The Fruitfly's Encyclopedia

Thanksgiving

As the weather slowly turned colder, all across Gaycrest Burberry scarves slowly made their way out of storage, pea coats were sent to the dry cleaners, returned crisply pressed in their plastic bags, and I deliberated between investing in chocolate brown leather riding boots or slouchy black over the knee stiletto fuck-me boots.

On the other side of Gaycrest, Beto was also having a hard time making a decision. Having just moved into a new apartment complete with an outdoor fire pit should have made the annual Thanksgiving celebration planning a snap, but the gaggle was in chaos. Gary and Chad were officially on the rocks after a disastrous anniversary celebration, and deciding whether to invite one of the offending parties over the other meant alienating half of the group. However, to invite them both was a sure guarantee of Gay Side Story. And to invite neither of them meant not having a party. Never had Beto let a bit of animosity stand in the way of a celebration, nor was he about to start.

“Hello dah-ling! Did you get Beto’s invite? Are you going?”
“Yes, but I still haven’t bought my new boots and since my whole outfit hinged on the perfect shoe, I have nothing to wear!” I wailed miserably into the phone.
“Quelle domage.” Leigh responded dryly. “However, I think we may have more to worry about than your choice in footwear.”
“More important? What could possibly be more important? I mean, this is still a party being thrown by a gay man is it not?”
“It appears our friend Beto has invited both Gary and Chad, and damn the consequences.”
“Oh. Well what else is he supposed to do? To not invite both would be very clearly choosing sides, and our Beto would never rock the boat like that.”
“True… I suppose all that is left is to make an appearance in all of our fabulous glory and face what may be.”
“That’s what I said.” 

“I’m here! Am I late?” I found Beto in his kitchen with a dry martini, wearing a burgundy herringbone button-down and dark grey flannel slacks.
“Of course, but gorgeous as usual! Everyone is already out back.  Apparently the prospect of bloodshed attracts a crowd.”
“Those Romans were onto something. Are both Gary and Chad here?” 
“Yes and surprisingly civil.  But even better… Logan brought his new boy toy, Alexander.”
“Oh?”

“Rumor has it that Alexander and Chad were an item even while the Gary and Chad romance was being played out.” “So there may be fireworks after all…”

“And even more upsetting? Alexander has the worst fashion sense ever. He’s wearing some kind of silver shirt, must be a polyester blend. Ugh.”

I rolled my eyes at Beto and went out to the patio to find the gaggle nicely mingling, martinis and wine glasses in hand. I immediately spotted Logan and waved him over.

“So where is he? Where is your new lovah?”
“Wow, news travels fast. He’s over there. See him? Cute bubble but?”

I was about to ask Logan if the rumors about Alexander and Chad were true but Leigh, standing behind Logan motioned me to shut up. So Logan had no idea. After some small talk I moved off.

Several hours later, the party was in full swing.

Gary was standing by the fire pit pretending to talk to Stu but really looking miserably in Chad’s direction. Chad was across the patio laughing and gesturing wildly to the group of people that he had obviously brought with him but that none of us had ever met. Logan was by the hor’s douver table looking adoringly at Alexander who was looked bored or maybe just confused. Beto was on top of the table by the fire pit doing his best go-go dancer impression. Paolo had called it a night and gone either home or to hunt Filipino bottoms at a bar. Stu had abandoned Gary and was chatting up a rather round man with a shaved head and a goatee, holding his drink a bit higher than usual and swaying, whether in tune to the music or the sloshing of the wine inside him, I couldn’t tell.

By midnight, after having consumed several slices of pumpkin cheesecake and more than a few vodka sodas, I really needed to use the bathroom. 
“Sorry Jimmy, I don’t mean to interrupt but I need to use the facilities.”
“Jerray.  It’s Jerray”
“Oh right. Sorry Jerry. I’ll be back.”
“No not Jerry, JERR-AY. And I wasn’t done with my story, I was just getting to the good part.”
“Err, sorry Jerr-AY.  I’ll be back.”
I ran indoors.
 
It was surprisingly quiet - the only sound the whirr of the heater and the muted sounds of the party outside.
“Which way is the bathroom…” I wondered quietly as I went down the hallway. 

