Tears had been forming in my eyes for quite some time, hidden from view by my giant sunglasses. As soon as the car stopped, one escaped, but he didn't see it and I was able to play it off and hold it together long enough to say goodbye. Goodbye is never a sentimental moment with my Brawler. Eric really isn't the mushy type. He grabs me and hugs me, with the violent urgency he always exudes at surprising moments, says its been real and hops out of the car. Tears fall when he leans down to wave goodbye and I leave as fast as possible, but when he's out of sight and I'm far enough away, my chest concaves and I am breathless with grief. Gulp, gasp, and then wail. Vision blurs and I turn off the radio so no song will be related to that moment, that emotion. I don't want to have any music to play when I think of him and need to cry harder.

Eric, my Brawler, is gone yet again.

I rarely see him anymore, but he is one of my best friends. We go long periods of time without talking, but he is one of my best friends. We really don't know each others lives anymore, but still, he is one of my best friends. It's hard to explain it. He's not there for me all of the time, but he is always there for me when he is needed. Last time he was here was 2006. He came this time because he had called one day out of the blue and I was crying over my foot and instead of just saying no like he always does when I ask him to come, he shocked me by relenting and saying yes. I didn't believe him until he came walking up my steps and there he was...tired and weathered and annoyed to be in Jersey, he said hello and my heart jumped into my throat. He had actually come. He had come for me.

We have always had a strange relationship. We met at work when my friends dared me to ask "the dark voiced don" if he wanted anything from Wawa. When I went to introduce myself, he said, "I know who you are," in a seemingly dismissive tone, but a slight smile was planted on his lips. He intrigued the hell out of me. So of course...I wanted to fall in love. After that night, he always sat with our group and we became good friends. He taught me to play chess, I gave him manicures, and he surprised himself by opening up to me and telling me secrets. He said I made him talk too much and it made him uneasy because he didn't understand it. I became his confessional, and thus he was my fallen saint. I can't express how much I adored him...how being around him filled me with tingly nervousness and caused me to mumble and trip over my words and ask dozens of inane questions. He would just laugh and comment on how cute my strangeness was and answer my questions with a bluntness that was ofttimes off-putting and hurt my feelings until I realized he wasn't being mean...it was just how he talked. Everything is a statement...flat out, that's it, no further discussion needed. It was arrogant and completely masculine, and everyday I was offended and attracted on so many levels it was ridiculous. He was my obsession. My Amen-Ra. It only became worse when I showed him my poems I'd written about him and he said it was some of the best stuff he'd ever read. When I told him they were about him...the look on his face and his stunned silence was priceless. He said he wasn't worthy of my opinion of him, and I just said I can only write what I see and know. He said I should be famous, I should go to poetry slams and poetry chats online and write a book and let the world see my talent. He called me phenomenal. I was in complete and utter awe. I was his slave.

But that was just our over-electrified friendship. That's all we were...all we are. It's hard to explain how I can love him so much without being in love with him. How I can need him so much without really wanting him. The sexual tension stays taught but never breaks or explodes into more. I am just a slave chained to his ankle. I gave myself to him and I never looked back. He repays me by never exploiting my devotion and occasionally contacting me to show me I am remembered and important to him and in his way, I am loved.

He came here and we watched bad movies and lounged around the house and had philosophical conversations in the dark about fate and God and love. He washed my dishes and took out my trash and fixed my headlight in 94 degree weather and fretted over my foot. He took care of me. He let me lay against him as I watched TV and asked my stupid questions. I had to be close to him when he laughed because it rumbles through his chest and it is the best feeling ever. I watched him go from here to there with my constant fascination and my heart was so happy to have him here with me I could barely take it. He acted as if it was an everyday thing for us to be together like that, and somewhere inside...that little spot that in me that will always be all his own...I wished that it was true. I wanted him to stay with me. I wanted the weekend to never end. But it did.

It always does.

So I kept myself in check the whole time, never allowing myself to be too emotional until his last night while he was drifting to sleep. "I'll miss you so much when you leave me. I don't know why I will miss you, but I always do." He was quiet for a moment and then he sighed as if I'd worn him out, like he always does when I say something like that and he thinks of a way to answer without sounding too callous. "You'll always have Starbucks and Gaetano's to remember me by so you don't miss me too much." A totally pointless answer, that has a touching inside joke inside of it. Noncommittal and completely honest. Eric all over.

Now he's gone and I am missing him terribly already. I was missing him even when he was still here. My Eric is my hero...my Vampire King...my Brooklyn Brawler; one of my fab five men that looks down on the sky. I don't think I will ever understand how I feel for him or why he always knows when to come for me when I really need him. He is my friend, one of my best friends, and all I know is I will always need him...and in my heart I know that no matter how far it might seem like we drift apart, whenever I really need him, he'll know it and no matter what, he'll come back for me.

My Brawler always comes for me.