It just does
In the end, in the true definition of end, the finale, the fat woman is singing her song-FINALLY, that kind of END: it all works out. Everything. The moon, the sun, the earth, and the stupid vending machine at work that owes me a $1.75. It just does.
KFC never occured. Because once I decided to lay my gay ass by my bowl, the phone rang. It was Frank. 86 the KFC, leaving before 11:30, liked to see you-call me. Which resulted in an early morning moment on his back porch, the sun is bringing light into the day, movers are clearing his house like barbie collectors at an estate sale, tranquility in chaos type of moment.
I had put together a little package, I like to call: "The Gay Man's survival guide to making it through lifes little changes". It included Porn, and a bottle of Royal Bitch wine! And a card.
Inside the card, I wrote-what we both knew. That this was it. We will probably not see each other again-and we are both at peace with that.
For once, in my life, I have made peace with a relationship, with dignity, respect, and understanding.
I broke down. Quickly, Quietly, and without much prompting. We had a little moment, life goes on.
We kissed each other on the lips-a first. He gave me a plant that at the final corrall, just didn't make the cut.
I composed myself, did some MUCH needed retail therapy, cried, and went to bed.
He's gone. And I don't have the strength to drive by his house, to confirm what I already know.
And, I don't have his forwarding address.
It works out in the end. It just does.
KFC never occured. Because once I decided to lay my gay ass by my bowl, the phone rang. It was Frank. 86 the KFC, leaving before 11:30, liked to see you-call me. Which resulted in an early morning moment on his back porch, the sun is bringing light into the day, movers are clearing his house like barbie collectors at an estate sale, tranquility in chaos type of moment.
I had put together a little package, I like to call: "The Gay Man's survival guide to making it through lifes little changes". It included Porn, and a bottle of Royal Bitch wine! And a card.
Inside the card, I wrote-what we both knew. That this was it. We will probably not see each other again-and we are both at peace with that.
For once, in my life, I have made peace with a relationship, with dignity, respect, and understanding.
I broke down. Quickly, Quietly, and without much prompting. We had a little moment, life goes on.
We kissed each other on the lips-a first. He gave me a plant that at the final corrall, just didn't make the cut.
I composed myself, did some MUCH needed retail therapy, cried, and went to bed.
He's gone. And I don't have the strength to drive by his house, to confirm what I already know.
And, I don't have his forwarding address.
It works out in the end. It just does.