The plush beige carpet silenced even my footsteps.  I opened the first door. I caught my breath as I saw what could only be described as a bit unsettling; a bed covered in porcelain dolls, and a leather sling strung up from the ceiling next to the bed with a blow up doll in it wearing a strap on.  I jumped a little bit and quickly closed the door. I really hoped that was Beto’s new roommate’s room and not Beto’s.

I continued down the hallway to the next door.  This time I opened it slowly to reveal an office of sorts with a desk, computer, TV, and three guys huddled around a mirror on the floor. They didn’t even notice me as I softly closed the door.

Further on was the last door and next to it the hallway made a sharp turn and met the stairs. Sure that the last door had to be the bathroom, I walked up to it but just as I was about to open it, a flash of movement caught my eye.  Turning to the stairs I made out the shadowy outline of someone’s back, and as my eyes focused I saw what could have been Chad.  “Chad!” I called out softly, realizing I hadn’t talked to him all night. The figure turned quickly to face me and I saw that there was another person between him and the wall, wearing a silvery shirt.  The three of us were frozen for a few seconds and then Chad turned and grabbing Alexander’s hand, silently went quickly upstairs.

Forgetting the urge to pee, I quickly went back outside and  spent the rest of the party avoiding Jerray and his ridiculously boring stories, avoiding Gary, because really, what do you tell the person that is convinced his break up is temporary and fixable, and avoiding Logan because all he could talk about was how great it was going with Alexander and how he was going to ask him to be his boyfriend that week.

An hour later everyone had left except Leigh, Logan and I.
“Have you seen Alexander?” Logan asked.  “I haven’t seen him in a while and I’m his ride home.”
“Err…maybe he’s in the bathroom?”  I offered helpfully. 
“Maybe he is…” Logan responded uncertainly. 
“Why don’t you go look in the kitchen and I’ll go look in the bed… err, bathrooms” I said a bit desperately.
Logan gave me a curious look before saying “Ok” and heading to the kitchen.

I tore off to the patio, running into Leigh. “Leigh, Leigh, where’s Beto?”
“Probably passed out in bed, why?”
“Logan’s looking for Alexander!”
“So?”
“So I think I saw him… and Chad. Together. Going up to the bedroom. And everyone already left but Logan refuses to leave before finding out if Alexander got home safely. And It’s only a matter of time before he finds them together.”

“Oh no” Leigh groaned. “Really? Maybe we should let them find out. Serve them right.”
“Yeah but what about Logan? He would be heartbroken if he found out.”
“I supposed Gary would be too. Ok lets go to the bedrooms.”

We went inside but it was too late. Logan was coming down the stairs, his face expressionless. He knew. Leigh and I looked at him.

“I don’t think I should drive just yet. I’m just going to sit on the couch for a bit.”  Logan mumbled.
“And Alexander?” I asked despite the look that Leigh shot me.
“I uh, he um, I think he’s lying down, I’ll wake him up in a few.”
Logan sat on the couch looking down at his hands clasped between his knees.
Leigh and I looked at each other at a loss.

Several minutes went by. “How dare he???” Logan finally burst out. “With Gary’s ex-boyfriend!!!!” “I LOVED him. LOVED HIM!!!!”  He looked like he was ready to burst into tears. Just as I was about to walk over to him he stood up. “Happy Thanksgiving” he mumbled. “Be grateful you don’t have a soul-sucking, gold-digging whore. They deserve each other.”

Leigh and I left silently, not really knowing what to say.

The next day I saw that Gary had updated his online profile to say he was grateful for the hope of good things to come. I knew he was talking about Chad, and that he had no idea about Alexander... yet.

Beto’s update said he was grateful for friendships, except when friends took advantage of his 500 thread-count sheets.

Leigh’s said he was thankful for kittens.

Alexander’s said he was thankful for options.

I knew what I was not thankful for; knowing something that I wish I didn’t. I was however grateful for my two new pairs of boots, and made sure to note that online. After updating my profile I sat down at the kitchen table. I had a few phone calls to make.

