I still don't really know what we mean by Boxing Day in England. When I was a kid I used to think it was the day we'd tidy up all the empty boxes and wrapping paper. Doing it lazily the day after certainly fits in with my lifestyle!

Christmas Day dawned with the blue brilliance of all recent days here in San Francisco - the sky stretched to the horizon cloudlessly. In many ways, this was just a normal day for me. The best thing about holidays like Christmas Day is the almost complete absence of traffic. I drove over to Alamo Square to meet John for a game of tennis in no time.

Alamo Square

The temperature was picking up again - it was obvious that we were in for another unbelievably gorgeous day. John and I had a very competitive game, finally getting up to six games each, after ten service breaks! Serving isn't our strong point, I suppose. I lost the tie break game 8-6, after being up 6-3 - as usual, I lacked the final instinct to go for the jugular.

On the tennis court

The first time I ever visited San Francisco was Christmas 1988. I'd only been out of the closet a matter of months, and I knew nothing of the Castro, nor gay life here. I'd flown up on a last-minute whim with my French friend Erika, and her husband Erik. The intention had been to spend a few days in San Francisco, and then drive down to Los Angeles. But I immediately fell in love with the city, and decided I wouldn't accompany my friends to LA.

Jeez, I was a different person back then. I was so much centered in my mind - I think I saw my physicality as something that was just to be dragged around with my mind. When I think back to how I used to dress back then! I think that the first night I went out to a gay bar on that trip, I was wearing a paisley shirt and a nice woolen cardigan sweater!

In Golden Gate Park with Erik, 1988

That first night out at the Stud wasn't a happy one. I was incredibly shy. Nevertheless, I did meet someone - an older, skinny African-American guy who said he used to be the fashion editor for Interview magazine. I don't remember why, but for some reason I accompanied him home, but then jilted him on his doorstep. Probably a good decision.

My second night out, it was my birthday. A slim, sexy white guy with a deep voice and a Brooklyn accent, probably around 27, sat next to me. Eventually, I responded to his greeting and told him it was my birthday. He bought me a beer and I remember looking at his profile as he emptied the bottle, aching to be alone with him. He smiled at me suddenly and said that I oughtn't to be alone on my birthday. He invited me home with him, and we set off in a cab. To a young, inexperienced 23 year old, those first kisses in the back of the Taxi were pure magic. We had the most wild night of sex I'd ever experienced up to then. He was so kind, no doubt sensing the fragility of my sensuality. He treated me "real nice" - even gave me a foot massage, which, after a tourist's day of hiking the hills of San Francisco, was pure ecstasy. I think that in the end, I came three times before we eventually fell asleep. Of course, my tender young heart was in love with the guy that very night - or at least in a deep state of infatuation.

In the morning, the guy was destinctly cool, albeit in a roughly affectionate way. He was heading out that very day, he told me, to join up with his boyfriend who was already at their vacation spot in Mexico. I hid my great dissapointment. Something of my unhappiness must have shown however. I'd earlier told him that since I'd not originally intended to stay so long in San Francisco, I was planning to shift my lodgings to the Y. He took pity on me and let me stay in his old bedroom in his friend's apartment downstairs for the rest of my stay.

As an aside, I never saw this guy again for years, despite an occasional phone call from him. When I moved to San Francisco about four years later, I ran into him in a bar. I had an amazing evening hanging out with him. He had magnetic powers to attract young, good-looking men around him, and I shared that night in some of his magnetism. During that night at the Detour, I had four or five young men with their arms around me. It was a strange night that has never repeated itself. But I also saw the original guy with new eyes - I saw that in his incessant bar-hopping and association with younger men, there was a drunken addiction. Another important event happened that night. I vaguely remembered afterwards a very cute, boyish guy grinning at me from a distance. We never spoke, but it turned out that this was my first encounter with my soon-to-be boyfriend - the guy I ended up going to court against two and a half years later.

That Christmas, after my "Stud" friend had headed off on vacation to Mexico, those few remaining days of my San Francisco vacation on Haight Street were an eye-opener. The other roommates were hard-core club-goers. One of them was gorgeously cute, despite being ancient (to my young eyes) at thirty (I remember being amazed at his lack of a double chin at that age!) But my powers of seduction were even less sharp then than now, and I never got further with him than meeting up with him at the downtown Hotel Bar where he worked, on Christmas Day.

All three roommates and I took a nighttime drive to San Jose to check out a new dance-club, and I remember turning down the chance to take the then drug of choice for club-goers, speed.

On Christmas Day, back then, I was all alone for the day, and I was lonely for the first time on the trip. I ate a forlorn Christmas dinner in a Chinese restaurant on Haight Street. It was a beautiful afternoon and I was determined to do something to lift myself out of the funk that had come over me that day. I decided to hike up and down the three rocky hills that loom over the Upper Market area. The second and most secluded hill is Buena Vista, a steep, tree-covered hump towering over the Haight. I remember being amazed at seeing young men standing idly around by themselves. Even then, I knew that they were probably cruising, though part of me wondered that such good-looking young men would need to stand around on hilltops to find someone - I suspected that they were really policemen! Jeez, I was naive.

Remembering all this yesterday, and with the weather being so gorgeous, I decided to go hiking again, taking some of the same path. It was a warm, and beguiling day for a walk.

By the time I got home, it was time to get ready to head over to John and Jack's for Christmas dinner. John is the friend who I play tennis with most weekends. I can't say that we've ever gotten to know each other very well. He's a lovely, gentle man, but he's a little on the quiet side. Amazingly, it was only yesterday, after dinner, that I even learned that he was in the Navy for a few years, and that he also worked at Paramount Pictures. His boyfriend Jack is a complete contrast - very outgoing and talkative. The final guest was Jack's friend, Craig. I discovered that John is a great cook, and the meal was terrific.

Christmas Dinner at John and Jack's

While I was rummaging around in old photos for one of me on my first trip to San Francisco, I came across the photo below of the one and only time I did drag - for a Halloween Party thrown by my friend Dennis back in Philly years ago. I was not a pretty drag queen!

My one effort at drag, years ago