The mid-40s are that time in a gay man's life when his major paradigm shifts from sexy to Sansabelts. But when Barry Grooms's partner of twenty years is killed on Barry's forty-fifth birthday, his world doesn't so much evolve as it does explode.<br><br>After navigating through the surreal conveyor belt of friends and family, he can't eat another casserole or swallow much more advice on what constitutes grief. Still numb, he leaves his homestore and design business in the care of others as he escapes to Key West, then New York. There he gets a thankless new job working for a crazy lady in a poncho, then has too many drinks with a narcissistic Broadway actor. Next it's a nude exercise class that redefines flop sweat, and from there he's on to a relationship with a man twenty years his junior.<br><br>Yet no matter how great the retreat from the man he used to be, life's gravity spins Barry back to the small town where he grew up for one more ironic twist that teaches him how to say goodbye with grace.

The Cool Part of His Pillow

From my window, I see that the basketball net will definitely need to be replaced by spring. As I make a note to also have someone check on the well-being of the two basketballs, now in storage, our receptionist timidly calls to ask if I’m available to Mr. Raoul McCollum, my attorney


I am, in fact. What a coincidence. I want to talk to him, too.


If the GRPL collective’s appliquéd sweaters and Santa caps aren’t Charlie Brown-ish enough, with a misshapen dwarf tree, it’s downright Mary Tyler Mooresian with a cheese ball that looks rolled in mulch and a Jonestown of mushy shrimp felled around rivulets of cocktail sauce.


Once Adele opens the floor to any announcements, I make mine. This will represent a good dry run for the disbelief from friends and colleagues.


Chapter 36