Happy Thanksgiving!

The Fruitfly

Symptoms

It was a rainy Thursday morning and I was driving around Gaycrest in my Twink-Mobile running errands. It seemed that I kept hitting every single red light. At one light, which seemed to last longer than most, I happened to look up, and saw a big blue billboard that said,

 “SHOW HIM YOU CARE THIS THANKSGIVING!  TELL HIM YOU HAVE AN STD, ITS AS EASY AS SENDING AN E-CARD”

My first reaction was to laugh, but then I started to wonder, how many people actually use this service? It seemed to me that telling someone they  have been potentially putting their health in danger, through an
e-card no less, was not particularly romantic.  How many people would appreciate waking up to that in their in-box?  Still, I supposed it is easier than doing it in person, and even better than not saying anything at all.

After a particularly engaging weekend, Leigh had gone for a check-up at what we affectionately referred to as the ‘Dirty Whore Clinic’. Promptly at 9am he showed up to his appointment and was dismayed to see that was not a single vinyl chair that did not already have someone’s ass comfortably embedded into it.

A rather large woman with half blonde/half black hair in braids and bright purple spangly nails sat behind the counter.

            “CAN I HELP YOU?”

Rosa yelled as he made his way to the glass window, with the walk of not only someone who is already uncomfortable with his gigantic height, but added to that there were forty pairs of expectant eyes glued on him.

             “I have and appointment” 

            “APPOINTMENT FOR WHAT?”

             “STD testing” Leigh muttered uncomfortably.

            “WHAT ARE YOU HERE FOR?!?”

             “STD TESTING!!!!”

Rosa pushed some  papers through the glass partition for him to fill out.

            “DO YOU HAVE SYMPTOMS?”

Leigh looked at her incredulously. He leaned forward so that his rather long torso was twisted awkwardly through the window, his nose inches away from Rosa’s.

            “Yes”

He whispered looking right at her. Rosita jumped back.

             “SIR! YOU MUST KEEP BEHIND THE GLASS PARTITION! NOW SIR!  STEP BACK         NOW!”

Leigh jumped back and gathered the forms.

            “DO YOU PRESENTLY HAVE SYMPTOMS???”

            “YES!!!!” He yelled loudly.

           “YES I HAVE SYMPTOMS!” He yelled again for the benefit of the cheap seats.

Slightly embarrassed by his outburst, he silently slunk away, navigating through the crowded waiting room, trying not to make eye contact with anyone, fully aware that they were all now leaning away from him, legs tucked firmly under their chairs.  Unable to find an empty chair, he twisted awkwardly into the corner against the water cooler. Leigh wished Karl was burning in hell. Or at least burning when he peed, and felt really, really sorry for Paolo.

~

Karl was not only an ex-marine, but had the mentality of “Don’t ask don’t tell” when it came to drippy itches or itchy drips, as well as bumps, burning or rashes. When Karl had been ‘straight’, twenty some years ago, he had gotten HPV from a girl.

His doctor had given him some cream and advise.

            “Not a big deal son. Most people get HPV at some point. No need to tell anyone –   Then again don’t let anyone give you oral sex if you’re not wearing a condom.   You’ll be fine.”

His dad had drunkenly slapped him on the back.

            “Welcome to the club son! You’re not a man until you have given some slut the  clap at least twice.” (Obviously not aware that the clap had nothing to do with  HPV).

His boyfriend broke up with him, but for other reasons.

            “I put that in my mouth?!? After you put it in a…. pussy?  How dare you?!?!?”

Karl decided never again to talk about STD’s. Nothing a shot of penicillin couldn’t cure. Or so he told himself. 

~

Paolo on the other hand was the complete opposite. He fully reported any abnormalities – even ingrown hairs –  to any and all men that could have the potential of ending up in bed with him. This included strangers at bars. He refused to become intimate with anyone until a full health assessment had been made. This included checking the bottoms of feet and hands for tell-tale rashes, and close up genital inspections done with the clinical precision of a lab technician. And while this made him ‘responsible’, and ‘caring’ it also served to show him how unfair life was. Needless to say, Karl, and other men like him were getting a lot more action in bed than Paolo was. 

