The Curse Is Broken

I'd been wracking my brain, looking for something that wasn't there, a simple name. The last name, in fact, of my last boyfriend.

Two hours I spent trying to remember it. In vain...

That's just the omen I'd been waiting for; proof that I've finally moved on.

* * *

The last relationship curse I was under was broken when I received a kiss from a straight guy.

Ed was a totally hot straight guy - tall, lean, a redhead - who got so drunk at a party one time he let his girlfriend divulge the fact that he'd always wondered what it would be like to kiss a guy. I was a little tipsy myself, and since I was the only guy at that particular party who was into being kissed by guys, I stepped up.

He was an amazing kisser, so I went for it in a big way. I'd been dying to grab his ass for months, and so I did. He responded by grinding into me, and I won't tell you what I felt then, but it was nice. For a moment it was so intense that even the sound of our friends roaring with drunken approval fell away.

When it was over I whispered in his ear: "Curiosity sated?" To which he replied: "Yes, thank you." Imagine a gay guy saying thank you for a kiss. I could have been greedy and asked him if there was anything else he wanted, but I didn't. For once in my tacky life I was tasteful.

A week later I met the man who would be my longest-serving boyfriend.

* * *

I wasn't sure what it would take to break the curse I've been under, but I knew it wouldn't be the same as the last. This is the main reason I didn't spend five years trying to finagle another kiss out of a straight guy. That and the fact that all the straight guys I know whom I consider even remotely snoggy all have fabulous wives.

Otherwise, I'd have been all over Barrett like an Episcopal vestment. IsallI'msayin'...

It's all over now but the in-depth analysis. I felt the curse's power weakening during (and even just before) the Seattle Sojourn; what remains is to determine the extent of it, and then repair any of the damage it caused before...

Well, before I shout "Next!" and the line at the deli counter of my sex life inches forward.