It's been more than 25 years since the day we met at that renaissance festival, when you mounted me on the wooden floorboards of the rustic cabin I sold art from out of, and more than 15 years since we parted on a winter's afternoon. I can't imagine how many lovers have passed through each of us since then, but I have never forgotten the paths we had tread and the amazing experiences we shared during those ribald, faerie days.
Our Us was, and in many ways remains, a foundation stone for so many things in my life now. So much has grown and developed from things that we shared, explored, initiated with one another.
I still remember when you surprised me, having driven from Boston to New York, just to see me when I was working at the BDSM club. I still remember the incoming tide as we spoke over lit candles and offerings of wine. I still remember feeling so proud, so very proud, as I watched you dance around the silver pole. The waterbed. The painted stones. The blonde boy I shared you with in Maryland. Coupling with you on the snowbank, or beside the lake, as our friends circled 'round a fire.
Often, in retrospect, I think the quality of our sex life was at least one primary thing that kept us together for as long as we were. At the time, I was completely convinced that we'd be together forever... but then, I wasn't even in my 20s when we met, and there was so much yet for me to learn.
Losing you was as much an important part of my growth as a man, a lover, a person, as was discovering you. I have, and always will, love and treasure you.