 ~

And somewhere, someone was turning on their computer and logging into their email, unaware there was an unpleasant surprise waiting for which they would be forever grateful.

Commitment

 

8:30 pm and I am at the gym running like a demented hamster on the treadmill. Someone gets on the treadmill next to me and starts running. After twenty minutes of running side by side, both of us lost in the world of our iPods, I glance, doing a once over and quickly glance away. He’s perfect. Tall and somewhat toned.  His hair is fine, slightly wavy, a light honey blond that flops over his eyes as he runs. I glance over again out of the corner of my eye and make contact with deep green eyes and a slightly crooked smile. I quickly look forward, just in time to keep myself from falling off the treadmill. If I am going to die, it won’t be in front of the most gorgeous guy I have seen in ages.  I keep running and I can’t help doing something which many would argue is a trait of the feminine psyche. In my mind an image of us flashes living together in a perfect condo, no make it a perfect loft with perfect leather furniture and a perfect view as he pours me some wine. I am so lost in my daydream that before I know it the time on the treadmill is over and perfect stranger is gone.

“So what you are telling me is that commitment, the blissful ever after is a fantasy?” 

I’m having lunch with Marina and Beto and I am telling them about the gym guy fantasy.

“Well, yeah. We’re human. Evolutionarily we are not meant for life-time commitment” I respond to Beto’s question.

Marina quickly adds, “I agree. I mean, its not impossible, but the majority of couples stay in it out of comfort – in the long run I mean.”

“I just can’t accept that the concept of soul mates doesn’t exist” sighed Beto.

Marina answers, “No, soul mates exist, but it’s interesting that the excitement of building a future together is there at the beginning of the relationship, and then, somewhere along the line we still love that person, but… but we realize that the person we invested so much in doesn’t fulfill us completely, or if they do, then something else is missing. So we move on to the next fantasy.”

“So you and Kari…” I venture tentatively.

“She loved me. But I couldn’t give her what she wanted. She was my soul mate, and I will always love her. I guess it was a wrong time wrong place situation.”

“Why does it always come down to that? Perfect timing. In my experience most men think that one is either ready to move in with them, marry them, have their kids, and you’ve only talked to them a handful of times. Or on the other extreme they just want NSA sex.”

Beto looks at me and responds, “because men fall into two categories. They’re either not looking for commitment or their biological clock is ticking. And those will grab whoever crosses their path first.”

“And then you have the in-betweens.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean Marina, the ones that are in relationships but want to act like they’re single. The ones that convince themselves they can’t live without you but wish they were single.”

“Uh-oh. What’s going on?”

“I think Frat-boy may or may not want to be cheating on me.”

“Details please.”

“I caught him chatting with some girl named Stavinska online. After all the years it took him to commit, he finally does, and when he does, decides he wants the best of all worlds.”

Marina looked at Beto. “Stavinska? Is that a name?”

“It sounds like a mail order bride.” Beto responded.

I interrupted them. “I understand, the need for something new, something fresh…”

“So what happened?” Beto asked.

“Well he had been staying up really late at night on the computer and I couldn’t see what he was doing but I could hear the ding of the chat notification going on and on. Finally one day I was at the farmer’s market and I run into this girl who I recognized from yoga. We make eye contact and she seems really nervous. I say hi and ask her if she recognizes me. And she says yes, and says she knows I am the Frat-boys girlfriend. That surprised me. Before I could ask her how she knew that she said she was sorry and she’s been having a lot of issues with her girlfriend.  Anyhow she ended up telling me the whole story of her online affair or something like that with my boyfriend.”

“Wow, her girlfriend???  Frat-boy was banging a lesbian? Well banging in the virtual world…”

“Thanks Beto for putting it so poetically. I would rather say he had a flirtation.  Anyhow I got home and asked him what was going on and he lied. He said he didn’t know any chunky big-breasted Russian red-heads. So I told him what had happened at the market and he finally admitted they were exchanging messages of a very sexual nature, but he didn’t really apologize. It was more a justification. Anyhow I wonder if someone stronger and more independent than me would have seen this as a sign we are moving apart. I don’t know, what do you think Marina?”

