‘Happy Birthday’ read the text from Phil. I was sitting at a stop light on my way to the doctor.

‘Thanks!’

‘See you tonight!’

‘Sounds great!’

I set my phone in the holder.

“Fuck!” I screamed as the seatbelt stopped me from hitting the steering wheel.

It took a moment for my mind to settle. I looked up and realized my little sub-compact was sitting in the middle of the intersection, my foot trying to push the brake pedal through the floor. I looked in the mirror to see one of those small SUVs sitting on my bumper. As my brain cleared, I grabbed my phone, registration, and got out of the car.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“Fuck, I’m gonna be late for fucking work!”

“Umm… okay. Do you have your insurance information?”

“I’m screwed. I’m gonna lose my job!”

“Look, grab your insurance information and such. I don’t wanna take a lot of time either.”

He walked back to his vehicle.

I grabbed my phone and took pictures of the accident, his plates and then a short video of the general scene.

“Here,” he said handing me his info.

I gave him mine and then took pictures of his. After finishing the exchange of the details, I looked at the damage to my car a bit closer. From what I could tell, it was mostly cosmetic. The bumper was a mess, and the rear panels were damaged. The trunk, at least, was staying closed. Drivable.

I did notice a lot of fluid coming from his SUV.

“You might want to check your radiator before you start driving. Looks like it’s leaking.”

“Fuck, I gotta get to work.”

Moments later, he pulled into the other lane and drove off. I got back in my car and started on my way. I looked at the clock and realized that the entire thing had taken less than ten minutes.

“Morning, Jane,” I greeted the receptionist.

“Morning, Mr. Bochanan.”

“Your copay will be twenty-five today.”

As I handed her my credit card, I said, “Here you go.”

“Need your receipt?”

“Yes, please. Need to send it to my FSA.”

“Claudia will get your vitals.”

As the nurse approached, I said, “Good morning, Claudia.”

“Morning, Mr. Bochanan.”

She pointed the scale, “height and weight first.”

“Tall and too heavy,” I admitted.

She got a chuckle out of that.

“Let’s see that’s six foot four and let’s call it a half, and two hundred and… forty-two… no forty-three. She looked at my file. You’re up two pounds since your last visit.”

She started down the hallway and indicated, “this way. You’re in room four today. I need to get your temperature, blood pressure, and heart rate.”

She took care of the vitals, all reasonably good, and left. About five minutes later, there was a quiet knock on the door and in came Dr. Melson.

“Morning, Coulter. How are you doing.”

“I’m a bit sore.”

“Problem?”

“Someone rear ended my car on the way in.”

“Well, we’ll do a full check of you before you leave.”

“Thanks.”

“Take your shirt off and hop up on the table.”

I did as he asked. He spent the next few minutes checking to make sure nothing was too damaged.

“You’re going to be sore for a few days and it looks like a little bit of bruising from the seat belt. I’ll give you a muscle relaxant to help. Take one a day as needed.”

“Sounds good. So, how were my test results?”

“Overall, they were okay.”

“I hear a but in there.”

“Yes. Your A1C was seven point two.”

“I take it that’s bad.”

“It means you’ve developed type-two diabetes. An A1C of five point seven is normal.”

“Crap.”

Dr. Melson went on to explain what was to come for me. Drugs to allow my body to process all the sugars without a fully functioning insulin system. The need to lose weight and become more active. Changes to delay or maybe prevent my need for insulin.

“If I lose weight and watch what I eat?”

“That can bring the numbers down. Delay things. Help you out a lot. Those who strive for perfection, on the other hand, rarely succeed in the long run. Shoot for eighty percent. It is more sustainable.”

“Got it.”

“Here’s a prescription for a class from the hospital on managing your life under type-two. Here’s a second for metformin, this will help your system manage the carbs in your life better.”

“Can we wait ninety days to see what I can do?”

“We can try if you like, but no more than ninety days.”

“Is it better not to wait?”

“From my perspective, yes. Metformin is highly tolerated, almost no known side effects and helps you keep your blood sugar down no mater what. The toughest part is making sure it doesn’t drive you sugar levels too low.”

We spoke a bit longer and worked out the last of the details. I’d been going to Dr. Melson for twelve years and he knew me well.

I sat in my car after the appointment and thought. I grabbed my phone.

“Morning, Sherry.”

“Morning, Coulter. What’s up?”

“I’m calling off for today. Someone ran into me on the way to the doctor. Then I found out I’m a diabetic. Just don’t think I’ll bring my A-game today.”

“That sucks. By the way, happy birthday. Well, enjoy your day off and I’ll see you Monday.”

“Thanks! Bye.”

I pulled into my space at the complex a short while later and headed to our unit. Maybe I could turn the day around with a little birthday sex!

I put my key in the door and turned as quietly as it would allow. I wanted to surprise James and get him into the mood. I went to put my keys in the basket by the door when I heard something.

“That’s it, baby, FUCK ME!” James shrieked. “Pound my hole!”

I couldn’t quite hear the response.

“Come on man, you need to fuck me hard! Open me up good! Show me you love me!”

I pulled my iPhone out of my back pocket, silenced it, and snuck to the bedroom door. There was James, on all fours, being fucked by a dude I did not recognize. I took a few quick pics, and a short video. With that, I got the fuck out of there. I sat in my car and cried for a few minutes.

Finally, I grabbed my phone.

“Operations Group, this is Phil. How may I help you?”

“Phil, it’s Coulter.”

“Happy Birthday, dude! I’m looking forward to the big party tonight.”

