DESTINY MCKINNEY

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      "What kind of man breaks it off with his woman because she asks where the relationship is heading?" I ask George, just as he takes a huge bite out of his chicken fajita. 
 He rolls his eyes in mock impatience. "The wrong kind," he replies with a mouthful. 
George is my very gay and loyal friend. Whenever I have men problems, fashion issues, hair issues, and whatever else is turning my world upside down I run to him for support. 
      "Can you believe I wasted six months of my life with that fool?" I ask crossly. "What am I going to tell my mom happened to this one?" 
      "Tell her you were in love. He was not. I don't even think Jason really likes girls." George's confession sends me into panic mode. 
      "What? … Why you never said anything?" I ask. 
George struggled with being gay for years before coming clean last year. The thing that I admire about him the most is that he didn't pretend to like women to cover up that he was gay. It wasn't what others would say that mattered, but he was more afraid of disappointing his family. George is the last child of eleven children. His parents Ennis and Shannon Elder are still alive, still together, and still live in the same house that he and his siblings were born and raised.  
       "I tried to tell you, remember? You said you didn't want to hear it because I think every man that dresses well is gay," he retorts. George rolls his eyes and snaps his fingers emphasize his outrage that I didn't believe him. 
       "I don't remember that George. I wouldn't have shot down your opinion on a guy I was dating," I say rather unconvincingly. 
       "This was when you first started dating. We were having lunch at Applebee's. You kept talking about how good he was and gave me so much detail about him that I was able to see right through the rose-colored glasses that you were looking through." 
Shaking my head in denial, I stuff a fajita in my mouth. We are at George apt so I can't kick him out. I came over initially to test out his new fajita set. He has been hounding me for weeks to come over, so here I am. If I knew that truth would be slapping me in the face, I would've stayed my butt home. 
      George continues to let me have it as he would always say. "Your hormones were raging and honey he must have done a darn good job satisfying you in the bedroom because you were wooing and ahhing like a well-fed cat." 
      A rising bubble of hysterical laughter fills the living room. I laugh so hard tears come to my eyes. "You get on my nerves," I say playfully. 
      "Girl, you been on my last nerve. I'm glad he's gone. He was cutting into the time I spend with you entiway and you know I have to have my Destiny time." He leaves the table, takes his plate with him, but leaves the unopened coke he begged me to pick up from the store.  
      "Entiway? What the heck is that?"
      "Another word for anyway," George offers and smiles a cool little smile.  
      "Where do you come up with this junk?"
      George scrapes his leftovers in a clear container and places it on the top shelf of the refrigerator.  "I make it up," he says casually. "The family reunion is next week. You are still coming, right?"
      "Yes. You really think Jason is gay?" I ask. I'm having a hard time with this little piece of information. I believe I'm somewhat of a smart gal and I should know the man I've been dating for six months better than my friend does. 
      "If he's not, then I'm not black."
      "Oh wow!" I'm puzzled and it shows. Running aimless fingers alongside George bookshelf, I wait quietly and patiently for him to elaborate. 
      "First of all, I have a gay radar. Jason can tell me what designer he is wearing and when I ask him about his sexuality when you weren't in the room he looks away and was acting strangely. Tell me you haven't noticed the way he allows me to flirt with him and he doesn't retaliate." 
     "He was just being nice to you because you're my friend." 
     "Oh no honey," he chides. "My brothers are heterosexual men and they love me, but they will not entertain this side of my lifestyles. In other words, they know that I'm gay, but they don't want to see me acting gay and I better not start flirting with their buddies around them."
We continue our debate over two scoops of ice cream and a brownie on the sofa that George has own since college. George gets sick of arguing with me and finally drops the subject once he realizes that he isn't getting anywhere. I guess I'm reluctant to agree with him. I just don't like the feeling of being duped. My self-esteem is already low from the break up; I don't want to add to the damage.
George's cell phone rings between commercials and he excuses himself to take it in his bedroom. I find that odd. George never hides anything from me. Several minutes pass and he still has not come back out to join me. I resist the urge to go find him and lose the battle.