We last saw each other three years ago when I was unemployed with a lot of time on my hands. We spent hours together each week and really connected on many levels. At the time, I counted his show, "Rock of Love", as one of the few quality television programs in the afternoon lineup.
I understood why he liked crazy women and slept in his bandana. I had no qualms with his pink lips, tattooed eyeliner, and Ed Hardy getup. I got it. It worked for him.
Yesterday, after years of no Bret, I got an unexpected surprise as I walked past the bus stop on 96th street. A larger-than-life (and incredibly photoshopped) picture of Bret graced the side of the crosstown bus! I contemplated a brief hug, but settled on this post instead.
Apparently, Bret is in a happy place now and doing well. As am I. I like to think that we met at a time in our lives when we both needed each other most. Together, we embarked on a new, exciting, yet nerve-wracking adventure. We needed each other then, but not now. We both made it.
Life definitely rocks.
* I attribute the over-the-top cheesiness of this post's ending to the overwhelming influence that Bret often exerts on me when left alone for too long in his presence.
1 comment:
I laughed when I read this! You are too funny! Hope all is well:)
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