Camp Chris

Chris was undoubtably my best friend among the sexpats in Prague.

He was a 60-something antiques dealer who moved to Prague mostly to escape the banality of American life, but also to pick up young straight men. His stories were even crazier than mine. He was fearless.

He helped me enormously during my homeless days and kept my spirits up during walks around the station.

After I moved to Argentina, he’d visited Buenos Aires to make a stab at living there with me. Although we had some fun and he bought me a hot Paraguayan jock who fucked me silly, I knew from the start that he couldn’t handle the third-world nature of life in South America. He could only hack it for a month or so and returned to Prague.

He passed away suddenly of a brain tumor a couple years later. One day I was chatting with him on Skype and the next day his boyfriend messaged me to tell me he was in a coma in the hospital. He died within the week.

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