The summer of 1985 saw the film “St Elmo’s Fire” debut. The poorly written early adolescent tripe of a film was a total guilty pleasure as I dreamed of graduating from college some day and tried to find some hope here. The gay characters were complete awful stereotypes but the film did have two important ingredients to interest this teenage gay mind: a really cute guy in Andrew McCarthy’s character, Kevin, and a total drama queen, Jules. After her recent stint on daytime soap “General Hospital”, Demi Moore played Jules to perfection. Throughout the film, Jules was always in some sort of trouble, dodging hookups with rich Arab sheiks and numerous late night encounters on cocaine binges. She played the victim in her own life, a self-proclaimed casualty waiting for her “Step-Monster” to die dragging all her friends down into her own turmoil. A few years earlier, during my high school days, there was a “Jules” who resembled all this behavior. Once, she had an acid flashback at the Echelon Mall which left her flailing about in front of Merry Go Round while frantically whispering to me to grab her drug filled handbag and run. As troublesome as this girl sounded, I was addicted to the adrenaline thrills she fed me. This must be what I saw in the film character, Jules. Years later, after nursing a highly dramatic relationship with an alcoholic, I began to understand the meaning of co-dependency.