I was staring at that sentence on my computer, my mouse hovering over the edit button, deciding what to do.
Things with Dan have been different lately. We started our relationship in September with a date at Amy's Café followed by a manicure. Soon, we were looking for a place to live next year, discussing how to color-coordinate our bathroom and bedrooms, fighting over the room with the walk-in closet and discussing when we would adopt an Asian baby.
We watched Brothers and Sisters"" and ""Sex with Sue"" on Sunday nights and cried through both of them together. And while we had some rocky months that prompted me to change our relationship status to ""it's complicated"" on Facebook, I don't think I've ever felt so understood and loved by a man; a man who appreciates Anderson Cooper's sexy journalistic integrity and iceberg blue eyes more than I do.
But lately I've been seeing less and less of Dan. And it's not just because he's been getting skinnier as a direct result of me eating most of his food off his plate at dinner. And it's not because he's practicing his Tunisian with his hot tutor, the tall guy with unruly curly hair, who we both agreed had an incredible ass to match his incredible dimples on his incredible face.
It's because he's found somebody else - he's in love with a man.
And how can I compete with someone who has chiseled pecks, a butt chin and a hairy ass? Not to mention a PENIS!
I knew our Facebook love wasn't a long-term commitment, but somehow I thought I'd be the one who moved on first. I've never had a gay man leave me before.
But the thing is, Dan wouldn't break up with me. Sure, we went out less frequently. There were fewer dance parties, cuddle sessions and Perez Hilton gossiping. I've been picking out hand towels by myself. Despite the distance, Dan still texted me, made me feel special and told me I was beautiful, which is the main reason you befriend a gay man: They are a constant ego-boost and will always tell you if your clothes aren't flattering.
Later, when Dan introduced me to his secret lover, I wanted him to be happy. Sometimes when you love someone you have to learn to set him or her free. So I did it. And as of this Saturday, I was single on Facebook.
That's not to say I wasn't ready to go back on the prowl. That night, I went to a gay club. I chatted with Palo, the gay Mexican man who was wearing a Cher T-shirt and was in love with Justin Timberlake. I grinded with Alex, an out-of-work actor wearing a sparkling cowboy hat who had been an extra on ""Queer as Folk."" All of these guys were great and fabulously gay, but we just didn't click. They weren't real; they weren't genuine; they weren't Dan.
I knew I was in love with the idea of having a gay best friend; it made me feel fabulously glamorous. I knew I always had someone to go to the Gap with or take to a David Sedaris reading. But I think it wasn't until I lost Dan that I realized how much I liked him for being who he was - for his intellectual personality, his passion for traveling and learning new languages and his awesome collection of DVDs. I realized our friendship went deeper than a shared love of tight man ass, sushi and ""Brokeback Mountain.""
As I left the gayest club I had ever been to, my feet throbbing, my high-heeled shoes clutched in my hand, I realized Dan's shoes could never be filled by just any guy who comes prancing along. Even if he does have a pink faux hawk, impeccable taste in wine and a 20 percent employee discount at the Gap.
He, too, will have to be a great person, a world-renowned spooner and owner of a well-stocked DVD library that I can always cop from.
If you are a recently single gay man looking for someone to watch ""Hairspray"" with, e-mail aaspencer@wisc.edu.
