Buku Mama’s Boy by Dustin Lance Black

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Mama’s Boy by Dustin Lance Black

Author:Dustin Lance Black

Language: eng

Format: epub

Publisher: Knopf Doubleday Publishing Group

Published: 2019-04-29T16:00:00+00:00

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Mama’s Boy by Dustin Lance Black

CHAPTER 13

Allemande Left

I

 

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Mama’s Boy by Dustin Lance Black

Author:Dustin Lance Black , Date: June 11, 2019

,Views: 55

Author:Dustin Lance Black

Language: eng

Format: epub

Publisher: Knopf Doubleday Publishing Group

Published: 2019-04-29T16:00:00+00:00
CHAPTER 13

Allemande Left

I

Allemande left: A square dance move in which corners face each other, take left hands or forearms, walk around each other to the left, let go, and return to their original position.

* * *

I got back on an airplane in late September, a few weeks before I was set to start at UCLA’s film school. As I looked out the window, we took to the air and headed west, over Virginia, over the rust belt and the Midwest, across the Rocky Mountains, and back to that Southern California style of America that still felt a bit too foreign, particularly now with no family for miles. A few weeks earlier, Ryan had enthusiastically agreed to spend two more years in L.A. and to pick me up at the airport—the former a big surprise and a huge relief, the latter a test of true friendship for any Angeleno.

When I saw Ryan again, I was gobsmacked. I hardly recognized him. He was now fit and trim. His mustache had vanished. His head was shaved too. There was even an aggressive, black tribal tattoo blazing down his forearm. In three short months, he had emerged from his chubby closet-cocoon as a butterfly. What the holy living hell did I help unleash? I thought. Ryan was no longer in SoCal for my dreams. This was a new Ryan, looking to fulfill his own ambitions in ways only a big city could provide in 1994.

We moved into an affordable apartment well south of the university, and Ryan got right to work. Over the summer, he had rediscovered the charm he’d once wielded at North High. His devilish grin was back and he was now using it to build a new circle of friends out of the brightest, wildest, and most attractive young men he could find—this time harvested from a vibrant, fast-growing gay ghetto just east of us called West Hollywood.

This wasn’t the West Hollywood of today. Gay tourists and bachelorette parties from around the world weren’t flying in to stuff Benjamins into go-go dancers’ G-strings, or spilling out onto wide, well-lit sidewalks at last call in hopes of finding “the one”—or the one for the night. Boystown, as it were, was on the same Santa Monica Boulevard it is today, but it was only reliably gay between Robertson and Palm. It was dimly lit, with narrow sidewalks. Most bars’ windows were covered to protect the identities of those inside, and patrons knew better than to walk back to their cars alone for fear of being bashed verbally or physically by the “straight” men out trolling “fags” for sport.

But for gay men at the time, Boystown was still a far safer place to be out than most any other neighborhood in Los Angeles, and it was certainly safer than most cities in the world, so bold college boys ventured to what we called “the strip,” traveling in packs for the security even this sanctuary still required. Some packs had older leaders who showed

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