T.A. Webb

Every gay man out there has at least one man-crush in his past that totally shriveled his nads into raisins and sent him screaming off into the night.

Regret is the sound of the ghosts of our own making. I will live with mine until I die.

I think I grew up that night. It might have been Patrick that lost his virginity, but it was me that lost my innocence. Laying in the dark,holding the guy I__ loved since I was twelve and being the friend, the rock he needed_without being corny or schmaltzy, I think I became a man.