The electronic Nivea billboards and party favors displayed throughout Times Square during New Years Eve celebrations reminded me of my Army buddy, Gillie Wells, Jr.
I discovered Nivea in Europe, where it originated, during my tour of duty in Hanau in the late 1980’s. We used Nivea facial cream as lubrication during anal sex. Gillie loved the smell of Nivea, so did I, but it sometimes burned a little at the start.
Gillie, the infantryman, after spending a night in my fox hole in the barracks, awoke in my soft arms to share:
“I really like the smell of that lotion. I had a dream that I got you pregnant. You had a baby and named her Nivea.”
It has been years since Gillie died. Yes, AIDS got him, but I still have my health, Nivea and dreams of him.
Decades later, I still use Nivea vitamin- enriched body lotion. It seems the masses are just catching on now– twenty years later. Only a tourist would go to Times Square on New Year’s Eve when the wind chill factor is below zero and wear a Nivea hat in front of television cameras.
I put on a mud mask and watched the ball drop on a plasma television instead, my face cracking at the thought of being out in the cold. It occurred to me, during a commercial break from Anderson Cooper, that perhaps I never got HIV because I used Nivea up my ass. Gilly? How could he have been so careless and died? What would 2009 be like with him still alive, I wondered as I wished that somehow his life had not ended at such a young age.
Gillie has been dead for almost twenty years now, obviously, his pecker not protected at all times by Nivea. Gillie wasn’t the brightest of the many lovers I’ve had who passed to Nirvana, but he was certainly the most gifted of my men, both in the sack and upon canvas.
If any of the dead men I’ve had, have the power to send signs from the other side, it’s Gillie Wells. His spirit called to me as 2009 was ticking in. I just finished reading the Time Machine by H.G. Wells, and had Gillie Wells on my mind. I shed a tear at the stroke of midnight in mere memory of him and that stinging lotion.
I’m 40 now. There is not enough Nivea in the world to protect me from what’s to come. I fear that when I finally die at 99, I’ll have an ass of a power bottom and a face like Madonna. I’ll move into eternity as an aged old queen with grey hair. Waiting for me in the light will be all my dead lovers, Gillie, Shawn, Rico and the rest– all still young, beautiful and full of Nivea and I will feel that sadly, I was the one cheated in life.
It was Gillie that I saw in the crystal light of a falling ball last night in Times Square. His spirit was there, even in the chilly faces of Anderson Cooper and friends.
I was in bed by 1:00 and had a dream of Gillie. He was still young, as if he had been using Nivea all this time.