“I think that you don’t want to rock the boat. I think that its probably not the first time he’s done this to you, because the first time you do something like this you feel so guilty you don’t keep it going this long or lie about it so easily.”

“I beg to differ” said Beto. “Frat-boy is a good guy but his problem is he’s immature and probably just saw this as a way to fantasize without getting caught. This reminds me of Enrique and Carlo though, do you remember Enrique did the same thing to Carlo?  Had an online affair for months. The difference is that they’re actually not even working on their relationship at all.”

“I had forgotten about that!  You’re right, and Carlo found out and even after he found out he still stayed with Enrique even though he later found out that Enrique kept doing that with several people.”

“I wonder why they don’t break up.” I said.

“Because after so many years their hell is better than an unknown heaven. Or at least more comfortable, and they don’t realize life is passing them by. They’re scared that if they let each other go, they won’t have commitment anymore without realizing that they never had it.”

We finished our lunch soon after that and each went our separate ways.  As I drove home, I thought about what Marina had said, about how some people prefer a comfortable hell than and unknown heaven.  I knew that Frat-boy and I still had a lot of fight left for our relationship, but at the same time there was a thin line between sticking it out, fighting for it, and just settling. 

It made me wonder about those couples that cross the line into complacency.  Did they see it coming? Was it so easy to believe that they couldn’t live without their partner, to the point where they could sacrifice what they wanted and needed? Were they ever ready to admit that maybe, just maybe being with their partner was not a waste of time, but it was however wasting the time in which they could be with someone that truly gave them what they wanted and needed.

I hoped that Frat-boy and I wouldn’t become that couple. Ever.

And then I started to daydream about our future, and it was beautiful because it was much more than just a dream about a loft with leather furniture.

Anniversaries

 

Fruitfly

Fruitfly

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The Fruitfly’s Encyclopedia

Anniversaries

One warm and windy July night I tottered briskly on my five inch heels, my arms laden with cake and a cheesy banner that said “That’s Amore!” in spangly letters. I was on my way to The Wine Bandit to celebrate the two year anniversary of our friends Gary and Chad. As I approached the wine bar, I could see through the window that the gaggle was already there. Leigh’s head towered a good foot over everyone else, Stu and Paolo were huddled together, Stu with a glass of red in one hand, looking uncomfortable in his new white sweater which I knew for a fact made his armpits itch.

“Hi!  I’m here, am I late?” I breathlessly crashed in through the entrance, trying to keep the cake from falling and the door from slamming me on my skinny jean covered ass.

“You’re always late. Anyway anniversaries are a crock.” Beto said bitterly, adjusting his new pinstripe suit to fall smoothly over his teal Thomas Pink shirt with french cuffs.

“That’s because you’ve never had an anniversary past three weeks.” Leigh quickly responded.

“More importantly, where are Gary and Chad? I want cake.” I said.

“Oh honey, you always want cake.” Leigh replied. “Where is your monogamous man-friend lover?”

“The boyfriend had a very important meeting with the frat.” I responded, rolling my eyes.

Half and hour and several bottles of wine later, Gary walked in, looking fashionable as always in tight jeans and a Guess shirt with an intricate pattern on the back. Despite looking fabulous, his eyes were sad and he wasn’t smiling. Most importantly, he was alone.

“You’re late! Where’s Chad?” I asked.

Gary responded, “We had a fight. I think we’re breaking up.”

“This is an anniversary party for you guys! Not a break-up party!”

“Beto, shut up. What happened Gary?”

“We were having sex…”

“Usually NOT having sex is the reason for my breakups.” Paolo muttered.

“We were having the best sex ever, until I called him Keith! I can’t believe I’m so stupid!” Gary wailed. “It was going great, and then I said, ‘OH KEITH!!!!’ and he stopped. We were both quiet for a few seconds. Then he silently pulled away, put on his clothes and walked out the door. So I got dressed and went to his place, where he was sitting on the couch, not even dressed for this. I was totally chicken shit so I said, ‘What’s wrong?’”

This elicited a collective groan from the group.

