Prologue
PROLOGUE
I ’m getting married next month. It’s crazy. Not because I’m not the marrying kind. I am. Definitely. I love any and all things romantic. Songs, movies, novels. As long as there is a happy ending, I’m in. Like many other hopeless romantics, I’m also unfailingly optimistic. I figured the right man was out there somewhere. I could almost picture what he’d look like… tall, dark, and handsome. I’m not necessarily shallow, so I would certainly have entertained blond and homely, but at six foot three, I really hoped for a man on the taller side. In the end, I got what I was looking for, in spades. Well, sort of….
I may have always figured I’d be a married man one day, but Peter did not. Ever. Not to a woman, not to a man… he simply wasn’t that guy. Peter is my fiancé, my boyfriend, partner, lover… soon to be husband. We have been together now for five years. And yes, we’re gay. Out and proud and happy to be so. Peter may be less so than me. Don’t get me wrong. He is a well-adjusted, out gay man; however, that is where the similarities end.
Well, that and we’re both tall. He’s six foot four. After that, it’s a case of opposites attract. But the thing people forget about falling for someone who is your polar opposite is that you may just as easily hate them. That’s how it was for me. No one on this earth could ever deny that Peter Morgan is hotter than hell, and certainly not me. However, once I had to interact with him, infatuation fled and I was left wondering why the most gorgeous ones were either straight, taken, or just plain assholes.
Obviously there is a story here or I wouldn’t be on the verge of agreeing to a lifetime commitment. I feel compelled to relate it because I have learned so much over these past few years from this man and our relationship. One important lesson is an age-old one. Never judge a book by its cover.