Robin and Me - How I got to know Robin Byrd

Years ago, in Old New York (prior to the Great Clean Up), I was a spunky, perky college gay activist. It was the late 80's/early 90's and ACT UP was in full swing. Every Monday night, hundreds of angry, sexy gay boots put on their combat boots and worked for a good cause.

We protested together, partied together, and slept together.

One night, I found my 19-year-old gay boy ass at an ACT UP fundraiser at an elementary school somewhere on the lower east side. The cafeteria or gym had sexy gay boys dancing in it. And in one room was a mini school fair with baked goods, crafts, and simple carnival games. I decided to throw a ball and knock down the stack of cans to win a kiss from the hot guy at the kissing booth.

For a buck, I took a shot and amazed, I knocked down the six cans. I got my ticket to the kissing booth!

I walked over and saw a busty blond woman standing in one of the stalls. I asked, "Where's the guy?"

"He's in the bathroom, but you can kiss me! Just pretend I don't have these breasts."

OK, I thought, and I kissed her.

Not just a peck kiss, but a LONG tongue kiss. It was my first real heterosexual kiss, and still is. I told her.

She was so pleased, there was a look of sincere pleasure in her eyes. "That's so sweet", she said, with her hands pressed to her bussom.

I smiled and stepped away to my friends. They looked at me, blankly.

"Do you know who that was?"

"No", I said.

"That was Robin Byrd. You just french kissed Robin Byrd."

And oh where her lips have been!