It seems like only yesterday that my gay husband left me.
I remember it well, I was home for Yom Kippur, I was hung over, sprawled on the couch, wearing my new "Im A Wreck" Urban Outfitters tee shirt when Mike announced he was moving to Washington D.C.
While I cant say I was surprised, since I know that eventually everyone I love will abandon me in my moment of need, I was still very sad. But now, at long last, hes come to his senses and moved home.
I will always remember how we met... we had an English class together in high school, and ten minutes into the class one day, a distraught 16 year old Mike ran in, tearfully told the teacher his grandmother had died a sudden and tragic death, and fled the class room, leaving a bunch of stoned but deeply concerned A-schoolers in his wake.
The next day when I saw Mike in the hall, I told him how sorry I was for his loss. He looked at me like I was crazy, rolled his eyes and said "Oh, yeah, thanks. Actually, I just had a date I was running a little late for... but whatever." And the rest is history.
Over the next couple of years, Mike and I helped each other cope with the deaths of ten more grandparents and about a dozen aunts and uncles.
What we had was eternal... Perhaps Mike's mother put it best when she said... "Ugh, I cant believe you two are still friends."
Like a good gay husband, Mike is there for me in sickness... Like when I get really hung over and I need someone to hold my hair back while I vomit, and in health... like in the summers when Im all tan and blonde.
For richer... Like when I date a Senior Vice President, and for poorer... Like when I dated Brett.
In good times... Like when we got stoned and convinced our friend she could get pregnant from giving head because she had an ulcer, and bad... Like when she believed us and missed her final to go get the morning after pill.
For better... Like when I fixed my eyebrows and grew my hair out, and for worse... Like in high school when I looked like Kelly Osborne.
And in turn, I stood by him through the emergency room visits, the arrests, the institutionalizations, the really bad Sun In hair do.
It was an amicable separation... I told him he was dead to me, threw a bagel at his head and cried. But I always knew hed be back. And I was right.
So in honor of Mikes return, please help me as I petition to have the Vince Lombardi Rest Stop renamed the Mikey P Love Palace and TCBY Franchise.
Please support the cause and write to your local congressman.
