Love and The Threat of Death

I've watched closely as many members of my clique have slipped into relationships, a state of being here in Sodom-by-the-Sea about as rare and stable as any ice sculpture in the sun. Perhaps The Palace helped the idea along, too, because despite it's position as the crown jewel of South Beach's gay businesses, it is not really a cruisy venue. Sure, put 100 gay men on one corner--many of them half naked--and sparks will fly. As CitySearch points out, The Palace is more a center of fun and socializing than a pick-up joint.

Now many of my confirmed bachelors have a common worry: Death my Murder. And there is no amount of protection I can offer.

Just this weekend, Jeremy--the strong and hardened captain we all rely on--was heard saying, "Really, if I'm not out of here by four, Jose will kill me!" (A short time later, he bounced back in saying, "I've been granted a one hour reprieve!!", from certain death, no doubt. Yet another friend confessed to me, "Bill will kill me if he knows I'm smoking a cigarette." Even the condemned get a light, I thought. And just yesterday, humpilicious Officer Brian moaned, "Bennett wanted to kill me when he learned I was coming down here a third time in one month." Well, Brian, arrest the bitch, and while you are at it all the rest of these shrewish wives.

Amour de la glorie.