The ribbon cutting went off without a hitch, with the local newspapers and gay rags reporting West Hollywood’s newest gay sports clinic a welcome addition to the community. A part of me was excited by all of media coverage (Leslie was ecstatic), but another part of me welcomed the day when a gay business would be accepted just like any other business, with little fanfare. At that point, perhaps we’d be so assimilated no one would care if it was a gay, straight, black, or asian business. It would be solely a business– and that would be enough.

Seeing Raymond stop by AGAIN to wish me congratulations definitely struck a nerve. Okay, this guy was definitely being more than just “friendly.”

“I brought you this.” He handed me a small bundle of dried herbs. “It’s a sage stick. You should burn it in your office for good luck.”

“What happens if I set off the smoke alarm?”

“Then that’s a sign you need a new job.”

We laughed, then smiled awkwardly.

“Well, thank you,” I mumbled, unsure what else to say as he lingered in my office.

“Listen, I don’t know what you and your husband are doing tonight, but would you be interested in joining me for dinner?”

Whether it was the ring on my finger or the concern in my eyes, he could tell I was married and was clearly respecting my boundaries. I countered “Oh, well, I don’t know. See Drew left for a conference up in Montana and…”

“I understand. Well, perhaps some other time.”

I realized this guy wasn’t cruising me or trying to get me in his pants. He was just being friendly because for whatever reason, he was lonely.

This handsome man was lonely? It just goes to show you that assumptions, particularly those about gorgeous gay men being party animals, are wrong.

“Well, no. I mean, I’m free,” I choked out of me. “As long as you know it’s not a date.”

“No, no. Not a date. Just friends.”

I wasn’t sure why but suddenly I wanted to kiss his entire body from head to toe.

Sitting at Marix restaurant, I could tell the margaritas were affecting us because we kept laughing about the most ridiculous stories--- from tragic childhood pet hamster stories to our individual coming out sagas. We were having a blast.

And then I mentioned my recent dog bite trauma, describing the West Hollywood matron with a wonderful sarcastic glee in my eye. And then he froze, “Does she have an English accent?” He asked.

“Yes!”

He roared with laughter. “Two terriers, one gray and one white?”

I nodded, waiting.

“Christina Sandles,” Raymond said. “Her neighborhood nickname is the Ice Bitch. She lives on my block!”

I froze in my drunken stupor, and then we cackled with laughter.

We meandered through the backyard of the psycho woman’s home, giggling to ourselves as we poured an entire box of Tide laundry soap into her swimming pool. I could hear the two terriers barking from inside her home.

Usually, revenge isn’t my style. But there was something comforting about knowing what goes around, comes around. And besides, her swimming pool looked filthy. As I looked over at Raymond, I saw his forearms wet from the swimming pool water. His skin and muscled hands looked beautiful in the evening light.

I was having such a good time, but I knew if I pushed our relationship any further–it would cross boundaries I was painfully aware that would bring nothing but hardship.

I missed Drew, and wished he was here.