Two years after my boyfriend had died I still was far from myself, life seem to spin in a different circle. Questioning the meaning of life became my new past time, along with spewing angry words at God. Which was not convenient considering I was working for the Catholic church. Imagine sitting in church, a holy silence, prayers being said right and left, and there in the middle a young woman, eyes closed, seemingly in sincere prayer for courage and grace as her boyfriend had died... and instead if you could turn the volume up so that her prayers/thoughts became out loud you would have heard her cussing through the Our Fathers and rarely saying peace be with you.
I felt lost in a very dark cave called depression.
I was working for the Catholic church in San Francisco, though found refuge at a gay dance club called the I-Beam... I loved to dance, and it was certain that at a gay dance club a woman dressed to sweat, who wanted to dance her pain away could do so without hassle. Freedom to dance without anyone watching.
It was heavenly.
As time went by my family and friends tried in vain to set me up with dates. They had good intentions trying to find me love and happiness. The guys I met were kind, interesting, perfect really... but I wasn't in the mood for falling in love. It was a risky business that love thing. Death seemed to lurk behind the eyes of those I met. Maybe I was bad luck? Maybe they would die on me too? Weren't we all going to die? Fear became my new best friend, and it sat by my side unbecomingly. Hauntingly.
In response to those who encouraged me to date again I would tell them, "When the time is right someone will walk up to me unexpectedly, telling me his name is John. That will be my sign." John was the name of my beloved.
I honestly believed the chances of that happening were next to none, that suited me fine. It was if I was taunting God and all those who cared about me, I don't care! Who needs love!"
If someone was attracted to me and out of nowhere came up to me and said, "My name is John." Well it would be a joke, an eye opener, or a miracle. I danced on and on not taking the time or interest to notice anyone.
So imagine how shocked I was when dancing at the I-BEAM that a young, handsome man danced by my side. The I-Beam was a place a woman could dance unnoticed for eternity. What was this guy doing dancing by me? Gee, couldn't he tell I was a woman? His flirtation was blatant causing me to blush. Nervous, caught off guard by my feelings of attraction I decide to leave the dance floor. He tapped my shoulder. A rush of warmth went through me causing my fear to melt.
I was surprised at my reaction.
In broken English the young man blurted, "I me name...Yann." I didn't understand a word he said, I asked "Yawn?" Thinking to myself that is a funny name.
His next words changed my world. He said:
"Yann... in French is John."
