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When I first met Grayle Meadows, I made a pass at him, and he said that I was too young. "Come back when you're older, maybe with hair on your chin and chest." He glanced down at the tent in my pants, and smiled. "That too. Then, perhaps we can talk, but if you insist, I could use a friend."
A friend? I have lots of friends, I thought. But, with a man like Grayle, I'd take him anyway I could.
The next time I met him, he didn't see me. I had changed. I was no longer that twenty-year-old man who had been only a friend to him. My voice had deepened, and I had grown a beard. Now I was twenty-five and he'd forgotten me, but I hadn't forgotten him. Nothing had changed about Grayle Meadows. The only thing I could say was he'd become more handsome and sophisticated since the last I'd seen him.
I'd made up my mind that he would be my next love. This time we met on a blind date, and he never even looked into my eyes, and if he had, he'd have known that I would be his only love, because he was indeed mine.
