He was the new kid in class in 1972. He was my best friend. He was my first date. He was my first kiss. He took me to my senior prom. He liked Manhatten Transfer, Bette Midler and Elton John. He was an incredibly talented artist by the age of 13. He liked to eat dinner at my house. He loved my mother's French Chocolate Roll dessert. He graduated from art school. He moved to San Francisco. He once paid $300 for a dinner in Japan. He sent me letters full of pepper or written on toilet paper. He made me laugh. He understood when I cried. He told me I should have a baby by a sperm donation from the Dalai Lama. He lost his sight. He died of AIDS in 1994. I miss him every day.