But what about me..

I serve you hand and foot.

I stress every minute of the day making sure you are happy.

I can't talk to you about who I am since I'm your servant.

I was suppose to be your lover..

I've transformed into a thirty something year old housewife who's in a sexless marriage with no children.

I start my mornings off watching the Nanny on Lifetime while ironing your shirts. Followed by making your lunch and wishing you a happy day at work. I then clean the apartment and dust heavily making sure you have no chance breaking out with hives. Dusting and cleaning off all the hair from that nasty cat who's begging for freedom. Then I cook dinner. While dinner's in the over I hurry go down to the pool and do water ballet and then work on my upper strength in the gym. Shower and wait by the door to welcome you into your humble home. I serve you dinner and desert as you watch the news and complain about what's wrong in the World. I clean up trying to avoid hearing your actually words or else I might get hostile and yell at you. You get up. Shower. And then I finally tuck you into bed. A moment to myself as I fall asleep watching re-runs of Mad about You and Frasier. Twice a week I have an evening of freedom to relax and go to the Italian restaurant across the street to drink and load on carbs. As you go to your Eastchester Democrat meetings trying to save the World from old pipe bursts, lawn damage on elderly property, and having an open discussion about the future of Tuckahoe. Did I mention I do laundry once a week spending hours trying to get rid of the skid marks you leave all over your underwear? Little boy, toilet paper's are best friend!! I feel like I should congratulate you for being a big boy when I see no spots from your laundry for a week!

I serve you hand and foot.

I stress every minute of the day making sure your happy.

I can't talk to you about who I am since I'm your servant.

I was suppose to be your lover.

My mother gives me advice how to be a better husband. I finally gave up telling her we're not an item. My heart tells me to listen her go on about being hospitable as possible. I'm representing a home full of welcome. A home filled with love and joy. Somehow she got me hooked on going back to church every Sunday with Chris. An Episcopal Church. We're gay remember? And she got me hooked on Oprah's book club. Sometimes, I know this is a little embarrassing.. I watch Oprah and wish I was in the audience with the rest of the housewives hoping she'd give out something spectacular while preaching words of a different wisdom.

I serve you hand and foot.

You look like Ray Romano with bad acne.

I stress every minute of the day making sure your happy.

You sound like Ray Romano.

I can't talk to you about who I am since I'm your servant.

Sometimes Everybody Loves Raymond comes on when you're not home. Immediately I rush to the T.V. and change the channel or turn it off.

I know I deserve more.

A midlife crisis at twenty one. No booze please. When I drink a lot, I get frisky. There's no way I want to be frisky in bed with someone who skid marks allover the damn apartment!! I mean, oh what's gotten into me. One day a man approached me and told me I looked liked Matt Damon as I was out on the town in Bronxville. I pinched his cheeks and said "Aren't you the cutest!!"

You're happy.

I'm miserable.

You're always urging me to be more involved.

I was a youth advocate representing diversity nationwide.

You urge me to go with you to the Eastchester Democrats.

One wrong turn in life left me to resort to this.

You urge me to go with you to community protests.

I baked you a dam cake for your gatherings isn't that enough!!

The man in Bronxville asked for my phone number. I was about to pinch his cheeks again and then it occurred to me. I'm not a thirty or forty year old woman. I'm twenty two. Seriously I'm don't believe in lying about your age. Yes when I was fourteen I was convincing men I was eighteen. Only for legal matters. We went for a walk along the Bronx River Parkway. He was a Professor over at Sarah Lawrence. Taught art. I use to model for artists before I ended up in Tuckahoe I told him. Something about being under a spotlight sweating in the nude did it for me. Students and teachers would compliment how great of I model I was. Gosh, I miss it. I miss how spontaneous my life use to be. He asked me to pose for one of his classes. He asked me to go on a date. A real date.

You're happy.

I'm going on a date.

You look not so happy.

We're not a couple Chris.

BUZZZZ.

Chris, I've worked hard the past two years. I deserve to go on a date.

Don't you have your Democrat meeting tonight.

I can't bail out on him to go with you to the movies.

Chris I'll bring you home a pastry. I'll bring you home some root beer to go with your pastry.

Buzzz.

Chris, I won't leave you. Please let me go out. I won't leave you. I promise you'll be good to go in the morning.

I kept the professor waiting for twenty minutes. Chris looked down from the balcony as he gave me roses. Chris looked down as the Professor opened my door for him. Chris waved thinking I didn't notice. Chris tied my organs in knots through out the night. I feared he wanted me out. I feared he'd pack up all of my belongings and have them sitting at the front desk with a note saying " Good Luck!" The Professor asked everything possible about my past to the now. I let out. The professor told me his story. Married to a woman for eleven years. His wife an opera singer who lit up the Town where ever she went with her personality. Sounded like me with out the opera part. Full of drama though. My life that is. Till I got to Tuckahoe. They lived Scarsdale in a big house surrounded by trees. There daily escape from city. She passed away having heart problems. He dreaded the city with her not being around. Took a year off to deal with his emotions and found comfort through a friend. Who happened to be a man. A comfort he then resorted his sexuality to. I told him about the many men I went through which pushed me to live a seclusion. I lost trust and lost the spark in meeting someone. Always thinking negative if someone tried to get my attention. And then I became this odd figure in people's home. A butler. More like a wife. To single men who needed or wanted things a wife or a mother would offer. With out the intimacy. I've lived in seclusion. I miss my life. I miss.. The Professor then asked "Will you pose for me on Tuesday? I know it's short notice. I got to have you pose. You're remarkable." I couldn't deny the offer. How do you turn down a man who calls you remarkable. The night was coming to an end. And ended with a kiss on the cheek. "No pinching?" I pinched one. He opened my door and wished a good night. Chris looked down. I waved up to him. And then blew a kiss goodbye to the Professor. Front desk left me a note.

A surprise is waiting for you in the apartment. I knew it. I'm getting kicked out.

The Door opened with out me putting in the key.

The Door opened and candles lit the room.

The Door opened and apartment filled with flowers.

The Door opened and Chris dressed down to a silk robe and boxers.

"I'm all clean" He smiled

No place to turn. An act of desperation. I smiled. Chris opened the champagne. Let the drinking begin. Chris gave me the bottle. And I brought on the goods. I tend to forget how low I stoop down in order to have the comforts of having a roof over my head.

I serve you hand and foot.

I stress every minute of the day making sure your happy.

I can't talk to you about who I am since I'm your servant.

I'm not your lover. I'm your servant. And I work my butt off to live here.

Don't touch me. I'll have you the laughing stock of the town.