A Broken Bond


My ex Morgan and I had tried to be friends.

A movie here. An email there. And texts most everyday.

But last Sunday I invited him to see “Elliot Loves” at the LGBT film festival in Baltimore’s Highlandtown.

Afterward I made a suggestion to him. The next day he said he was considering it and I urged him to just do it.

And he texted something curt. I texted something curt back.

And all the anger and frustration and hurt and pain we felt spilt out in a volley of texts.

We both said things we shouldn’t have. Petty, nasty things. Things meant to inflict pain.

The next day I tried to apologize. But Morgan said he wanted nothing to do with me. To not text or call.

So the bond is broken.

Morgan if you read this thanks for being so supportive and always encouraging me to aim higher.

Thanks for being my first real love in this new gay life. To me you will always be one of the sexiest and kindest men I know, warts and all.

Thanks for walking a part of this life with me. And hanging with me and my daughter.

And for being the first man I was serious enough to introduce to my Mom although she threatened to “fuck you up” if you messed with her baby boy.

And I meant what I said. If you ever need me in this crazy world I will be there.

Love Immanuel