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

I, too, have known Cupid’s arrow, but I feel resentful. These people don’t know what lost love really is. I order another vodka tonic. My own Inevitable Invisibility came faster than I’d ever suspected. I am not just Andy-less, I am posse-less. I didn’t ever really have or need one, but there was always a familiar face in a pub, or a customer who wanted me to join their table. Not now.


I will be more specific next time I make a wish, because I suddenly see Artie playing a game of darts against himself. He’s the closest of the Theatrilicious staff to my age. Before I can hide, he’s on me with a smirk.


“Because it hides my embarrassment at being caught here?”


“It hides your gin blossoms. I was ready to watch some world premiere Lifetime movie, then I thought, hell, go hang with the hopeless and loveless.”


Chapter 59