“Shit. Forgot about that. Look, no party. I found James’s cheating on me!” I sobbed.

“Crap. What? I mean… how… what the fuck?”

“So right after you sent your text, I got rear ended at a red light. After my doctor’s appointment, I went home instead of work. He was getting fucked on our bed by some dude. From what he was saying, this wasn’t the first time either.”

“Damn dude, that’s messed up.”

“I don’t know what to do.”

“Crash at my place for now. That’ll give you time to think. You can stay in the guest room.”

“Thanks, Phil.”

“Swing by my office and get the key.”

“I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

I headed towards his office. When I arrived, I sent ‘Out front’.

‘Down in a sec’

It was only a couple minutes before Phil wrapped me in a big hug.

“Sorry, all this is going on, on your birthday.”

“Yeah, happy birthday to me. Accident, diabetes, and divorce!”

“Here’s the key. Diabetes? Damn, sorry to hear that too. You head over to my place and relax. I’ll be home around five. Are you serious about divorce?”

“No way I’m sticking with him. He’s cheating on me! Said he loved him. I’d never trust him again.”

“I’ve got a friend that’s a divorce lawyer. Lemme give him a call.”

When I got to Phil’s, I found that he’d sent me a text with a name, number and said to give him a call. I did and he was available at three.

“You’ve got a pretty air-tight case for a divorce,” the attorney said. “There’s only one problem. You can’t get divorced in Virginia.”

“Wouldn’t I just go to Maryland?”

“You can get married wherever you want. You get divorced where you live and since same-sex marriage isn’t legal in Virginia you can’t get a divorce.”

“So, what do I do?”

“Virginia and the Federal government do not consider you married. Therefore, you just separate and deal with the disentanglement of your life.”

“Fuck. Sorry. I shouldn’t cuss.”

“You’re upset and trust me I hear it all the time.”

“Then I don’t have to worry about telling him anything I want.”

“My professional advice, be civil. It will make the breakup easier than if you start things nasty.”

We talked a bit more and he helped me craft a text message.

‘Came home and found you having sex. Will not return tonight. We will have to figure out how to end things easily.’

Almost instantly, I received back, ‘Will cancel the party’ and ‘Need to talk.’

The attorney and I finished up, and I went back to Phil’s. Phil got home a few minutes after I got back, and our buddy Darryl showed up about six.

“Let’s go grab some dinner,” Phil said.

“I’d rather stay in,” I admitted. “I don’t think I can handle crowds. How about Chinese delivery, Pizza delivery...”

“Sure!” Phil said.

We got the order placed and waited in Phil’s living room. We’d been sitting there a moment when I heard Phil’s phone buzz.

“Have you looked at your phone?” Phil asked.

“No, it’s in the bedroom on mute.”

“Well, I’ve gotten a few texts asking WTF. I’m sure yours is blowing up,” Phil said.

“I’ll deal with it tomorrow. Like I said, I can’t handle crowds and I don’t think I can deal with folks tonight.”

“How would you like me to respond?” Phil asked.

“Tell them my now ex-husband is cheating on me,” I said with a venom-laced tone. “I don’t give a fuck if it soils his reputation. I have proof!”

“How can we help?” Darryl asked.

“Just listen. I’m gonna need to vent for a while. If I ask for help or suggestions, feel free. Otherwise, just listen. Please!”

“Deal,” he responded. “I doubt I’d have too many ideas having never been in a long-term relationship, let alone having to deal with a cheater and a breakup.”

“Have you thought at all about what’s next?” Phil asked.

“Definitely… you know me all type-A. Find a place to live, get through the split, lose weight…”

“Huh?” Darryl grunted.

“Oh, you missed that part. The doctor told me I’ve got fuckin’ type-two diabetes…. but if I lose weight, I can get it under control. I’ve got to get the car fixed, probably sell it soon.”

“That’s a lot of change,” Darryl said.

“That’s just the start dude. I get to reboot my life… to correct the mistakes I made… to stop worrying about what James thinks… hell, this is gonna be epic!”

We kept talking well into the night.

*******

The next morning, I woke at my usual six a.m. and quietly padded into the kitchen. I made a cup of coffee and went back to the guest room. I sat on the bed in my boxers, one of Phil’s t-shirts and started going through the apartment ads.

About eight, I heard Phil stirring. He walked by and then came back with a cup of coffee in his hand.

“Morning, how’d ya sleep?”

“Surprisingly well considering my f’d up birthday. Guess I’m used to them being fucked.

“Huh?”

“I’ve had a few shitty birthdays. Did you know my father died while I was still in high school?”

“I remember you telling me that. Tractor flipped over on him.”

“We buried him the day after my birthday.”

“Damn.”

“Mom died of cancer when I was twenty-six. Buried her two days before my birthday. This time, we just hit the bullseye.”

“I’m sorry birthdays haven’t been so pleasant for you. We’ll have to change that. So, what’s the game plan?”

“One, find a place to live. Two, figure out when I can get into our place and pack. Finally, figure out how fast I can move. Oh, and buy a little clothing until I can get in and pack.”

“You’re welcome here as long as needed.”

“Thanks, but I need to get this moving. I can’t sit around and mope. Plus, I don’t want to inconvenience you too long.”

“Hungry?”

“Yeah, wanna hit the diner?”

“Nah, I’ll grab some stuff and make breakfast. You know, be a good host.”

“Thanks. I’m gonna grab a quick shower.”

Phil headed towards the kitchen, and I went into the hall bath. A short while later, I was sitting with Phil eating bacon and eggs.

