Don’t You Want Me

Her name was Amy and she was a friend who created moments and opened minds. She was the life of the party, but in a good way. She was literally friends with everybody; she could find common ground with anyone with whom she’d come into contact. Amy wouldn’t stand for anyone being bullied or not living their best life because of fear. She didn’t stand for bullshit and, though she was everyone’s friend, she wouldn’t hesitate to cut a bitch. Amy was the best kind of ally. All this said, it was she who pulled me from my fear and drove me to my first gay bar experience; the ride there was full of confidence boosting propaganda, all based on the fact that she believed in me and wanted me to do the same. Wide eyed and with a gut teaming with butterflies, I walked into the place feeling every emotion. And Amy never left my side, until she did (the way a momma bird lets the baby fly). Soon I found myself on the edge of the dance floor. All the music blended into itself until Jody Watley’s Don’t You Want Me began. I couldn’t help but move and feel the beat and close my eyes and live. Id’ loved Jody’s voice sicne the start of the decade, hiding in that Pocono closet, listening to Shalamar during the supposed demise of disco. This was the song I’d remember until I die or get dementia, for it was the first song I’d ever danced to at a gay bar. And it’s all because of my hero Amy Louise Weiner, whose spirit lives inside me.