They didn’t want Nolan and I to meet. A mutual friend would mention him often, but follow up with “you guys can never know eachother, it would be trouble.” He was absolutely right.
When we were finally introduced, we’d already been told so much of eachother: music, pop culture, home economics… we had things in common. We took a trip to Disneyland with our mutual friend Jonathan. Throughout the long sunny day of fun, I recall Nolan telling me about a nice new boy he was talking to; the man he would eventually marry, my friend Eric. I remember an electricity in the air as we learned more about eachother. We shared intense passions for life. He was like a speeding party bus that had room enough for anyone with the right energy.
Nolan met me in my formative years. Freshly out of the closet and without much experience in the gay world, Nolan was miles ahead. He’d forged past the obstacles of a young gay man in the mid-2000’s, long before the current social climate that welcomes young people into queerdom. Although a few years younger, he’d made a safe space for himself that he wanted to invite me into.
I met countless people through Nolan. He ran winery tours, and would presumably get phone numbers from new friends on a weekly basis. Each time I was with him (no matter the city) he’d run into familiar faces, and he’d proudly introduce me as his friend. Nolan saw a version of me that I hadn’t yet embodied. One that defied the shy persona that I was presenting to the world. He insisted that everyone saw the vision of me that he knew was there, starting with me.
These are five songs that mark moments in our time together.
Last Friday Night (T.G.I.F.) – Katy Perry
Nolan was always a pensive, old soul, but had the capacity to be the life of the party in the right moments. He insisted on bringing me to an 18+ party that ran on Thursdays in Hollywood, long before I lived in the city. The idea of a gay club seemed far beyond the reach of my social capacity, but Nolan had no doubt that I’d have a great time. This would be my first gay club experience. That evening, the night was themed to the just-released track from Katy Perry’s Teenage Dream album. I can’t hear it without remembering us dancing to it in our small group before dashing back to our suburban lives in Temecula.
Every Teardrop is a Waterfall – Coldplay
Adamant about showing me everything I needed to see as a newly minted gay, Nolan insisted on bringing me with his boyfriend Eric to San Diego Pride in 2011, my first Pride festival experience. On the way down, sitting in the back of Eric’s SUV, they flipped around the radio before landing on the new Coldplay song that I hadn’t heard yet. It’s a celebratory, euphoric track that illuminates triumph through sadness. At that festival, an impossibly attractive man stared in our direction from across a grassy area. Assuming he was checking out somebody else, I suggested we move on. “He’s looking at you Aaron.” Eric said. I blushed, and attempted again to get the group moving in the opposite direction. “If you don’t go talk to him I’m just going to go and give him your number,” Nolan said. I had no choice but to approach the muscly blonde blue-eyed man who I learned was a teacher from Belgium and go-go danced on the side. He was indeed looking in my direction, and I never would have known if not for the confidence of my friends.
Vogue – Madonna
A classic pop music fan, Nolan loved Madonna. She was his all-time favorite pop gal, which each gay is entitled one of. Even though he had much to say about each era of the Queen of Pop, he respected the earliest works that lifted her to her current level of stardom. We’d play the Immaculate Collection around his boyfriend’s house while cooking or working on homemaking projects. Nolan, like Madonna, contained multitudes. There were thought-provoking quips and long conversations over wine, but he shined the brightest in lighthearted fun moments that remind me of Madonna’s first releases. Vogue represents an unabashedly brave queer moment in pop culture far preceding it’s conventional acceptance. Nolan was similarly ahead of the curve and refused any rejection of his unapologetic and fabulous nature.
Call Your Girlfriend – Robyn
As much as I credit my friend for his own legacy, his mother Sherry deserves accolades for creating such a person. When I booked tickets for a “secret Robyn Performance” in West Hollywood on Halloween, I naturally turned to Nolan to commission two other people to come with. “Cool if my mom and Eric come?” He asked. “Absolutely!” I answered. They came with a force, fully costumed up to attend a surprise concert as part of the annual West Hollywood Carnaval.
We were lined up around the stage bordered by a high white tarp surrounding all sides of us with a huge crowd of unsuspecting onlookers outside of the perimeter. As Robyn started singing her at-the-time new single “Call Your Girlfriend,” the tarps dropped away to reveal a pop-up concert for the onlookers taking part in a Halloween Parade. During the performance, Robyn twirled to our edge of the stage and knelt down into the crowd, grabbing my hand and singing into my face. Nolan drummed on my shoulders and embraced a shocked, quivering young me. That remains my favorite concert experience, and he enjoyed it alongside me with his boyfriend and mother, who gave the approval of the music that reminded her of what she’d danced to in the ’80s.
Born This Way – Lady Gaga
I’m proud to say that I’ve seen Lady Gaga grow from her moment of inception to monumental heights. When she was a niche artist just for certain communities, my friends and I were there. Nolan and I would talk at length about the art direction of Lady Gaga’s music videos, magazine spreads and live performances. To celebrate my 21st birthday, a few friends and I attended a live performance of Lady Gaga’s on Jimmy Kimmel Live promoting her new album “Born This Way.” More friends joined us at a nearby club after the fact. Nolan was there with handfuls of our other friends (many of whom I only knew because of Nolan).
Fast-forward about ten years to current day. My sister and I took the incredible opportunity to see Lady Gaga perform a sold-out concert at Dodger Stadium. The crowd was very mixed– a clear indicator that our once-niche favorite pop prodigy had reached conventional success- and I couldn’t have been prouder of the girl who we saw perform in a parking lot so many years prior. Having recently gotten the news that my friend’s health had taken a turn for the worst, I spoke directly in my sisters ear during the concert that if Nolan could see this, he’d never believe it. We uplifted Lady Gaga all the way to the top until she shattered the glass ceiling. I learned the next morning that Nolan had died that evening. A wise friend rationalized to me that, even though I was allowed to be sad to lose someone whom I had so much love for, Nolan was there with me at that concert after all.
I'm Just Gonna Dance All Night 