Sunday at the Met with Mr. R.

My friend R was visiting from LA this weekend. He just got a job in Europe and I'm not sure when we will see each other again. We came out at the same time in Belo Horizonte, were inseparable there. He eventually moved to NY and lived with me and X-G for a couple of years before love whisked him away to California. When I was in the hospital he would come, a week at a time, and keep my foot moisturized. I hated him for that.

He came Saturday for a birthday in LI and left Sunday night, which only left us with Sunday morning to hang out. He chose the Met. (I'm still on a very agreeable mood) I was there first, seating on the steps, when he arrived. Sobbing.

I am the person that brought him there the first time.

R loves art and, apparently, loves me too.

I know I love him.