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

WWAD? This seems to be the ticker symbol dashing along the bottom of my brain’s frame. I remember him quoting Wallace Stevens: “Sometimes you must go too far to see what would suffice.”


What the hell. I left my dignity at the legless man. What is clothing but armor? I am going to Nudercise. 17: Jarod Is a Lot of Things


After I do three gazillion crunches—cleaning the house right before the housekeeper arrives—I am in a hot shower for about an hour, hoping I’ll lose weight in the steam. I rinse my hair with the coldest water I can bear. This, I have heard, imparts extra shine. I need to shine extra.


If I mix up a pitcher of Master Cleanse right now, I wonder how much weight I can lose by noon. Damn it. I don’t have cayenne pepper.


I quickly call Marjorie, who’s paged me three times. She tells me that, on an early walk, she stopped in Theatrilicious at seven-thirty A.M. “Why did the workroom smell like falafel?”


Chapter 72