My two best guy friends, Jake and Derek, came over that Saturday morning to cheer me up. I poured three cups of fresh coffee and set out a plate of danishes, a sinful treat in honor of my being dumped by Stephen, my manfriend of three years.
Neither Jake nor Derek had the decency to look like they felt bad for me. “What you need,” Jake said, as he chewed on a cheese danish, “is to purge him from your system.” “I could start drinking,” I said. “That oughtta flush him right out.” Derek shook his head. “No, something more…dramatic, I think.” “Take a trip?” I suggested. “Maybe some sort of spiritual journey? Or a weekend at a health spa?” Jake and Derek were my very gay next-door neighbors who adopted me minutes after I left Oklahoma for a job in Los Angeles. Jake was a lawyer at a non-profi
