Marce says…

Marcela Orraca is my bestestttt friend forever and ever.

We met on our very first day at UDLA when I approached her to confirm I was at the right classroom for French Culture, although really we became close about a year after that. She was one of the first people I came out to, and she has been with me for every. Single. Important. Event. Since that. She is, without a doubt, the nicest human being I have come across with. The fact that she gets turned on by witnessing a guy being nice to people/animals/plants says it all. P.D. Mexicanos: le encanta que le hagan piojito.

Together we’ve done it all: meeting the parents, being mistaken for each other’s boy/girlfriend, gay clubbing, road trips north and south of Cholula, radio, student journalism, YouTube, Harvard, New York, alter egos, heartbreak, concerts, weddings… Okay, we have never kissed so we haven’t REALLY done it all. BUT. We do have a song, which we learned by heart when driving through dangerous mountains, and a friendiversary. And she knows exactly which bite of a brownie I will enjoy the most, so that says a lot.

Marce graduates this evening from college, and this is what she has to say about TUCCN:

If there is a man who knows his business, that’s Enrique TorreMolina. With the wisdom of the wisest and the humor of the funniest, Enrique will show you around the queer universe of big cities and small towns. From politics to culture, through places and moments, in the first world and the rest… Don’t you dare miss this fab journey through Enrique’s own queer world.
Marce Orraca / writer & bestie / Mexico City


3 Comments on “Marce says…”

  1. […] no extrañe oficinear en mi Starbucks favorito, echarme en el jardín central de la UDLA a chismear con Marce, preparar y conducir un programa con mis colegas en la cabina radiofónica de Elocuencia 8080, ir a […]

  2. […] 2010 · Dejar un comentario *Publicado en Vivir México el 2 de agosto de 2010 y dedicado a mi querida Marce, vendedora-del-metro de […]

  3. Marce says:

    Kikito:
    Leí un mail de las amigas de Martha, y luego leí este post de los amigos de tí… Y ahora lloro como niña desamparada en la sala de compus de la universidad.
    Moi, jei t’aime mon peitit aimi


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