Nostalgia

I was going through pics last week, and I came across one of an ex-beau, Lance.  He was a small, slight Jewish guy I don't think I ever saw sober.  He always had a bottle of beer in one hand, and a doobie in the other.  He was the only male that we allowed to run with us, and 'us' consisted of me, Cheryl, Andi, The Mummy and Mary, aka the Wolf Pack (the name a bartender who absolutely despised us gave to us - we came in one night, and someone heard him say, "Oh, Jesus, not the fuckin' Wolf Pack, not tonight...").  Lance was allowed to come with us not because he was my boyfriend, but because he did two things that made him essential to our little group - he drove our skanky asses everywhere, and he was our Potty Boy (in some of the sleazier clubs we went into, he stood outside and wouldn't let any of the desperately perverse men follow us in).  He, also, had the gift of keeping his mouth shut about anything that he might hear us say, and was a general good guy all around.

He was our pet, in a way.

So, I decided to draw him.  Not that he'll ever see it - if he's like most of my friends from that period, he's either dead, in prison, or married to someone who crushed his fucking soul - but it's, still, in honor of all the good times we had with him, and all the shit he took from us.

Here's to you, Lance...!

So, I wanted to draw him.