I Miss My Friend

David Dowler.

Loved me.

Selflessly, wonderfully, honestly and, sometimes, kick butt-edly.

David Dowler was one of the best people I have ever known in my lifetime.

David Dowler was an extremely accomplished musician. He worked a day job with the city of Kansas City, Missouri as an event planner for one of the convention centers or music halls, I believe. No, no...he booked concerts and touring musicals for...geez, I can't remember the name of it. Lyric theatre? I bow my head in shame, Kansas City.

Anyway, David Dowler was a consumate performer and musician. He was a lot of fun on the community theatre stage, but his true calling was choral music. David was my musical director in "Guys and Dolls" which is when we became fast friends. He was always at my apartment or rented house, playing piano and leading me through vocal scores, readying me for an audition or teaching me new musicals that I just "had to do". David ran musical circles around me, and yet he thought I had the greatest talent ever.

David Dowler believed in me. Not just in the things I could do. But in me as a person. David believed that I was beautiful, courageous, smart, funny, gentle, kind...David believed that with the right encouragement, I could almost be close to perfect. How silly is that! David thought I could do no wrong, even when he was telling me how wrong I was for doing something.

We would talk on the phone for hours. When he left his job with the city and took on a job at the Kinko's just a few blocks from me, not only were we on the phone all the time, but I was always hanging out at Kinko's. Hey, it was close to two college campuses and there were lots of cute boys coming and going at two in the morning. Couldn't get much better than that. He was one of the best friends a girl could ever have and a perfect date when a girl couldn't find one.

I once had a pregnancy scare when I was so very young and was too ashamed to tell anyone except David. The whole situation was beyond my maturity and David simply said "I will marry you and raise the baby with as much love and discipline as I have to offer. I will be a good husband to you." It was just a scare - I was under a great deal more stress than I knew how to handle - but I never forgot that offer, or what it meant to him to say that. David would never marry any woman - except me.

Had David been straight, he would have been my special love. I would have married him in a heartbeat and we would have been happy. We would have probably started our own theatre or choral group at some point and raised beautifully musical children. Slightly geeky, but beautiful.

I didn't know that David was sick. He never told me. I've always been pissed at him for that. For not trusting me with that secret. You shouldn't keep things like that from the people who truly love you. But David fell in love with someone wonderful who did not mind that he was dying of an incurable illness. Someone who knew that he was worth it, no matter what amount of time.

David moved to Denver to be with his love. He became the director of the Denver Men's Chorus. He was happy. That made me happy. Then one day, not long after I had first moved to NYC and literally had no money to my name, he called me to say that he had won some plane tickets on a radio contest (and I was naive enough to believe that - sheesh!) and he wanted me to fly to Denver for a special concert his chorus was doing. Of course I said yes. Now, allow me to tell you that the following information is just one example of how much David loved me and thought so well of me.

I arrived at the airport the morning of David's concert. It was a Fabulous Forties concert and there was to be an instrumental ensemble and dancing after. He arranged an escort for me. A young man they called DooDah because his last name was Campton (Camptown Races, get it?). So I arrived at the airport, David picks me up, we drop my stuff off at the apartment building. It just so happens that they're friends with the landlord who has an empty apartment down the hall. Studio with a murphy bed. Adorable apartment. I get to stay there for gratis for two nights. How cool is that!? Then David takes me to a Thrift Store run by one of the guys in the chorus. It just so happens that there's this lilac frilly formal dress thing that would be perfect to go to a forties concert in. He purchases the dress for five dollars. The next stop just "happens" to be the hairdresser that sings in the chorus. David has already made arrangements for them to do my hair to go with this dress. I am not allowed to do anything but relax. My hair is shampooed, blow dried, curled, put up into this elaborate roll thing with baby's breath all over it and I look...well, dammit, I look stunning! We go out for an early dinner, we do all these things that he has to do. I get dressed and made up and darned if I don't look fine on the arms of two tuxedoes gentlemen who are taking me out for a night on the town. Before the concert, I was introduced and the chorus greeted me en masse as if they all knew who I was. I was coddled and fussed over. Had a terrific seat for a fabulous concert. I always knew he was amazingly talented. After, we ate lovely little things on pretty little plates while drinking frothy little punches and then a very handsome young man came to my side and announced he was my date for the evening. Could things get better? Why, yes, they could. He was the perfect date. Manners - impeccable. Dancing - perfect. Friendly. Easy to talk to. Courtly. And did I mention he was a great dancer? We had such fun that the next thing I know, I am at (and this is where the real excitement starts) a country and western gay bar - that the drag queens used to like to frequent as well. Talk about your fun! So here we are in the tuxes and formal gown, two stepping around the floor - and I'm the only "real" girl. I had drag queens stopping me to tell me how gorgeous I looked. I had cute, sweaty men with perfect hair and even more perfect bodies cutting in to dance. I was a queen. And that had been David's intention from the start.

It wasn't until I learned that David had passed from AIDs that I understood his gesture. He wanted me to feel how special I was to him. How much I mattered. He wanted to give me that wonderful evening to last me long after he couldn't give me any more. He needed it for himself as much as for me. He was a man who knew how to be a good person. A good man. A good friend. A good human.

I think of David often. Especially now that I have yet to make any local friends. When I have figured out how special I really am and how much I really matter and wish to share that with like-minded people. I miss him deeply. I miss his friendship and his music and his tucked in polo shirts. I miss the way I loved being his friend.

David Dowler loved me. And I loved him.