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Her and George were engaged and busy planning their future. After a few months I figured I would never hear from her again.She messaged me telling me that she had been doing a lot of reminiscing on her college years and was wondering how I was doing. I replied with a quick update, leaving out the lesbian part out. I was not sure how she would take that. A few days later she replied that she and George were still married and she was living in her home city. She had a job as an ER Nurse and they recently purchased a house. Over the next several weeks we went back and forth like this.One day, Tara emailed me asking if I would like to go on a vacation with her. She said that she got a week off work but George couldn’t. She wanted to know if I wanted to go to the mountains of Tennessee with her and rent a cabin. It sounded like it would be a good time for us to catch up and just get away from our jobs and it would just be like college again. We found a nice two bedroom cabin. Even without having that giddy, starry-eyed feeling, there was still plenty of magic remaining when we fell in love with us being friends first. Moreover, being friends already, our blossoming relationship felt deeper and more meaningful, than it would have ordinarily when first beginning a new relationship. Rather than it being a physical attraction with our emotions so close to the surface, it was much deeper than that. As our friendship grew and our love relationship morphed into a relationship of co-dependency, we were less apt to question and rethink our decision later, especially when we started considering marriage. Once we saw one another standing at the altar, being friends first quickly warmed the cold feet we normally and admittedly had when walking down the aisle. In our situation, fate, no doubt, played a heavy hand in bringing us together on, of all days, February 14, 1968. In was on that park bench that we fell in love. It started with a first kiss that lasted nearly.
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’ Davy patted me on the shoulder and walked out of the bathroom. I felt like an idiot. I felt like one of those idiots in those chick-lit novels my wife liked to read. I took a deep breath and another deep breath. I’d never been in love before, at least not like this. I cared about my wife, and I was fond of her, there was a sense of familiarity. But whatever I was feeling now was on an whole other scale. I was entering a whole other world. He’d called me sweetheart. Sweetheart. Sweetheart. Was that a gay thing or was that just an artist thing? I splashed some water on my face and returned to the class room. I tried to focus on the fruit, on the painting at hand. Indeed I saw the apples being shiny and the banana being kind of matte. With some white paint I added the light effects, both in the apples and in the banana. When the teacher came by she complimented me about my observations. I accepted the compliment although it was misplaced. Those weren’t my observation, it were.

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