When Danny – monastic Danny, not Brian Austin Green Danny – left for the monastery I said “You have to come back, though, to marry The Lad and I if we ever get married. That’s how I always imagined it.”
“Okay,” he said. After a pause, “You’ll never get married though, will you.”
Me, “Well, I retain the right to your services in the event.”
I wrote him a letter – him Danny not him The Lad – and sent it off, hopefully with enough stamps to make it to Greece. I wrote about sushi night and the musical and Katie’s causes and school and those abortion-picture people. I figured he doesn’t get enough of that kind of stuff, living with the monks.
Even though he turned out not to be dying for our sins (I know Michele was disappointed not to have her sins erased), I still feel like I have an ace in the hole. Somewhere in Greece, Danny is being spiritual so that I can whore around and lie to people and steal pens from work and occasionally hide a body in the woods. And also be slothful and gluttonous and covet my neighbor’s wife (who, in the Castro, is generally a very good looking man). I bet this is not how Danny intended that to work, but I find I sin a lot more knowing someone is working to balance it. What the hell, he’s there anyway. Why have a full tank of gas and not drive anywhere?
And if he is anything, he is a full tank of gas.