The other day I ran into "G" at the museum where I went to pass a few cool hours. I was with my oldest friend who has been in my life for over 50 years, (yes we grew up together). "G" is the lover of "M" who at one time was my lover. "M" and me met in 1969 and lived together for some eight years. "G" & "M" have been lovers for over nearly 30 years, so I guess I was just a stop along the way. Even when me and "M" ended our relationship we remained close friends, and I even managed to become friends with "G" spending time with him alone when "M" was traveling. "M" was a somewhat important playwright and composer of light operas and would be asked to give lectures and put on productions of his somewhat obtuse and avant-garde plays and sweet little operas. "G" was very jealous of me because he felt that "M" still carried the torch for me between his hairy thighs. This may have been true as sometimes in the middle of the night "M" would call me up drunk out of his mind to tell me that he still loved me and "that I was the true love of his life" this as "G" slept by his side in their tiny bed in their tiny apartment on the Upper Westside of Manhattan. It was odd running into "G" as I haven't seen him for some years, as we had a falling out over some silly incident about a birthday party and he has been angry with me for ever over this or so it seems. It wrecked my relationship with "M" and I haven't seen him either for many years.