Why I slept with your mom.

Listen Blake.

I'm sorry. I'm sorry for so many things. I'm sorry I shanked you in gym class in the seventh grade. I'm sorry I killed your parrot (in my defense, you shouldn't put your dart board so close to the cage). And Jesus man, for the last time, I'm sorry I slept with your mother.

But dude. If you had been there, you would understand. But you weren't. You were too busy backpacking in Europe and "exploring yourself" to see that back home, in the quiet town of Cary, your mother was suffering. IT'S NOT EVERY DAY HER LITTLE BOY LEAVES THE NEST!

I was suffering too. Come on, you've been my broseph since the sandbox. Since before the sandbox. I swear dude, my earliest memory is of YOU - get this - in the hospital! You were several days older than me, and several days wiser. The doctors had barely gotten me clean from the birthing when you turned to me, and you said, "these colors don't run". And then you WINKED at me. You WINKED at me dude. Have you ever seen a baby wink?! It's fucked up.

TWO THINGS.

Firstly - You're right. These colors DON'T run.

Secondly-er (And more importantly) - that day was when I knew we would be best friends.

And we were. You helped me get over my cabinet phobia and I told you why it's NOT ok to smell a lady's purse. Remember the time we laughed for hours? Remember the time I dared you to eat season one of The Andy Griffith Show on dvd? Remember when we wanted to watch season one of The Andy Griffith Show on dvd but then remembered you ate it? And then you tried to throw it up, but you just coughed?

That's the Blake I remember. But you changed, dude. And it came out of nowhere. I mean, suddenly you're off, "doing homework" and "studying". Oh, and nice glasses by the way - you wear those, and yet you don't do what we used to do under the covers because you "aren't gay"?! Nice logic, Einstein.

So you changed. Whatever. But then you applied to college?! Whatever happened to opening the mini golf course? Remember? We were gonna have a mini country club and a mini suburb, too? And then we would walk around and destroy the buildings, like on Power Rangers?! A dream differed, I suppose.

AND THEN YOU REALLY FUCKIN DID IT.

You grabbed that gay little satchel and you went to Europe. "I'll be back in a year", you said, smiling all smug and reeking of your mother's potato salad. And that was the last time I saw you.

But it wasn't the last time I thought about you.

Weeks passed, and I didn't hear from you. I began to forget your voice, your face, and your smell. And I missed that smell.

So I went to your house. And there was your mom, wearing that old velvet bathrobe that displayed the most BEAUTIFUL sideboob. It's like your mom's left nipple was just ITCHING to be free. She looked at me. And I looked at her.

And we both just started crying.

Mine was like a faint whimper. But hers, they were racking sobs. And then, it happened. That nipple finally broke free.

I couldn't help but stare. And she couldn't help but feel a slight breeze. She noticed my wandering eye. I thought I'd be shamed for sure. But no. She was intrigued. Stricken by grief, we both took solace in the others arms.

That means we banged.

I'll spare you the details, but let me just say - woah.

Afterwards, it was a little awkward. I mean, it was fun calling her Mrs. Pennyworth in bed, but now it seemed inappropriate. She wrapped up some potato salad and swore never to speak of it again.

But here we are, nine months later, in the hospital where you and I first met. And I think it's time we bury the hatchet. We're older now. I have a son! And soon, you will be my step son. So let's fuckin let this go, shall we? I'll tell you what, you do this for me, and your mother and I will think about getting you a new parrot.

But no promises.