my boyfriend's boyfriend

vermont diner
Originally uploaded by kristalynn.

my boyfriend's hot.

no, it's not a good thing. it means i have to deal with omnipresent women giving me the once-over ("hmph", they think). i have to endure eyelash-batting girls who twirl locks of hair and sidle up to him. i have to tolerate the laugh/head toss.

i've had to meet a pageant of ex-girlfriends. each one more displeased with me than the last. a succession of models and actresses who opportunely require my boyfriend to "run lines with" or provide "accent coaching".


"do you remember tintoretto? (not real name)" he asked one day. "he used to live in your building."

"yeah, of course. the bald guy. he's hot."

"yeah him. well, i ran into him yesterday and he invited me to go running."

"oh that's nice."

tintoretto is gay.

soon enough, my boyfriend and tintoretto were having afternoon tea, proofreading each other's documents, tearing up each other's linoleum tiles, and swapping scallop recipes. i'd have to listen to sentences like: "well, tintoretto likes my hair this way" and "tintoretto hated 'lost in translation' - it brought bile to his mouth."

enough became enough and i started to aver that tintoretto had to make an effort to get to know me as well. a few dinners were had. all went well; i didn't pick up any jealousy. i had him over for new years and we were up until 4 am talking; i didn't sense any resentment.

then one night i was watching jon stewart and the phone rang. my boyfriend had gone to bed and i didn't want it to wake him.

"hello?" i quietly answered.

i heard a click. and then i heard a dial tone.

*69.

it was tintoretto.

how many times does he have to be reminded that i am, actually, in the picture?

have i mentioned that he is 49 years old?

not too long ago i needed a drill. my boyfriend borrowed tintoretto's, because, despite being gay, he does know how to use powertools (hence his hotness).

it was up to me to return said powertool as my boyfriend had to go to greece to bury his grandmother. i left tintoretto a message one morning (it picked up after he first ring - he WAS home) saying that i was going for a run and i could drop it off, seeing that the running path is right by his house.

he never called back.

when my boyfriend returned from greece, a few weeks later, there were several messages asking for the drill back. my boyfriend came by my place, picked it up, and returned it. "he needed it, you know!"

"i left him a message!" i defended. "i wasn't proposing to have tea with him! i wasn't going to present my vagina to him!"

"i know krista. maybe whoever borrows the drill has to return the drill. maybe that's one of his rules."


over the years that we’ve been together, i've noticed many, many changes in my man. the latest are a surge of gray hairs and an emergent, and i do believe permanent, spare tire. i welcome these transmogrifications with open, flabby arms. hopefully they’ll help keep the nuisances at bay.