xx AWIID HAIR ELECTROLOG? ’ A HAIR Permanent Hair Removal Hair today gone by summer! When it's time to show a little skin, wouldn't you love to be free of unwanted hair? Start the process now! My specialty is with transgender clientele, but I have worked with everyone, men and women. STACEY CORWELL 33 Blair Park, Williston 878-9473 Anovr: THE Ryan: 20 Charming Rooms Peace & Privacy ‘G? ‘H1 100 Acres-Pool Hot Tub-Trails elandg ‘Inn P.O. Box 118 Bethlehem, NH 03574 603-869-3978 1-877-LES-B-INN (537-2466) vacationahighlandsinn-nh.com A LESBIAN PARADISE wwvmhighlandsinn-nh.com Veron I pwA Events Soalitio Activities Advocacy Education Networking Buyer's CO-Op Vermont People With AIDS Coalition P.O. Box 11 Montpelier, VT 05601-0011 in Vermont 800-698-8792 or 802-229-5754 N MEDICAI. CENTER Dr. Mara gVijups NMC RURAL HEALTH SERVICF5 Specializing in Family Practice Caring for patients of all ages S W A N T O N 868-2454 Good legal advice can make all the difference. Langrock Sperry & Wool offers the services I of 22 lawyers with over 300 years combined experience in all areas of the law — including two lesbian attorneys with special expertise serving the legal needs of the g/l/b/t/q community. SUSAN MURRAY & BETH ROBINSON With offices in Middlebury and Burlington Middlebury (802) 388-6356 Burlington (802) 864-0217 smurray@langrock.com brobinson@langrock.com Langrock Sperry & Wool, LLP ATTORNEYS AT LAW ews: Spud Love Having a fling was fine, but nothing long-term for me, thanks. My “Forever” relationships had always ended in ugly scenes and late-night door slam- ming. Who would want that to last till the end of time? My real “Love Forever” came disguised as your run—of-the-mill, crotch-throbbing attraction. We’d known each other socially for years, but no sparks. Exactly one month before our first night together, the future love of my life interviewed me about my trip to Gay Lobby Day on the radio show she hosted. I was nervous, she was cool, competent, a woman in charge. I couldn't take my eyes off those chubby little fingers diddling the console knobs. During a break she took ofi" her headphones. “You’re shy aren’t you?” Iwasn’t looking for love. cert tickets, anybody want to go?” “I will!” I was too gaga to notice her trepida- tion. I tried to make a good ‘ impression in my vintage Hawaiian shirt, a poor choice for the chilly audito- rium’s metal seats. I scoot- ed my chair toward her, hoping for some body heat. Was it my imagination, or did she scoot away? I scoot- ed again. So did she. During the standing ovation I sidled closer. She stepped into the aisle. It was pouring rain when the concert let out. I scooted my chair toward her, hoping for some body heat. Was it my imagination, or did she scoot away? I scooted again. So did she. Wonga wonga! Something got me about her seeing the tender inner self behind my out 'n proud persona. I drove away from the radio station vowing she’d be my next fling. Only for the sex, of course. I invited her to stuff envelopes at the non-profit where I volunteered. She had a meeting. I asked her ' if she wanted to go to the Pride rally. She was fixing her sink. A movie? She had a dentist appointment. Finally, one night at a potluck she announced “I've got a free pair of con- We had to run across the parking lot to her truck. I hoped she'd put her warm arm around me or at least lay one of those pudgy little paws on my thigh. I wanted to connect, win her over, get in her pants. When a huge RV passed us I said, “Ah, that's my fantasy, drive out to the boonies in a big camper and have loud sex.” Silence. She didn't say a word for the whole 45 minute drive home. I made myself wait a week to call her up. “Hi, I just harvested my potatoes. Want to come over for din- ner?” “Sure, that sounds exciting.” Potatoes? Exciting? This from the chair scooter? Maybe she finally ran out of excuses. Maybe she had a thing for spuds. We ate our baked potatoes. She was relaxed, warm, funny. Why hadn’t I ever noticed those huge blue eyes? “Another potato?” I asked. After dinner, we took a walk, held hands, talked, laughed. We hugged good-night at my gate. Full body press. The next night we went to a GALA dance. We made out in the car and went home to my place. We shared a whole year of sleep-overs before I started using the word “Love.” Even longer before “Forever” passed my ‘lips; On our first-six-month—a— Versary, she gave me a card asking_“Wanna to try for another six months?” I hit the roof. “Quit future—trip- ping. Don’t lay any expec- tations on me!” The moment I changed is hard to pinpoint. Maybe it was when my old dog died and my sweetie stepped up to the number one loyal'companion spot. Maybe it was weathering tough times without turning on each other that let me relax into love. Or maybe it just kept being good, so I stayed. After fourteen years, even I will admit this isn’t a fling. And the love keeps unfolding like one of those party-favor balls you unrav- el slowly so you don't miss any of the little prizes tucked between the layers. Who wouldn't want it to last forever? I Sally Sheklow can be @- mailed at Sally@ri0.c0m.