Donkee is moving. He is leaving his job, selling his house, parceling out his possessions, and going to Mexico. His lover cheated on him, apologized, then did it again in the space of a few weeks. Or, rather, never really stopped in the first place.

Donkee and I have known each other since we were in school together, back in 1994. We have been part-time lovers and full-time friends. We have survived his lover dying of AIDS, numerous job changes, my two marriages and divorces. We have a long history and a deep affection. My heart is breaking for him.

He called from Mexico today, for support and to run his plan by someone. I told him right off that I had to go into procedural mode, problem solving, because this is hard to fathom (him going away, him leaving everything here). We talked about getting him a lawyer, so that he didn't lose more to his lover (EX-lover, EX, don't forget) than his lover was entitled to. They've only had a civil union since November, and I counseled Donkee to consult an attorney, because the EX doesn't get anything that Donkee acquired before that union was signed. And, actually, since Washington doesn't actually have full-rights gay marriage, the EX may not actually be entitled to anything. He probably won't want anything, but you know how people become avaricious once the pain of their actions, and the subsequent feelings of loss, penetrate their consciousness.

EX will miss the million-dollar house two blocks from the gayest neighborhood in Seattle. EX will miss the incredible generosity of Donkee, the lavish dinner parties, the assumption that he can show up after work to a fabulous, homemade meal. EX will miss the numerous Mac computers, iPods, iPhones, and associated accouterment. Have fun, EX, going back to your bachelor existence in some crap apartment that looks like your college dorm. Enjoy.

Bite me, EX, but you fucked up. You gave up a dedicated, nasty, sexy lover in order to please your dick. You're too young to realize the stupidity of not loving Donkee. Of not really having the sac to stay and try to work it out. Your youth has sabotaged you. Poor little thing.

Of course, Donkee has his own shit to deal with. We all do. But he didn't cheat. He'll handle all of this in his way and in his time, and I know he'll survive.

Donkee and I are getting together next week to sort things. He says I am one of the people who will get some of the possessions of the lover who passed away. I could cry. I will point him toward a realtor I trust who has experience in selling high-end homes. I will continue to encourage that he retain an attorney.

I will be sad. But I imagine I'll finally get to see Mexico. I wouldn't have chosen this deus ex machina, but choice isn't part of that literary device, now, is it?