|Brad (right) during our trip to Provincetown, Mass July 1980|
Also pictured are my friends Bob (bottom left) and Gino (middle)
So to pick up where I left my last post. I spent my first night with Brad at a place where he was crashing because he had no place to live. Yes, he was homeless. From the bits and pieces I got from him, he had met a bartender during an earlier Philadelphia visit from his home in Cincinnati and had decided to move to Philadelphia to be with him. Only one problem, Brad was an alcoholic. He also had a drug problem. Marijuana and pills. Also had no job.
At this time of my life I had two homes. I had just sold our home at 24th and Naudain Street. Construction on our new home in Chester County, Pennsylvania wasn't completed. I had rented a small fourth floor walk up apartment at 22nd and Spruce Streets in Center City Philadelphia. I needed a place to live in Philadelphia because of my job at the bank.
After our First Night, Brad and I talked about his situation. I told him he could stay at my apartment on Spruce Street until he found a job and could get a place of his own. He moved in that following week.
I noticed immediately that Brad was hooked on pot. Uh okay, I'm hip. I wasn't into drugs myself and stayed away from pot because I was afraid using it would start me smoking cigarettes again. I stopped smoking July 15, 1967 and no intention of going back, no matter how cool I wanted to be. Remember, at this time I was the Old Guy (just like now). I was 39 years old and Brad was 23 years old.
In addition to my physical attraction to Brad (which was a biggie), I felt protective of him. This was/is always a turn on for me. I don't know what it is within me, but I've always been drawn to damaged individuals, especially hunky guys. I was going to SAVE Brad. Uh huh....I can see you all now nodding your collective heads. Yep, I was the FOOL.
My Moment of Truth with Brad came when I arranged a job interview for him with a real estate friend of mine. I took off work to be there for the interview. My real estate friend was gay so he understood what I was doing, doing my boyfriend a favor and trying to save him at the same time.
I went to my friend's office about fifteen minutes before 2 p.m, the time of Brad's interview appointment. Two o'clock rolls around. No Brad. 2:15 p.m. No Brad. 2:30 p.m. No Brad. Finally about twenty minutes before 3 o'clock Brad shows up, drunk. Yep, DRUNK. To say I was embarrassed and mortified doesn't even come close.
I apologized to my realtor friend and left with Brad. Of course there was no interview because Brad was so bombed. Nice, really nice.
We went back to my apartment. Brad apologized profusely. Of course I forgave him. He said he was "sick" as in a cold and took too much "cold medicine." Uh huh.
To be continued.
|Brad (yellow shirt) and me (red shirt) for a boat ride Provincetown Harbor July 1980|