After breakfast, I went apartment shopping. I found an older building that had a small efficiency not too far from my office. The key factors were low cost, clean, and a walkable commute. I signed the lease, paid the deposit and was given the keys.

I went to the grocery store and got some basics to stock the kitchen. Scrubbing the kitchen and bathroom were my first tasks at the new place. Once things were clean, I put all food away. I swung by Target on my way back to Phil’s place and got some sweats, t-shirts, and a sweatshirt.

“Have you looked at your phone?” Phil asked.

“Yup. It’s been blowing up all day. I’ve been copy and pasting the same answer to pretty much everyone.”

“What about James?”

“He’s on full ignore. I haven’t blocked him, but I muted the conversation. I just can’t deal with that little rat-bastard.”

“He’s sent me a lot of messages,” Phil explained. “How should I respond.”

“Other than telling him I will talk, communicate, or otherwise admit he exists; you can tell him anything you want.”

“I’ll tell him to piss-off. No one does this to my friend!”

“Works for me.”

Sunday, I thought about what I’d take from our place to move to my new place. Monday, I called off from work, waited till I knew James would be at work, and went over with boxes.

I packed my all clothing and toiletries I packed some linens, enough to start but not enough to empty. I took that all over to my new place then ran over to Home Depot and rented one of their trucks. I called Darryl and he met me at the condo. He helped me load the bed from the guest room, a chair, a lamp, etc. We unloaded, returned the truck, and then got back to the efficiency to get things set up.

I wrote a message to James telling him that I’d pay my share of the mortgage but wanted the condo on the market fast. He could email as needed.

Phil came over, we ordered dinner and caught up on the day. My email beeped, and I saw that James had sent a message saying that he’d talk to me at work the next day.

“Fuck, you really shouldn’t date, marry, nothing with someone you work with,” I said.

“You gonna talk to him tomorrow?” Phil asked.

“What the fuck am I supposed to do? I guess there isn’t really a way to avoid him if he wants to talk. I’m not going to seek him out, at least we’re on different floors.”

We sat around till about nine when Darryl and Phil both said they had to go home.

My first morning in the new place was a bit hectic as I tried to find things and get out the door for work on time. When I got to the office, I dove into my work headfirst, trying to figure out what I’d missed after two days out of the office.

I had just logged off the WebEx for our morning scrum when I heard James’ voice. I looked up and saw him at the opening of my cubicle.

“Morning,” he said. “Can we go somewhere and talk?”

“I’d rather not.”

“Coulter, we’re married…”

I put my hand up. “You ended that. My attorney told me we can’t get divorced, but in essence, that’s where I am. I’ll be short and sweet. As I’m sure you’re aware, I pulled all my stuff out of the condo yesterday. Anything left is yours. You can buy me out at a fair market price, or we need to get it on the market by the end of the month. One way or the other, I’m not paying rent and a mortgage long. As far as work, we always said that being in different departments on different projects made things easier because we didn’t interact at work that much. Let’s keep it that way.”

“Coulter, I want to…”

I cut him off, my volume raising ever so slightly, “Listen, James, I’m done. We can do this civilly and quietly or we can do this ugly and loud… your choice. If you want quiet and civil, you need to give me space while we go through this. Email me and leave me in peace.”

“But I want to…”

“James, don’t you get it?” My tone was sharp, and the volume was up, considerably. “What you want, where it involves me, is nothing. There is no us.”

“I really am sorry.”

“Understood.”

“Still, I would like to talk.”

“Maybe, maybe in a few weeks, but right now I’m holding back a lot of hate, a lot of anger, a lot of redneck pissed off. So, if you don’t mind, I’d like to get back to work.”

“Okay,” he said quietly. Fortunately, he turned and walked off.

I sat there, desperately trying to regain my composure.

“You free for a moment?” I heard my boss’s voice from my cubicle entrance.

I turned to face her. I’m sure my face showed I’d been crying.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“No, but I will be.”

“Whatever it is, if you need to talk, let me know.”

I kept my voice at a low volume, “I’d rather this not get around, but James and I are done.”

“He’s leaving you?” The surprise in her voice was obvious. At least her voice wasn’t loud.

“We can’t get a divorce, it’s not possible in Virginia. We were married in Maryland. But in essence, I left him over the weekend.”

“Oh! Well, if you need to talk, I’m available. I can forward you the information on the employee assistance program. They offer counseling and such.”

“Thanks. You wanted something?”

“Well, I was going to see if you were free to discuss the latest GUI design enhancements.”

“Sure! That will be just the distraction I need.”

She smiled at me and led me back to her cubicle. As a senior manager, her cubicle was a larger space with both a desk and a small table for meetings. We discussed the latest user stories that were being prioritized and how we could modify the GUI design to provide the new functionality without compromising our overall design aesthetic.

After our meeting, I went back to my desk and checked email. There were several work-related messages and one from James. I responded to the work messages and ignored James. I grabbed my coat and went to grab lunch.

After lunch, I decided to read James’ message. It was, as I expected, a rambling apology mixed with not-so-subtle hints that my decision to end things was premature.

I’d just deleted the message, when I heard a familiar voice behind me, “Got a minute?”

“Hey, Justin. What’s up?”

“James stopped by my office and asked me to talk to you. I told him I wasn’t going to get in the middle of whatever is going on, but I did want to stop by and see if you needed to talk.”

“He tell you what happened?”

“He said, you’re leaving him. So, I’m guessing he really fucked up.”

