Archeology - Oh My Fuck

 

So I was  bagging his old clothes to take them to The Shepherd's House because everything in these bags has plenty of wear left in it -- the man was a clothes horse.  I'm having him buried not in his Donna Karan suit but in his Barcelona bought black leather jacket and black jeans.  When he bought that jacket (for $400) without calling me he scandalized the wives of two other couples because he spent money without asking me.  As if.

 

 

 So it's important to understand that Will and I had separate closets, though we slept together, I always changed downstairs.  (He had purchased the house in part so that we could have separate areas...and I haven't had a separate area inside this house for months now.)  Anyway, I hadn't looked for anything in this closet for.... ever...until this summer, when I found my Jr. Miss dress in it.  Yesterday I pulled a bankers box out of it and found, in the usual mess, a treasure trove of family portraits buried along with old playbills from the 80s, a file folder full of sermons, some ticket stubs, letters from yet another woman who got angry with him and bolted because he didn't communicate correctly, and our old, 1992 sexual agreement.

Young Scholar, Wilbur Huck

 

 

 

And, in the very back of the closet,

 

 

The  surprising thing is where he kept this, not that he had it.  I think he hid it from me in a fruitless attempt to "win" our ongoing silent discussion about his sexuality.