In Memoriam
Jeffrey Laughlin
1966-2011
I met Jeffrey in 1999, shortly after I’d started working at PG&E Energy Services (PG&E Corp’s answer to Enron, the unregulated energy experiment) in San Francisco.
Surprisingly, there weren’t that many out gay men working for the company, so Jeffrey and I immediately gravitated toward each other. Never mind that the boy was cute and smart and sexy as fuck. But nothing more than a friendship—despite the mutual attraction—developed because Jeffrey was hopelessly devoted to his long-term boyfriend, Leroy. Even when said boyfriend was found caught cheating on numerous occasions, Jeffrey (stupidly, IMHO) stood firmly by his side.
Like myself, Jeffrey was an inveterate techie. We were always discussing the latest hardware and software trends. He was very above board on software licensing issues, while I was more…flexible. He always purchased his software. I, on the other hand “obtained” a lot of it. (One of the perks of being in the business, I suppose.) One day I finally convinced him to come over to the Dark Side by providing him something that he wanted but was otherwise unobtainable.
Even after PG&EES finally followed ENRON into the dustbin of history, and we went to different jobs, we still both worked downtown and managed to meet up for lunch several times a week. At his new place of employment, Jeffrey discovered the Mac and became an immediate convert, putting an end to all his Windows-based Dark Side adventures. (Just as I was forced to go legit once I joined the Church of Steve Jobs.)
Shortly after I’d returned to Phoenix in 2002, Jeffrey finally had enough of Leroy’s dalliances and they parted company. A little over a year later he told me he’d decided to move back to Texas and start his own business.
In 2004, we met up briefly as he was passing through Phoenix on his way to McKinney. This would be the last time I’d ever see him.
We exchanged a few more emails as he got resettled, but then life intervened and I lost touch. When I attempted to re-establish contact, none of his email addresses were active, and I had no phone number or old school physical address by which to contact him.
Over the years, I’d run cursory internet searches hoping to find him, but with such a relatively common name, I came up empty handed.
That is, until about 8 years ago.
And I almost wish I hadn’t. “Ignorance is bliss,” as they say.
Jeffrey died in 2011. No cause was given in the obituary, so I have no idea if it was AIDS, cancer, or some horrific accident. If he was HIV positive or otherwise sick, he never mentioned it. All I know is that yet another little hole opened in my life with that news and it will never truly be filled.
I’m glad I had the chance to know him.
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