I started laughing and Justin just stared at me like I was mad. Finally, I calmed down enough to respond. “Well, you could say he really got fucked!”

“He’s been cheating on you?”

“Yup, I walked in on it the morning of my birthday.”

“Oh, darn. Man, I’m sorry to hear that. What’s your plan?”

“I got a new place on Saturday. I grabbed all my stuff and finished moving into it yesterday. We can’t get divorced, but that’s where my mind is.”

“You are moving fast.”

“What would you do?”

“Same things and probably at the same pace.”

We talked a bit longer, and Justin offered to help in any way he could. He headed back to his office, and I got back to work.

*******

James left me alone the rest of the week. It was weird walking back to the little apartment instead of taking the subway. The cold of February didn’t help. I did find that I could use the time to really clear my mind.

On Friday night, I picked up some Chinese food on the walk home. With food in front of me, I started trying to take stock of my life. I followed my inner type-A and I planned and planned some more. With our separation underway the next priority was to get my body in order – lose the weight, get my A1C under control and be healthier. I decided to find a trainer, a nutritionist and improve my health.

I needed to find a new life balance. I’d made a lot of changes to make James happy. You know, conforming to make the relationship work. Those were going out the window, fast! Finally, I decided I needed a new job so I wouldn’t see James every day.

Saturday, I found a small, local gym that seemed to have a good staff. I met with one of their trainers, and she helped me plan a workout routine that would let me meet my goals. What I liked about Julie, she promised to push me, but she didn’t believe in pain. She wanted me to enjoy my workouts and come back day-after-day. She also referred me to their dietician as part of an overall regimen. Like Julie, Carter wasn’t about gimmicks or setting up an eating plan that I couldn’t or, more importantly, wouldn’t follow. He cared about what I liked and didn’t like, crafting a lifestyle change for me.

Sunday, I updated my résumé and put myself out there in the job market. It didn’t take long for my résumé to get some bites. I interviewed with one of the competitors to my company and found it a wakeup call. I wanted to be happy where I worked, enjoying what I did and making a difference. Like my current company, this interview was about being a cog in the machine.

After that, I focused on applying to smaller IT shops, specifically places that had good reviews on job sites. I found this one small, relatively new, IT firm with a promising product. They wanted a little more experience on their software design team. I went through three grueling interviews, and at the end of the third, they made an offer on the spot.

“Take a few days and really review the offer,” the HR person said as she handed me the packet. “We really like you and want to make sure you’ve thought it through. A happy and engaged employee makes all the difference to us.”

“Thank you. I am excited and will review it carefully. I find that I do want to be happy and positive about work!”

I took the package home and went through it in detail. I got to the last page of the package and found a surprise… stock options. I would get options every thirty days I stayed with the company. When, not if, it went public I could buy at a cheap price and either keep them or sell for a profit.

I called Darryl and Phil and invited them to meet me for dinner so we could talk.

“Pay raise?” Darryl said.

“Yeah, but not much. I’d call it a lateral.”

“Benefits?” Phil asked.

“I’d call them industry average. They’re reasonable, not super, but reasonable. They offer some stuff I don’t get now, but then again, other things aren’t quite as good.”

“So, a small raise and a benefits toss-up,” Darryl said.

“The benefits are cheaper, so I’ll take home a little more. They do have a great 401K match. Finally, I get stock options.”

“Can’t spend options…” Phil nudged.

“They are confident that they’ll go public successfully. They do have a great product.”

“Office atmosphere?” Darryl asked.

“Great ratings on Glassdoor. The third interview was with staff – no managers. They seemed excited, happy, relaxed, and painted a great picture.”

“Of course, they put their happiest people in the room with you. In the end, it’s up to you, but I’d take it if I were in your place,” Darryl said.

“Agreed,” Phil said.

We had a great dinner and really discussed my transitions. I called and accepted the offer the next day. With everything signed, I handed my letter of resignation to my boss. She was disappointed, but not surprised.

The news got around the office quickly.

“Running away?” Justin asked.

“Yes and no.”

He just looked at me, waiting for more explanation.

“Yes, I want to get away from James. He may work in a different department on a different floor…”

“But you run into him a bit too much, I’d imagine.”

“Exactly, and it’s not comfortable. Plus, there’s a lot of talk around the office. I’m not comfortable being the subject of office gossip.”

“Understood. It was the ‘no’ I wanted explained.

“I don’t feel like I’m running away. I found a great opportunity where I’ll be part of a small, vibrant organization, not a small bit player in a huge operation. I’ll get to do more than GUI design and coding.”

For a bit longer, Justin stood and talked with me about the opportunity.

“You’ll be missed,” he admitted. “Your code is always clean. The testers are gonna be sad to see you go. I’ll be sad to see you go, too.”

“Thanks!”

“Do keep in touch!”

“I will.”

*******

Three months after that fateful day, I was over at Phil’s for dinner.

“So, I saw my doctor this morning,” I explained. “My A1C has gone from 7.2 to 6.2, which is close to normal. I’ve lost 37 pounds and over six inches off my waist. My doctor was stunned.”

“You’re looking good, man,” Phil said.

“Congrats, man!” Darryl enthused as we sat at the table.

“My doctor was amazed at how much I’d done. I told him it was my type-A attitude on steroids. Between eating better, exercise, and less stress at work, I feel great!”

“Heard anything from James?”

“Not really.”

“No email, no calls, nothing?” Darryl asked.

