Sandee Dunk

My bestest friend in the world is Sandee Dunk. We have known each other since my freshman year of college in 1981, where we bonded one drunken night at a fraternity house. She is responsible for creating the monster that I still am: introduced me to lots of vices and fetishes.

All of which, I am eternally grateful for.

Like smoking cigarettes, drinking beer, eating delivery pizza late at night, and making love unconditionally. These were the values of my youth. And Sandee Dunk helped form them on the beaches of Florida and the dorms of State City.

Now, as adults, we have reconnected. We had seen each other every other year or so until about 10 years ago. We had a kinda bad visit back then: she's now allergic to cigarette smoke and was very judgmental about our smoking, so she spent a lot of time simply trying to breathe. She has a body type that produces a lot of phlegm, so she is sensitive to it. But we were smokers, and smokers have to smoke.

This time, Sandee and her son stayed at a hotel in town, so no smoke! We actually had quit for years too, in the time we didn't visit, but we started again last summer when we were under all the stress of the law and the man. (See "Thresholds: and other ruminations.")

We had a luffly visit this past Easter weekend. She came up to play our "personal shopper" because we didn't want to go shopping. She made us go out, and in two hours we spent $10,000 on brand-spanking new furniture at two local marts. We will have a matching house with matching furniture -- what a fucking concept. Never in my life have all my things coordinated with such Martha Stewart-like aplomb.

Wheeeeeeee. So, Sandee helped us usher in a new era. An era of hope and Spring...an era where we look forward rather than backward, where we don't cry about things we lost -- instead we jump for joy about things we are gaining.