Solar System of Relationships, Part II

Just beyond the orbit of my loving mother were the orbits of two childhood friends. Each of them had their own distinct personality, life experiences, and personal dynamics. To make things even more difficult, one of them is a conservative Republican.

I had to handle this delicately. The Africanized cogs in my head began to spin... whirring, buzzing, and clicking over possible scenarios. What really made the pace pick up was when I had met someone of romantic interest online, and I neglected to call my Republican friend during my usual times. In fact, a week or so had passed, which triggered the alarms. Oh great... there was no way of hiding this from my two bloodhound-like friends, especially the Republican.

It was just after 9/11 when time had run out. My conservative, heterosexual Republican friend sniffed out that something was up. After not hearing from me for a few days, he found me on Instant Messenger. *BLEEP* There was his conversation box, popped up on my screen with a vengeance. He typed with a purpose, skillfully slicing through the walls I had built to keep out marauders until my "coming out" plans were complete. He demanded to know why I hadn't talked to him in days, and he was true in saying that it wasn't like me.

"I've just been busy with work and stuff lately," I lied.
"You're always busy with something, but find time to chat, man." He replied.

It was clear that I wasn't shaking this driver off my tail, so I broke down and told him that I was talking to someone. I could almost hear him getting into a pair of boots with gargantuan spurs, preparing to drive them into my rib cage until I cracked. The longer this game of proverbial chess ensued, the faster I was running out of moves.

I went into calculation mode, trying to figure out how life would be without one of my best friends since our early days in Boy Scouts. Then, I took the plunge and told him the new person's name... Mitchel.

"No, I didn't mean to type Michelle. I typed Mitchel." I said, correcting his next sentence.

Then, there was the long silence... much like lining up before a firing squad. Maybe he logged off? I sat at the computer and chewed on my fingernail for a moment. I suddenly felt my chest getting heavy at the thought that I had just lost a friendship that took years to build. Just as I was about to get up from the computer, text started streaming in. It was his response.

In an enormous gesture of support, he responded by telling me something about him that no one else knew. It was a medical condition that required treatment, and I had no idea that he was going through such a tribulation. The comet of truth had struck the planet surface of our friendship, but it did not knock his orbit further away from me. Since then, he's moved into the realm of marriage, and I've moved into defense mode against a sagging economy -- working overtime like a dark fairy whore. We don't spend as much time together, much less chat a lot -- but our repor remains good.

Yet another unexpected reaction. Could life throw curve balls any harder?