“A few texts, a few emails, a couple voicemails… I’m polite, but I only deal with the separation stuff. He sent me one about the condo and added all sorts of crap about talking. I just ignored it. I think he got the point not to try for more.”

“How’s the condo sale going?” Darryl asked.

“Slow. He finally got his shit together, admitted he couldn’t buy me out, and packed up his crap. I went over one day, cleaned the place, and used the furniture that was left to stage the place. The agent met me and took pictures. It’s on the market.”

“Profit?” Phil asked.

“Some. Condos don’t make huge gains unless the market is hot. Truth-be-told, I just don’t want to lose my shirt on it. It’s really about getting my investment out of it, I made the down payment, I got us started, I paid most of the mortgage at first, and I have the documentation.”

“Thinking about what’s next?” Phil asked.

“Honestly, I’ve made so many changes I’m trying to let things catch up. Once I have all the first changes settled, I’ll work on the next set. A big one is, I want to go out more.”

“Nothing is holding you back,” Darryl said.

“Well, I don’t want to run into James.”

“Change places,” Phil suggested.

“Hmmm…”

“You two always hit the same clubs, didn’t you?” Phil asked.

“Yeah.”

“What about that one over by your old office. No dancing, but they have things like karaoke,” Phil suggested.

“James hates karaoke,” I admitted.

Darryl pulled out his phone. “The next one is Thursday night.”

“Great. Let’s do it!”

“Deal,” they both agreed.

*******

 The following Thursday, I met Darryl, Phil, and another friend, Stephen, at the club at seven-thirty. We arrived about thirty minutes before the event started. As we got settled, I noticed a queue of guys at a table and realized that this was where you picked your song and signed up. I walked over, looked at the selection of music, and signed up for a slot.

It was an hour into the program, when the MC announced, “We have a newbie tonight. Come on up, Coulter, show us what you got!”

I walked up, the music started. I looked once at the little screen at the foot of the stage showing the lyrics. I knew this song and knew just how I wanted to hit it.

“Na na na na…” I sang, my bass an octave below where Alexis Jordan’s voice would be. “Boy, I know you heard around town, that your guy got fine and that hurts ya…” I changed the lyrics to fit my gender and continued throughout. As I finished How Do You Like Me Now, I got a big round of applause.

“Coulter, we’re glad you showed up,” the MC said. “I think the audience agrees; we like you now, a lot!”

I smiled, walked off stage and to the table with the gang.

“Holy shit,” Darryl said. “Who knew you had a voice.”

“My mom, actually... she was a choir director, music teacher, and piano teacher. She started me singing when I was five.”

“It shows!”

“It’s a shame James wasn’t here to hear you,” Phil interjected. “That song was fuckin’ appropriate for all the changes you’ve made.”

“There will be more!” I acknowledged.

*******

The following Thursday, I queued up to pick a song.

“Got any country music?” I asked the guy at the table.

“Umm… I’m just the fill-in for tonight. You’ll need to ask George. He’s the regular and would know how to get other songs.”

“Okay, thanks.”

With no country option, I chose Forgive by Reina, which really fit my mood.

*******

“I am looking for George,” I said to the drag queen in the booth the next week.

“That’s me, Hon. I’m Georgia Knights,” she explained.

“The guy last week told me to ask you about country music. With the first name Georgia, you should have some around.”

“I can add it to the system; but we get so few requests for it that I usually only add the specific song. What were you thinking?”

“I’d like Giddy On Up, by Laura Bell Bundy.”

“Ooooh… airing out some details?”

“I walked in on my husband having sex with someone else. I’m working on closure.”

“Closure it is,” Georgia said. “I’m looking forward to this.”

Georgia called me to the little stage about halfway through the evening. The music got going and I started singing. When I got to the line ‘Oh I ain't finished. Sit back down.’ there were a lot of hoots and catcalls around the room.

I got a good round of applause when I was done.

*******

It was about three weeks after that when Phil asked me about my mood.

“Look, I know what James did was rough, but the songs you’re picking…”

“The songs I’m picking fit the transition I’m undergoing. In some little way, they’re part of my therapy. I mean, Forgive, Stronger, Don’t Hold Your Breath, Turn on the Radio, they all fit this part of my life. But it will change!”

“Is this your regular play list?”

“Not always, but when I’m in that funk, you bet! I do have a lot of fun play lists too.”

“You’ve been hitting a lot of country music, and what’s with this facial hair?” He reached over and rubbed my trimmed goatee.

“I don’t have to suppress! Fuck, for ten years, I did things to keep the peace at home. Buying that stupid econo-box instead of a truck; no facial hair, ‘cause it makes me look too much like a redneck; don’t wear flannel and work on my southern drawl; don’t listen to that music. You know, I didn’t realize how much of myself I changed, that I suppressed, to make that asshole happy.”

He nodded. I guess my answers made complete sense.

*******

For my thirty-eighth birthday, my buddies, most of whom James had invited a year earlier, threw me a hell of a nice birthday bash. My friends kept commenting on the year’s transformation from pudgy and dowdy, to fit with a new style.

About an hour into the party, Phil and Darryl came up to me.

“Your guns are something else,” Phil said.

“I don’t own…” is as far as I got before they looked at me oddly. “Oh, shit, you mean my arms.”

“Yeah! You’ve got muscles!” Darryl said. “Flex!”

I showed my muscles to them.

“And what’s that peeking out from under the sleeve?”

“That is my tattoo.”

“When’d you get that?” Darryl asked.

“The last session was about three weeks ago.”

“What is it?” Phil asked.

