Theo had been friends for years. It was a wonderful friendship built over many wonderful memories of drunken nights, poker games and Magic The Gathering tournaments. It was fun, light and silly, and then everything changed. One early morning after another one of our nights, we ate at our favorite hole in the wall restaurant that served the best Mexican food in town and laughed triumphantly at being the sole survivors out of a lot of drunken, blubbering fools. Inebriated we were, yes, but we were still sober enough to pick ourselves up and satisfy our ebbing hunger. As we ate, he got a phone call from Owen who tended to drink and dial; we were relieved to hear from him because he had suddenly disappeared and we were worried that he had yet again found some random hook-up that he would regret in the morning. Suddenly, it hit me, I was in love with him. Tall, awkward potty-mouthed Theo. That night, I brushed it off, chalked it up to the alcohol. Fat chance! As days went by, I realized it was true.
So I did everything I could to ignore it. We went on a trip to the MTG Nationals on a charter plane. We had such a great time there but there was also a hint of sadness in me, because I knew that there was no hope for me. I couldn’t take it anymore, being around him was torture because all I wanted to do was hold him, talk to him, spend time with him, but how could I do that. I booked a New Flight Charters private jet early and left alone. All I did was think about him, the most amazing person I had ever met. And on that jet charter flight, all I did was weep.