“Two years Gary! You don’t pretend when you fuck up after two years!”

“Yeah I know Paolo. Thanks. But I just… I just couldn’t. Then he said really quietly, ‘I heard you. I heard you call me Keith’ and I denied it. I said to him, ‘No baby, I said Oh-kay! Not oh Keith. Oh-kay like, okay!’ But he didn’t believe me. He said he knows about Keith. How the hell does he know about Keith? It happened three years ago!”

“I dated Keith too and err…”

“YOU told him Beto?”

“Well it may have slipped out. Chad was asking me about Keith and I mentioned that I had dated him before you had Gary.”

I quickly interrupted. “So then what happened Gary?”

“Well since I couldn’t deny it I told him that you know, we all fantasize from time to time about someone else. He said, ‘Yeah but we don’t all scream out someone else’s name, we don’t fantasize to the point where we forget who we’re with.”

Beto interjected, “Sometimes I forget who I’m with…”

“Beto, that’s because you usually met them five minutes ago.” I said.

Gary continued, “Anyhow so then the best explanation I could give was that he shouldn’t be hurt and that it was a compliment! That because I always felt really safe and secure with Keith and now I felt that same way with him!”

Another collective groan.

“Gary! You’ve been with him for two years! Maybe, maybe after two months you can get away with that!”

“I know, I fucked up.”

We ate the cake in silence.

On the walk back to the car Beto and I carried the sad remains of what should have been happy festivities.

“You remember when we all met here five years ago?” I asked Beto

“Yeah, another anniversary. Seems like forever. We barely knew each other.”

“And you thought Paolo was sooo cute.”

“But he was dating Stu at the time.”

We walked on in silence for a few minutes.

“Do you think next year we’ll look back at this and laugh?”

“I don’t know. Maybe next year Paolo and I will be celebrating our anniversary.” Beto responded.

“I thought you were over your Paolo crush. Remember? Not your type?”

“Well yes, but that’s my point. You never know where life takes you. Anyhow, anniversaries are for remembering… and sometimes you laugh and sometimes you cry. But then you eat cake and put off the memories for another year.”

Dropping Beto off at his car I walked towards the Twink-Mobile. As I walked, I had my own fantasy, not about a man, but about next year. I pictured us at the Wine Bandit again, all of us together, I would still be with the Frat-boy, Paolo would have found the love of his life, Stu would be wearing a non-itchy sweater, and Gary and Chad would be ok.

Fruitfly

Fruitfly

About the Fruitfly | Register | Contact

The Fruitfly’s Encyclopedia

Anniversaries

One warm and windy July night I tottered briskly on my five inch heels, my arms laden with cake and a cheesy banner that said “That’s Amore!” in spangly letters. I was on my way to The Wine Bandit to celebrate the two year anniversary of our friends Gary and Chad. As I approached the wine bar, I could see through the window that the gaggle was already there. Leigh’s head towered a good foot over everyone else, Stu and Paolo were huddled together, Stu with a glass of red in one hand, looking uncomfortable in his new white sweater which I knew for a fact made his armpits itch.

“Hi!  I’m here, am I late?” I breathlessly crashed in through the entrance, trying to keep the cake from falling and the door from slamming me on my skinny jean covered ass.

“You’re always late. Anyway anniversaries are a crock.” Beto said bitterly, adjusting his new pinstripe suit to fall smoothly over his teal Thomas Pink shirt with french cuffs.

“That’s because you’ve never had an anniversary past three weeks.” Leigh quickly responded.

“More importantly, where are Gary and Chad? I want cake.” I said.

“Oh honey, you always want cake.” Leigh replied. “Where is your monogamous man-friend lover?”

“The boyfriend had a very important meeting with the frat.” I responded, rolling my eyes.

Half and hour and several bottles of wine later, Gary walked in, looking fashionable as always in tight jeans and a Guess shirt with an intricate pattern on the back. Despite looking fabulous, his eyes were sad and he wasn’t smiling. Most importantly, he was alone.

“You’re late! Where’s Chad?” I asked.

Gary responded, “We had a fight. I think we’re breaking up.”

