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As I was shutting the door Brett told me to park the car and then join them. Brett had a tie on along with slacks, fine leather shoes and his jacket. I had brought my jacket, but jeans and cowboy boots were what I wore. I wish I had grabbed a tie, just in case. Ok, the cuck can't really compete with the Bullfriend anyway, so why bother. I entered and the hostess was just taking them to our table. I sat across the couple as always. We discussed what we all wanted and when the waitress approached she asked me if we were ready to order. Maybe because everyone this night were couples, and for some reason I was sitting across from this loving couple. Patrons and staff were all gawking. Brett was holding my wife's hand as he told the waitress "my friend here will have the baked halibut, his lovely wife will have lobster and shrimp, and I will have the same as my girl." She took the order looking at my wife's ringed finger wrapped in Brett's hand. As she turned to leave she. . I couldn't help but grudgingly admire that. My ultimate fan. An awfully pretty guy. Who was a dream babe. Whose giggles to my teases and jokes I'll miss. Whose nice different dresses and hairdos and shameless manners and gracescut her apart from guy-clone girls normal today. Whose long slow strolls in the park with me made my days and whose moviedates made my nights. Whose warm snuggles next to me on the warm grass pointingout animals in the clouds I was going to miss. All this I was going to miss just because Camellia wasn't real. All because Camellia was really a--a guy! But--so what? How much difference did it make before, really? It didn't matter what wasup inside her skirt or was missing in her blouse that made our times togetherso great and exciting. It was her beauty, not biology that captivated me andclaim her, and Camellia was easily more feminine and romantic than most babesI knew. It was her her charm and laughter and looks that.
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