I have a generous handful of wonderful, trusted male brother-type friends: TB, KN, DW, BL, JK, DL, PM. We have intimate relationships of the intellectual sort, but none of us ever...well, we just never have and never will.
But if there has been intimacy of another form (is my delicacy of expression Puritanically overwrought?) -- and especially if that intimacy has gotten inextricably lodged in the heart after a good amount of time -- how does one disprove Wilde's assertion?
(I'm feeling very Carrie Bradshaw right now. It's Saturday night, I had coffee with one guy this afternoon and dinner with another guy tonight, and I've ended up at home alone with my precious pooch at 9pm, typing rhetorical questions into my laptop.)
These ruminations come after Banana and I went to a Screen Actors Guild screening of "Brokeback Mountain" last night. I'm not of a mind to post my review right now...I'm just thinking of the line Jake Gyllenhaal's character speaks to Heath Ledger's character when they're at loggerheads over their star-crossed love, a heartbreaking line that anyone who's ever been in a hard love has thought, or felt, or uttered: "I wish I knew how to quit you."
And they were two GUYS, Oscar.
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