I’m crushing on Daniel Levy (aka David Rose from Schitt’s Creek or John from The Happiest Season). He is beautiful, sensitive, smart, funny, out and proud.

More importantly, he is using his talents to portray normalcy within the LGBTQ experience. His characters drink coffee, go to bars, hold jobs, love their partners and their parents, and carry on with their lives just like everyone else. He shows that not every gay story is about coming out and that gay couples also face mundane issues, without diminishing the bigger issues. It’s refreshing, positive, and overdue.

And damn, Dan reminds me of my friend Lee, both in looks and style. Only Lee was my best friend more than 40 years ago, and though he remains ever in my heart, he is no longer physically with us. Lee was equally beautiful, sensitive, funny. He never had quite the same chance to be out and proud or to share his talents on a broader stage, though he was a gifted musician, writer, and actor.

Lee and I met in high school, becoming fast friends through such nerd groups as French Club and Drama Club. We bonded over English, poetry, and writing; our love for all things literature was a lifelong affair. We were smart but uncool in every possible way. (True story: our small group of friends privately referred to ourselves as The Lepers, which amused us no end.) In those years, Lee was coming to terms with his sexuality, which was no easy feat in the late 70’s. I remember my sadness over Lee taking a female fashion show model to prom, trying to show off his appeal to beautiful women. My heart broke for his pain and insecurity, but also that my best friend didn’t take me. Years later, Lee apologized and said he had regretted it ever since. (However, we discovered drag shows together a few years later, and that was probably more fun.)

Lee dealt with many demons, though. His buttoned-up parents thought something was wrong with him, and thus, missed truly knowing the wonder of their son. The 70’s were years of gay belittlement, followed by the AIDS crisis and more hate in the 80’s. His parents’ church where he had played the organ condemned him for being who he was born to be. Interestingly, he later attended a private, church-affiliated university, where he discovered a large underground community of gay men who embraced him and helped him thrive.

Recently, I watched a movie made in 1995. I was appalled at the portrayal of the gay son/brother as irresponsible, the parents who knew/denied, the sister who shamed him for shaming her. So many LGBTQ characters have been cast this way, reinforcing stereotyped, ignorant attitudes for all these years. But then I watched the short series One Mississippi and found another more realistic view. (Thank you, Tig Notaro, and thank you 2020 for all the binge-watching time.)

Lee and I shared a deep connection and exchanged soulful letters through our college years, but we had no email or social media or cell phones for keeping in touch, and the letters waned as we started careers in different cities. We always had plans for a future that would keep us in one another’s orbit, but Florida was far less progressive than Atlanta, where he landed. We reconnected a few times over the years. Though the world and I lost Lee in 2003, I can’t help think we would not have Dan Levy if not for the Lees who came before. Forty years is a helluva long time for that pendulum to swing.

Maybe that’s why I find myself crushing on Dan. He is a young man leading the life Lee dreamed of but never knew. He is demonstrating a world of normalcy, acceptance, and affirmation for our LGBTQ brothers and sisters, sons and daughters, and dear friends. How great would it be to live in a place, even Schitt's Creek, where everybody just loves who they love? And I want to be Moira when I get there.