“It’s a dragon,” I said. “I had this Henley t-shirt when I was in high school that had this cool Chinese dragon on the shoulder. I always wanted it as a tattoo, so as my body got better, I got it.”

“Can we see?” Darryl asked.

I pulled off my polo shirt, letting them see the tattoo that went from back to chest, and down my arm.

“Man, have you gotten developed,” Phil said.

“Four to five days a week of exercise and eating right; it all helps.”

“So, what’s next?” Darryl asked.

“What?” I said as I put my back shirt on.

“You’ve changed so much of your life in twelve months. You attacked it, you owned it, you won! What’s next?”

“First, I want a house. I’m sick of living in a little, dumpy box of an apartment. It was necessary for the last year while I untangled myself from Slut…”

Phil burst into laughter, causing a few of the guys near us to turn and look.

“Sorry guys, Coulter was explaining to us what’s next in his life, saying that he’s pretty much untangled from Slut, not James, not ‘the slut,’ but just naming him Slut; I just had to laugh.”

With this the guys gathered around to hear the future.

“As I was saying, I want a home. The stupid little efficiency I’m in, it’s a bed, a place to cook and that’s it.”

“What do you want in a place?” my friend Chris asked. He was always looking for his next real estate customer.

“Hell, the first thing I want is space. I’m sick of being nose to-nose with my neighbors.”

“Gonna cost you, buddy!”

“Between what’s left of my inheritance, and my part of the condo sale, my savings, I’ve got some.”

“What else,” one of my other friends asked.

“I’m not sure,” I paused for a moment. “Yes, I am. I don’t want cookie-cutter. I don’t want that stupid suburban box they throw up all over the place. I want a nice mid-century ranch-style; one level, great space, and most importantly, a bit of land.”

“Not a lot of those around here,” Chris said. “But we can search.”

“So, beyond the house,” Phil prodded.

“I want to keep working on my body. I’m not trying to become a bodybuilder; but I like the way I’m looking, and I want to keep improving.”

“Six-pack?” Stephen asked.

"Call it a four-pack," I said, lifting my shirt to show off the definition I'd achieved thus far.

“Sweet.”

“But, hey, maybe I’ll get a six pack someday.”

“Show them the tattoo,” Phil said.

I pulled the shirt back off and let everyone look. I got a lot of comments on how it looked and how my body had developed.

“What else,” one friend asked.

I thought for a moment. “I guess it’s time to date again. But guys, no set ups, please! Just let me figure out what I want. I’m still gun shy and confused; so, first I have to figure out who I want to date.”

“Deal,” they all said.

I got the impression they wanted to stay way out of my love life at this point. To be honest, I’d been with James for ten years and really hadn’t explored my sexuality much before I’d met him. College, more college, family issues, a few dates, then wham a relationship.

The conversation moved on to other topics; and things went back to party-mode.

*******

In college, I had a Myers-Briggs test performed and found that I was on the border between extrovert and introvert. It isn’t that I can’t meet folks, talk with them, socialize; it’s more that I split between needing my alone time to recharge my batteries and my crowd time to energize me. Dinners out, parties and gatherings had been important over the last twelve months; but I did have to escape on my own from time to time.

Two weekends after my birthday party, a late-February Saturday turned out to be unseasonably warm and sunny. I opted for some alone time, choosing to get out of my little apartment and explore. I drove west, going outside the Beltway for pretty much the first time since I’d graduated, wanting to check out all the changes near my alma mater. After exploring downtown Fairfax, I decided to check out the campus.

Mason had been young and growing when I attended and in the over fifteen years since I’d left; the student body population had grown to make it one of the largest in the state. To accommodate this, the campus had exploded.

Finding a visitor’s lot, I started walking through the campus. I was looking at all the changes, the new buildings, new facilities, and, of course, all the young men. It was funny, in my twenties, I’d always dated guys older than me. Some of my buddies said I had a thing for ‘daddies’ and to be honest, I did; James being one example.

Now, I was looking at all these younger guys, and some were getting my dick going. It had been over a year since I’d had sex, and this smorgasbord of men had me horned. I finally went into one of the buildings, found a stall on a quiet floor, and I’ll admit it, stroked off.

Having finished my campus tour, I hopped back into my car and headed into the surrounding area to explore. Just off the campus, I noticed a for sale sign pointing into this quiet looking neighborhood. I turned and followed the signs. It was quickly apparent that this wasn’t one of those modern cookie-cutter communities with three or four models repeated over and over. In fact, I didn’t see two houses that looked alike, colonials, ranches, Cape Cods, and other styles painted a picture of a community that evolved over time. Each house was on a generous lot and well maintained. The signs led me to the back of the community and then down one of the last side-streets. Finally, I found myself at the end of a cul-de-sac sitting in front of this mid-century ranch that looked bedraggled and in need of attention.

I got out, decided that the house was empty, and walked around. There had been no maintenance in a long time, possibly years, with what looked like a number of 1980’s renovations that took a lot of the original character out of the house and added to the bedraggled look.

“Fuck,” I muttered to myself. “This musta been something else in its day.”

The front windows were too high to see in. I looked through the narrow sidelights and got a glimpse of the interior. Heading around the back, I found a walk out basement. I looked through the two windows, finding each room empty and from what I could see dated and worn.

Moving on, I tried to explore the property. I walked around the yard, wondering just how much land came with it. There were woods on three sides, and I couldn’t see any of the houses I’d passed. Hell, I couldn’t see anything behind it, beyond it, anywhere... isolated.