“This is an anniversary party for you guys! Not a break-up party!”

“Beto, shut up. What happened Gary?”

“We were having sex…”

“Usually NOT having sex is the reason for my breakups.” Paolo muttered.

“We were having the best sex ever, until I called him Keith! I can’t believe I’m so stupid!” Gary wailed. “It was going great, and then I said, ‘OH KEITH!!!!’ and he stopped. We were both quiet for a few seconds. Then he silently pulled away, put on his clothes and walked out the door. So I got dressed and went to his place, where he was sitting on the couch, not even dressed for this. I was totally chicken shit so I said, ‘What’s wrong?’”

This elicited a collective groan from the group.

“Two years Gary! You don’t pretend when you fuck up after two years!”

“Yeah I know Paolo. Thanks. But I just… I just couldn’t. Then he said really quietly, ‘I heard you. I heard you call me Keith’ and I denied it. I said to him, ‘No baby, I said Oh-kay! Not oh Keith. Oh-kay like, okay!’ But he didn’t believe me. He said he knows about Keith. How the hell does he know about Keith? It happened three years ago!”

“I dated Keith too and err…”

“YOU told him Beto?”

“Well it may have slipped out. Chad was asking me about Keith and I mentioned that I had dated him before you had Gary.”

I quickly interrupted. “So then what happened Gary?”

“Well since I couldn’t deny it I told him that you know, we all fantasize from time to time about someone else. He said, ‘Yeah but we don’t all scream out someone else’s name, we don’t fantasize to the point where we forget who we’re with.”

Beto interjected, “Sometimes I forget who I’m with…”

“Beto, that’s because you usually met them five minutes ago.” I said.

Gary continued, “Anyhow so then the best explanation I could give was that he shouldn’t be hurt and that it was a compliment! That because I always felt really safe and secure with Keith and now I felt that same way with him!”

Another collective groan.

“Gary! You’ve been with him for two years! Maybe, maybe after two months you can get away with that!”

“I know, I fucked up.”

We ate the cake in silence.

On the walk back to the car Beto and I carried the sad remains of what should have been happy festivities.

“You remember when we all met here five years ago?” I asked Beto

“Yeah, another anniversary. Seems like forever. We barely knew each other.”

“And you thought Paolo was sooo cute.”

“But he was dating Stu at the time.”

We walked on in silence for a few minutes.

“Do you think next year we’ll look back at this and laugh?”

“I don’t know. Maybe next year Paolo and I will be celebrating our anniversary.” Beto responded.

“I thought you were over your Paolo crush. Remember? Not your type?”

“Well yes, but that’s my point. You never know where life takes you. Anyhow, anniversaries are for remembering… and sometimes you laugh and sometimes you cry. But then you eat cake and put off the memories for another year.”

Dropping Beto off at his car I walked towards the Twink-Mobile. As I walked, I had my own fantasy, not about a man, but about next year. I pictured us at the Wine Bandit again, all of us together, I would still be with the Frat-boy, Paolo would have found the love of his life, Stu would be wearing a non-itchy sweater, and Gary and Chad would be okOne warm and windy July night I tottered briskly on my five inch heels, my arms laden with cake and a cheesy banner that said “That’s Amore!” in spangly letters. I was on my way to The Wine Bandit to celebrate the two year anniversary of our friends Gary and Chad. As I approached the wine bar, I could see through the window that the gaggle was already there. Leigh’s head towered a good foot over everyone else, Stu and Paolo were huddled together, Stu with a glass of red in one hand, looking uncomfortable in his new white sweater which I knew for a fact made his armpits itch.

One warm and windy July night I tottered briskly on my five inch heels, my arms laden with cake and a cheesy banner that said “That’s Amore!” in spangly letters. I was on my way to The Wine Bandit to celebrate the two year anniversary of our friends Gary and Chad. As I approached the wine bar, I could see through the window that the gaggle was already there. Leigh’s head towered a good foot over everyone else, Stu and Paolo were huddled together, Stu with a glass of red in one hand, looking uncomfortable in his new white sweater which I knew for a fact made his armpits itch.

