I told Drew that I couldn't see him anymore.

I'd been at the gallery, waiting to take Donna out to lunch when I saw Drew looking at my painting.

He saw me and waved.

I had no choice but to wave back.

He walked over to me. "I want that piece, Greg," he said, giving me a hug. "That is the most beautiful painting you've ever done. I always knew you were talented, but this...I can't believe it."

He hugged me again. I didn't hug him back.

"Lets go celebrate," said Drew, grabbing my arm. "Just the two of us. My treat. I can't believe it. I'd buy it right now if I could. Do you think they'd give me a discount because I've slept with the artist?"

I pulled Drew's hand off my arm. "I can't go out with you."

He looked at me. "Why? What's up?"

"Nothing's up. I just don't want to celebrate with you."

"Why not? It'd be just like old times."

"Just like old times, huh," I said. "You and me closing down the bars and only going home after we find Mr. Right. Who, after we had a few drinks-- was just anybody with a tight ass and a hard dick? Those the old times you were talking about? I know, because before Dr. Mince found me-- I was worse than you. You used to kid me about it, remember? "You'd let anybody take you, if they were cute enough." I think that's what you said. You were right then, but you'd be wrong now. You wondered how I did that painting? It's all because Dr. Mince healed me. He showed me that I don't have to live in the filth you call home. That I could find myself if I only believed in the one true way to freedom. When you find it for yourself I'll talk to you. Until then. Good-bye!"

I got Donna and left Drew standing alone.