A Friday. I'm living in Florida, but back in San Francisco for five days, anxious to visit my old hangouts and re-unite with my old friends, especially Kevin the Vampire. When I left San Francisco, I was actually relieved to be rid of him: his smoking, his elitism, his weird paranormal powers, his exhausting bedroom calisthenics. But at least dating him was never dull.
David, the ex-Baptist minister who is trying to make up for lost time by hooking up with at least two guys every day, picks me up at the airport. On the way to his apartment on Alvarado in the Castro, he tells me that almost everyone has moved away or gone incognito.
"Well, surely Kevin the Vampire is still around. I can't imagine him living anywhere else."
"Dunno. I just hung out with him because of you, so we haven't been in contact. Why don't you give him a call?"
I am embarrassed to admit that in a year of dating, I never got Kevin's phone number. He always called me, or showed up at my door.
"Well, do you know his address?" David asks. "We could do a drop-in."
"I never got his actual street address, either, but I know where his apartment is. I've been there a hundred times." I hesitate. "Only...we might not be able to find it. One of Kevin's paranormal powers was confusing visitors. If he wasn't expecting you, you would be unable to find him."
"Desperately seeking Kevin the Vampire, a paranormal adventure!" David exclaims. "I'm in -- but only if we can hook up with some of the leads. I'm running a little low on my quota."
The full story, with nude photos and explicit sexual content, is on Tales of West Hollywood.