The Honeymoon is Over

We bicker now. Over stupid shit, like how to scramble a perfect egg or load the dishwasher.

“Put the top of the plates facing inward so the dishwasher can clean them better,” “Morgan” says to me.

“Negro, who is cleaning this dirty ass kitchen tonight? Me or you?,” I answer, my voice testy but amused. “If you want the dishwasher loaded a certain way well goddammit you should have started cleaning it first.”

Morgan used to whip me up gourmet flans for dessert. Now he runs across the street to the Korean market for ice cream sandwiches for dessert — you can get the cheap ones two for $2.

We used wander museums on the weekend, admiring the work of the masters. Now most weekends we lay on the sofa in the TV room in our underwear, watching DVDs. I fart in the comforter and laugh when Morgan wrinkles up his nose.

Yep, you can say the honeymoon is over. I’ve been dating Morgan now for 10 months, the longest I have dated any man since I went from the straight world to the gay world.  A few days after we met I started spending the night and just never went home. So I gave up my lease in July and moved to his rowhouse. He has met my mother and my daughter has come over weekends to hang out, sometimes bringing a friend.

You can say this gay relationship has settled into the comfort zone. It’s not perfect but it’s a lot better than I expected.

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