MM + AH Forever

In the high school theatre and band room, we found each other. You were the only person I’d ever met who I thought was maybe funnier than me. Naturally, I was in love.

The summer after you graduated I sent a highly romantic email to andrewisvociferous@hotmail.com. I confessed my feelings for you and closed the email with a very confident “if you don’t feel the same way, at least you’ve graduated and you never have to see me again lol.” Fortunately you were “purely blissful” that I was crushing on you and we soon became the It Couple of Clandeboye, Manitoba. Self-proclaimed but still very accurate.

You were a whole year wiser than me and you listened to better music and you had your own truck and, holy fuck, were you fun. One time you had to pull over because you made me laugh so hard I almost puked.

When you broke up with me you said “I don’t think we were ever really in love anyway.” I didn’t understand because no one had ever met you and not fallen in love with you. Our relationship changed but you were always there. A few short months after our break up you wrote an insane piece for the school paper, which calmly explained to my classmates that I had been voted valedictorian because I was better than them. It was impossible to hate you.

We both dreamed of leaving small town Manitoba and moving to Toronto. Always the trendsetter, you went first. A year later, I followed. We met up at Nuit Blanche and I was so excited we were finally getting to live as the big city people we’d always been. Staying out all night and admiring art, it was clear we weren’t in Manitoba anymore. I remember noticing how free you were that night. You were somehow laughing even more heartily than ever before and there was a lightness to you I’d never seen.

You were really scared to tell me you were gay. You didn’t want me to feel used or lied to. I never felt sad or angry. I loved you and you were learning to love yourself. From that point forward you would proudly introduce me as your ex-girlfriend, shimmy whatever fringe or glitter you were wearing and say “Guess why we broke up.”

When you found out you were sick you could have crumbled. You could have put on sweats and packed up your lipsticks and waited for death. You could have put on a tough face and marched on like there was a battle to be won. You chose to vogue through the days you had left.

You bought Moschino sneakers. You wore a cape of roses. You covered your face in gold leaf. When acquaintances asked what you’re up to, you’d respond “pretty much a full time cancer patient” and laugh heartily. You got tattoos to symbolize other people’s secrets and swore to take them to the grave. You donned a Barbie pink lip whenever the occasion called for it. (And the occasion usually called for it.)

You lived. You lived more fully than anyone I’ve ever seen. And when it was time to go, when you had done all you set out to do, you went. For all of us left, it was too soon. It was always going to be too soon.

I know that you’re gone but I know you’re still here. In every stray bit of glitter I see you. And glitter is literally fucking everywhere.

For Glamdrew Henderson