I walked back to the truck, grabbed my iPhone, and called Chris.

“Chris, I stumbled upon this amazing house. It looks neglected and worn, but I think the bones look okay. The yard is the same way, lots of space and woods. It’ll take a lot of work to clean it up. Can you pull it up?”

“Sure, what’s the address?” he asked.

He quickly pulled up the details.

“It’s a nineteen-fifty-five mid-century modern ranch, about twenty-four hundred square feet above grade, with a walk-out lower level that adds more square footage. It sits on nearly two and a half acres.” He went on to give me all the details. “It’s been on the market for over a year.”

“Damn, from the condition, I can see why folks pass it up. Everyone wants a move-in ready these days. You know the HGTV effect – flipped, staged, and packaged,” I said. “But then, you get what the flipper put in, not what you want.”

“Too true, I see that every day,” he replied. “The price on this is too high for a flipper to make a profit. Do you want to see inside?”

“YES!”

“Well, I’m free right now. It’ll take me at least thirty minutes to get to you.”

“Sounds good, see you soon!”

We disconnected, and I sat in my car waiting. Being too keyed up, I climbed out and started walking up the street. I’d reached the yard of the next house and was about to turn around and head back when I heard a voice.

“Can I help you?” I looked and saw an older woman coming around the back corner of the house.

“I apologize for intruding. I’m looking at the house down the street and trying to figure out where the property line ends.”

“Oh, the Grey’s house, how nice,” she said. “They were such nice neighbors. The little creek you crossed is the dividing line. The area on either side of the creek is a county resource protection area, so you can’t cut the trees or do anything to the area.”

“It does give a lot of privacy!”

She went on to explain that the couple had built the house, raised their family, empty-nested and eventually died while living there. The kids had been trying to settle the estate, so the house had been sitting empty for several years.

I was still standing there talking with her about the property and the community when Chris, and his partner, Stephen, pulled up in his Audi. I told her thanks and climbed into the backseat.

“You’re gonna be a long way from all the boys,” Stephen said.

I had to chuckle at that, thinking about walking the campus.

The three of us went to the front door, Chris used that little box to get the key, and then we toured the house. It was an incredible place: well built, with large rooms, and a nice layout. I was falling in love.

“The neighbor explained that the property is up against a county protection area involving a creek, so I’d never have any other neighbors closer than her.”

“Nice! The price seems a little steep for the condition,” Stephen put in.

“Well, it’s been on the market for a year. I can run some comparables and see what they show. On the plus side, it comes with a big lot, good bones, and no neighbors,” Chris explained.

“True, true, I would want an inspection.”

“Definitely. Look, why don’t you go home, I’ll do the legwork on this. I’ll call you tomorrow morning. You need to sleep on it at a minimum,” Chris warned. “I don’t want you buying the wrong thing.”

“Fair enough,” I admitted. “But I’m too keyed up to go home. How about I spring for dinner?”

“Deal,” Stephen said.

They followed me to a restaurant closer to the city and we had a nice dinner.

The next morning, I was drinking my coffee when the phone rang.

“Morning, Chris. How goes?

“Excellent, I’ve got the numbers for you.”

“Why don’t you two meet me at the diner for brunch.”

“Deal. See you soon.”

We met. Chris went over the numbers and helped me build a solid offer. I couldn’t lowball and risk offending the family, but I needed room to restore and update. Chris quickly finished up the offer letter, had me sign it and submitted it. We heard back quickly that the family accepted, and closing was scheduled for thirty days out.

*******

Before the closing, I started interviewing contractors, eventually selecting one. After the closing, the contractor went into high gear, restoring the mid-century look to the outside, updating the kitchen, refinishing the floors throughout, painting the master bedroom, and redoing the master bath.

Thirty days after he started, I was able to move in. There was more work to be done, but the house was livable. There had been unexpected costs, like having to replace the HVAC system, the electrical panel, and a few other items. I hadn’t accumulated that much stuff while living in my little apartment, so moving was easy. One small truck, Darryl, Phil, Chris, and Stephen, and I bought the pizza and beer.

I said “good morning” to the construction foreman as I walked into the kitchen. I’d at least thought to put on pajama bottoms and a t-shirt instead of walking out naked.

“Morning,” he said. “I’d forgotten you were going to move in over the weekend. I hope we didn’t wake you up, coming in.”

“I was up and trying to finish organizing my boxes in my bedroom. Everything’s here, but I don’t know where everything is, and I really don’t have much furniture.”

“Do I need to put a lock on your bedroom door?”

“Not necessary. I have an old locking file cabinet with any important papers and a fireproof safe, both in the bedroom closet. The safe has any valuables in it.”

“Sounds good,” he commented.

“Coffee?” I asked.

“I’ve got a thermos full, thanks!”

“Just remind your team that the master bathroom is in use in the morning,” I joked.

“I’m going to make your bedroom and bath off limits. We’ll use the hall bath or the little one downstairs.”

“Sounds good,” I replied. I filled my mug with coffee. “Well, I should go get my shower, get dressed, and head out.”

“Okay.” With that, he headed off to get his team started.

I got a shower, got dressed and packed my messenger bag to go.

“See you tomorrow,” I said as I left.

“Bye,” the foreman called out.

I drove over to the Burke Center VRE station. I figured out how to buy a ticket for the day and waited for the train. I was used to METRO, where trains come every few minutes, but with VRE the schedule was more spaced out. What I wasn’t prepared for was the precision with which folks arrived at the station. I got there about twenty minutes before the train and found the platform nearly deserted. With five minutes to go, the platform was pleasantly crowded. I figured that I’d get more accurate on arrival as time went by.

