I remind him of this when he gets out of my bed on Wednesday morning. It’s not like I was planning on sleeping with him again. For what it’s worth, I told him over dinner that I would not, and he told me he understood my position. But we had a lively and productive conversation—about our night together and the position it put Gunther in, about gay rights in general, about hypocrisy in homophobia—and when we went to hug goodbye, he stirred. And he’s really big, so it was really noticeable, and he is an adult, after all, and we wouldn’t be hurting anybody. There’s no reason for Gunther to care what we get up to, we rationalized as we clawed at each other’s clothes. Esau just needs to shut up about it, which he solemnly vowed to do. A vow that his howling “Drew, oh Drew, oh f**k yes Drew!” as
