"Honey, that ship has already sailed."

Photo by Rafael Garcin on Unsplash

September 17, 2019

Wednesday, I meet Tacoma Joe. We’re having breakfast, at a place I insisted serve martinis. (It won’t be an early breakfast.) Then we’ll go back to his place and have sex.

I love Joe, as I love all my good men friends. I’ve known him for years, perhaps longer than a decade. We’ve been close friends-wise, and occasionally have more intimate connections. It’s difficult for him. He’s much more introverted than I am, takes things much more seriously. He worries about me so I worry about him. I want him to feel comfortable.

He’s a very good man. I wouldn’t deliberately hurt him for the world. It will be good to see him. It will be good to have some martinis. It will be good to fool around. It will just be good.

I remember getting out of his hot tub once and saying, “Avert your eyes so we can maintain the illusion I’m not as big as I really am.”

“Honey, that ship has already sailed,” he replied.

I laughed. I laughed hard. That’s the kind of intimacy we have. Where he can make a joke like that and make me laugh. Because he loves me, too. I’m his good friend, too.

Thank God for my good friends. Where would I be without them?