Ash B.
I am sorry to learn that an old boyfriend of mine died in March. His name was Ashley and he was unique. Let's see, we dated here and there during my sophomore year in high school, and I 'broke up' with my best girlfriend because of him. She met him through me, knew that we'd gone out, but thought she'd chase after him anyway. He wasn't real interested in her (or me anymore) in that way, but one night at a party of hers, she thought Ash and I had gone into her bedroom to make out, but really we were just in there trying on hats and acting dumb. When we went back into the yard she got in my face and backed me up against a tree. I thought she was going to hit me! The next day she and I 'broke up.'

One night I stayed over at Ash's, in his attic hideout, so we could be naughty together. The next morning my parents busted me--they knew I hadn't been where I said I was going to be, so I had to cook up a lie, quick. I said I'd been at some big party and crashed there. Somehow, miraculously, it worked.

He had blue blue eyes and a really unsettling manner. My friend Ulani and I used to cart him around with us when we did stuff, and he was so entertaining. He was very effeminent, but it was charming. My parents hated him.

Ash had a red terrycloth bathrobe, and often he'd shuffle around his parents' house in it and slippers, seeming, well, seeming rich and Hughes-like. His room had wacked out paintings all over it that I think his uncle did. I have, still, a bunch of line drawings his uncle did. Ash introduced me to one of my fave bands, Cocteau Twins, and he had a boxer named Winona. We'd sit outside at his house and smoke cigarettes, and just chat.

Hm. Poor Ashley. I don't know what happened to him, only that he died. Sad.