I'd seen a few of those photos from Joey's modeling days. From the shrine within a shrine. Photos his mother had tacked to the dressing mirror in her room. The room which to this day remains undisturbed and off-limits.
He doesn't believe me when I tell him that the man he is now is so much more attractive, so much more masculine than that smooth, skinny twink from the billboards. He may have been cute back then; now he's hot. He says he's old and out of shape. I've been trying to convince him otherwise long enough to know he's not just being coy. In his mind, those were his glory days. Long gone. It doesn't matter to him that I've never been more sincere about anything in my life.
I knew he had something to tell me within the first couple seconds of saying hello. He doesn't usually make small talk by asking how I've been or how I'm doing. He was dancing around something. I was at work and tried to nudge him to his point, ready for anything.
"So Joey, what's up? Everything okay?"
It was cute how he said, "I have some good news and bad news..." There was really only one actual news factoid, just two perspectives on it.
What's my perspective? I want Joey to be happy. He deserves it. And I gave up my right to have any opinion in the matter over three years ago.
So Joey's seeing someone. Explains why I hadn't heard from him since he showed up on my doorstep less than three weeks ago. Typical of Joey, he remembered it as being "a couple months ago."
"It was a couple weeks ago. It'll be three weeks tomorrow."
"Really?? Wow. Feels like months."
He sounds happy. Anyone else need a drink?