“Hi!  I’m here, am I late?” I breathlessly crashed in through the entrance, trying to keep the cake from falling and the door from slamming me on my skinny jean covered ass.

“You’re always late. Anyway anniversaries are a crock.” Beto said bitterly, adjusting his new pinstripe suit to fall smoothly over his teal Thomas Pink shirt with french cuffs.

“That’s because you’ve never had an anniversary past three weeks.” Leigh quickly responded.

“More importantly, where are Gary and Chad? I want cake.” I said.

“Oh honey, you always want cake.” Leigh replied. “Where is your monogamous man-friend lover?”

“The boyfriend had a very important meeting with the frat.” I responded, rolling my eyes.

Half and hour and several bottles of wine later, Gary walked in, looking fashionable as always in tight jeans and a Guess shirt with an intricate pattern on the back. Despite looking fabulous, his eyes were sad and he wasn’t smiling. Most importantly, he was alone.

“You’re late! Where’s Chad?” I asked.

Gary responded, “We had a fight. I think we’re breaking up.”

“This is an anniversary party for you guys! Not a break-up party!”

“Beto, shut up. What happened Gary?”

“We were having sex…”

“Usually NOT having sex is the reason for my breakups.” Paolo muttered.

“We were having the best sex ever, until I called him Keith! I can’t believe I’m so stupid!” Gary wailed. “It was going great, and then I said, ‘OH KEITH!!!!’ and he stopped. We were both quiet for a few seconds. Then he silently pulled away, put on his clothes and walked out the door. So I got dressed and went to his place, where he was sitting on the couch, not even dressed for this. I was totally chicken shit so I said, ‘What’s wrong?’”

This elicited a collective groan from the group.

“Two years Gary! You don’t pretend when you fuck up after two years!”

“Yeah I know Paolo. Thanks. But I just… I just couldn’t. Then he said really quietly, ‘I heard you. I heard you call me Keith’ and I denied it. I said to him, ‘No baby, I said Oh-kay! Not oh Keith. Oh-kay like, okay!’ But he didn’t believe me. He said he knows about Keith. How the hell does he know about Keith? It happened three years ago!”

“I dated Keith too and err…”

“YOU told him Beto?”

“Well it may have slipped out. Chad was asking me about Keith and I mentioned that I had dated him before you had Gary.”

I quickly interrupted. “So then what happened Gary?”

“Well since I couldn’t deny it I told him that you know, we all fantasize from time to time about someone else. He said, ‘Yeah but we don’t all scream out someone else’s name, we don’t fantasize to the point where we forget who we’re with.”

Beto interjected, “Sometimes I forget who I’m with…”

“Beto, that’s because you usually met them five minutes ago.” I said.

Gary continued, “Anyhow so then the best explanation I could give was that he shouldn’t be hurt and that it was a compliment! That because I always felt really safe and secure with Keith and now I felt that same way with him!”

Another collective groan.

“Gary! You’ve been with him for two years! Maybe, maybe after two months you can get away with that!”

“I know, I fucked up.”

We ate the cake in silence.

On the walk back to the car Beto and I carried the sad remains of what should have been happy festivities.

“You remember when we all met here five years ago?” I asked Beto.

“Yeah, another anniversary. Seems like forever. We barely knew each other.”

“And you thought Paolo was sooo cute.”

“But he was dating Stu at the time.”

We walked on in silence for a few minutes.

“Do you think next year we’ll look back at this and laugh?”

“I don’t know. Maybe next year Paolo and I will be celebrating our anniversary.” Beto responded.

“I thought you were over your Paolo crush. Remember?  Not your type?”

“Well yes, but that’s my point. You never know where life takes you. Anyhow, anniversaries are for remembering… and sometimes you laugh and sometimes you cry. But then you eat cake and put off the memories for another year.”

Dropping Beto off at his car I walked towards the Twink-Mobile. As I walked, I had my own fantasy, not about a man, but about next year. I pictured us at the Wine Bandit again, all of us together, I would still be with the Frat-boy, Paolo would have found the love of his life, Stu would be wearing a non-itchy sweater, and Gary and Chad would be ok.