The train pulled up, the doors opened, and people surged in. I followed the folks in front of me and found a seat.

“Ticket?” a conductor asked me.

“Oh, sorry,” I said. I pulled it out of my wallet and showed it.

He moved on.

“New on the train?” the lady sitting next to me asked.

“Yes, my first trip,” I admitted.

“Most folks keep their monthly passes or tickets in with their badges on their lanyards,” she said.

“I will have to think about how to do that,” I said. “We don’t have badges or things like that at my office.”

“Small place?”

“Yes.”

“What’s got you on the train?”

“I just moved out to Fairfax from Arlington.”

“Ah, new commuter. I call this the civilized way to travel,” she laughed.

“The seats are very nice,” I agreed.

“Did you notice the bathrooms?” she asked.

“No.”

She pointed to the other end of the car, where a sign indicated a bathroom.

“There’s a quiet car up front,” she explained. “You can also bring food and drink on the train.”

“That is quite the change from METRO.”

“Yes,” she agreed. “No more cattle-car squeeze. Are you going all the way to Union Station?”

“No, just to King Street.”

“When the train goes through the tunnel, you should get your things ready and head to the door. You want to make it off before folks try to get on,” she explained.

“Thanks for being so helpful,” I replied.

“It’s always good to help the newbies learn the ropes,” she said. “It makes life on the train better for everyone.”

By the time I got off the train at King Street, I felt like I understood how the VRE system worked. The walk from the VRE station was about one block longer than when I was taking METRO, but I felt more relaxed than my prior commutes with transfers and crowds.

That night, when I got home from work, I discovered one thing; I didn’t like living in a construction zone. Other than my bedroom, the house was a work site, and chaos ruled. The kitchen, which I’d spent a lot of time cleaning, was now covered with a fine layer of dust. Since there was no door, I’d have to figure out a solution.

As I sat down to a small dinner, I started searching the Home Depot and Lowes sites. What I found was a system that took two sheets of plastic and provided a zipper to allow for it to be opened and closed. The next day, I ran out to Home Depot after work and bought one, figuring the contractor could put it up.

There were other struggles, but by early June the crew had finished everything I planned.

*******

With construction done, I decided to have a housewarming party. The master bedroom and the den were the only spaces with furniture, so I borrowed some folding tables from work. I mowed the yard, but honestly, it needed a lot more work. I felt that, overall, the old girl was looking much better.

My friends came over for an early Saturday afternoon party; food from a local gourmet market, some tunes playing, and a lot of conversation. I hadn’t seen a lot of the guys during the previous three months, so I spent a lot of time catching up on events, explaining the remodel, and more.

“Guys, how about one big tour instead of me doing it over and over again?”

That got a lot of chuckles.

“First, I tried to make this more of a restoration than a renovation. It’s a fifties, mid-century modern ranch. I didn’t take down walls trying to make it some trendy thing it’s not. As for an open concept kitchen, I don’t wanna entertain in there. That’s where the help should be!”

That got me a lot of laughs.

“Honestly, that’s why I had the food catered for today. I’m no Julia Child. I’ll cook for myself. I’ll cook for a dinner. I’m not entertaining behind a stove. I just updated it to make it modern and functional,” I explained.

Everyone took a turn looking, then I led on.

“You’ve already seen the den and dining room; this room is going to be the living room.” I kept up the tour, explaining the rooms upstairs and answering a few questions. With no furniture in the spare bedrooms, there wasn’t a lot to see. “All the floors on the main level were refinished, and the original tile was professionally cleaned. Ready to go downstairs?”

“I don’t have a lot of plans for down here yet. I want a workout space, but don’t know what to do with the rest. This floor is divided into two rooms, one much larger than the other, plus an area for storage and the house mechanicals. It’s not as deep as upstairs, so there’s about eighteen hundred square feet. One space is nearly eight hundred, one is over six hundred, and the mechanicals and storage is over four hundred.”

“Holy shit!” Darryl exclaimed. “You could have a lot of guys working out down here.”

“Well, it’s just gonna be me. I can’t afford equipment for a lot of guys; but yeah, it’s a big space. I just couldn’t think of anything else to do with it. I’m going to use the bigger room for workouts, and the smaller one will just stay empty, I guess.”

“This would make a hell of a man cave, or better yet, a playroom!” one of the guys called out.

That got some laughs.

“If I want something else later, I’ll use it. For now, I’ve got all the space upstairs I need to live.”

“Look at the yard,” someone said.

“Yeah, there’s nothing back there. My property goes into the woods a bit, like hundreds of feet. Then it’s all undeveloped space behind that and not space that can be developed because of the creek.”

“No wonder you don’t have any curtains up,” Stephen said.

“The front windows are high, so I get privacy without sacrificing light; but with no one back here, no curtains needed.”

I opened the sliding doors and led everyone outside. The yard was in rough shape, the years without maintenance showed. Once the tour was done, my buddies all made roughly the same set of comments; love the house, too much yard, too far out.

We were back upstairs, eating, drinking, and carrying on when Darryl cornered me. “You so need to get laid.”

“What?”

“Look, I can see it. When was the last time you had sex? Before you moved out here? Before you bought this place, last year? Before Slut cut your balls off?”

I just laughed at him, trying to think of how to brush this off. “It’s been a while, but I’m good. Trust me, I’m good. Slut didn’t cut my balls off; the whole thing just made me a little gun shy.”