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

“Let’s go do something that makes us feel ashamed.”


He doesn’t mean the post-Pride pier dance. He is inferring a sex act, or plural.


I went to Nudercise hoping it would lead to more.


Or, more accurately, at his door, since we are descending into the subway station bound for his Brooklyn apartment. At the platform, we suddenly have nothing to say to each other. I stare at the customer information screen. Our train will be here in nine minutes.


Jarod points to a poster that has been defaced into protesting the presence of ROTC on state college campuses.


Chapter 74