There's just somethin' about a hot guy in your kitchen cooking you dinner. You know - watching his strong forearms as he prepares mostaccioli, enjoying the way he feels his way around your kitchen even though he's never cooked anything in it before.
It's even better to sit and relax while he does the dishes, and passes you dessert.
Now if only a straight guy would come do that ...
Yes, Patrick was here for dinner. I love the very Will & Grace-esque way we sort of fall into a rhythm. I love that we can talk about everything and nothing, and that I can tell him I've been angry at him for almost five years and he understands that, and he doesn't pretend like it isn't important.
Old friends are like old blue jeans. They fit better than anything else.