Let's go back in time to the summer of 1984. I was 12, and I went to my first rock concert: I saw Berlin open for the Thompson Twins at Jones Beach. I wore a green day glow skirt with black Pollockesque splotches, and a matching day glow green and pink Esprit half shirt.

In addition to being my first concert, it was the first time I was asked out on a date. His name was Nick, and he was really buff. I am happy to say he still is...I saw him working out in a Chelsea gym just the other day.

I had to turn Nick down, for I only had eyes for one man. My first love, Mr. Andy Grondahl A.K.A Andy Freeze. We became fast friends. I knew him intimately. No, we've never slept together, but we did lose our virginity to the same man. I'm not kidding! Andy likes to say that I got sloppy seconds, but always remember DARling, Bryon left you for me! (As a foot note I should add that Bryon is now engaged to the woman who stole my credit card, and that he drives a horse and buggy in Central Park. Go to Columbus Circle and try to pick him out sometime!)

Andy was just the first in a long line of love affairs with gay men. We have shared absolutely everything, and he has had a profound effect on my life. He introduced me to The Rocky Horror Picture Show; he took me vintage clothing shopping; and he stopped me from wearing day-glow! He also introduced me to sex, drugs, and rock and roll. Now I never cared much for drugs...I was already a paranoid Jew. Rock and Roll could never compete with Liza Minnelli. But sex...sex was my downfall.