Dead eyes stare at me. His pupils turn small. He nonchalantly shrugs. “I think you’re missing the point. I’m not his perfect man. He’s trying to find that guy. Just like I am. We’re all rugby balls. We get passed from human to human. He’ll be passed soon. From me to the next guy, then to the next guy. The right guy will find him. His rugby players help him with this. He likes dating and sleeping with them. He’ll be happy soon with the right one.”
“Why don’t you two just separate and go your own ways?”
He sighs, thinks about his answer before responding, and eventually says, “Out of laziness, I suppose. Or the mere fact that we are comfortable with each other. Plus, I honestly do believe that he loves me, even if I don’t work in the bedroom with him. He has a good heart and soul. He cares
