Hey Larry!

Remember me? We use to work together at Beach in Fort Mitchell. I was talking to Jean the other day and she told me you were now working at CityBeat -- just checked out your column, really cool! I'm reading it every week now. And happy birthday! Let's get together soon -- e-mail me back!!!

Hi Carol,

Thanks for the e-mail. Of course, I'm not going to use your real name here. I think you can figure out who this letter is being sent to.

And, of course, it's not really a letter at all. It's going to be the column you read. You've given me an idea as to what I want to write about this week. For that, I thank you.

Since my birthday on May 1, I've been thinking a lot about friendships. On that day, some wonderful friends came through for me and reinforced my belief that good friends make all the difference in one's life.

I was so touched by what my friends did for me, I wrote a column about it (see "The Last Day of 49"). I'm glad you liked it, and your e-mail brought back a lot of memories.

We were so close, Carol. I always loved your sarcasm and quick wit. Remember those lunches at The Speakeasy when we'd come sneaking back into work two hours later because we were having such a good time just talking to one another?

And we remained friends after I left Beach. Sometimes you'd come downtown where I was working, and we would go over to Caddy's and have a few beers. We would talk about our lives and, when one of us needed a shoulder to cry on, each of us knew we could count on the other. They were special times.

To be honest, when I think back to those days now, it makes me sad.

When I called you in early September 1994 to let you know I was in Seattle because my twin brother Jered was in the hospital with AIDS, you had to get off the phone right away, said someone was knocking on your front door. You said you would call me right back. How come you never did?

And when he died on Sept. 27, I called again. I got your machine this time and left a number where I could be reached. I really needed to talk to you. You never returned the call.

When I got back to Cincinnati in early October, I left several more messages thinking maybe we could go out to lunch. I even wrote you a letter wanting to know if I'd done something wrong, wanted to know if I'd offended you in any way. I received no reply. Why didn't you answer my letter?

The only thing I can figure out, almost 10 years later, is that you dropped me because my twin brother died of AIDS. You knew he was gay, but you said you were open-minded to that -- "to each his own." Did you really mean those words, or is it the concept of AIDS that scared you away from me?

And do you know how much it hurt not having your shoulder when I needed it the most?

A part of me would like to know the answers to all of the questions I'm asking, but I think I'm just going to let it go.

Hell, all of this happened almost 10 years ago. I've moved on from it. I talk to Jean every once in a while, too, and I always tell her to say hello to you for me. I don't hold a grudge, Carol. I can forgive, but I can't forget. I won't forget.

Please do me a favor. Don't take this the wrong way, but please go away again. I'm just not interested in having you back in my life right now.

I'm older and wiser and pick my friends more carefully now. And I'm lucky to have true friends. Sorry, but that's something you never were.

-- Larry