In the same vein, did you know I can tell fortunes? Here's yours:

At the age of twenty-seven, you travel to Las Vegas for your bachelor's party. They're a little outdated, as you know, but it's a time-tested excuse for a vintage boys night out. Ah, to relive those college days... it's time for a new chapter in your life, but not before kissing the old one goodbye.

Except you did a lot more than kiss that night. You sodomized his asshole. Buds, since middle school- hell, grade school even- yet there's always been an implacable though ever-present aura of sexual tension between the two of you. Ignited by the fumes of alcohol and persuaded by a childish fear of change, the atmosphere erupted that night, as did your penis.

You're a Top, in case you've ever wondered.

That wedding was the most awkward, painful experience of your life. He was supposed to be your best man. You asked your father to fill in for him, and he's done an admirable job (he nailed that opening toast, the crowd just loved him), but your best bud should've been there. That is, he would've been there, had you not fucked him in the ass. Twice.

You went on to have a happy marriage, isolating that dark secret within the clandestine, cloaked caverns of your psyche. Just like you willed yourself to forget his subsequent suicide. Three kids, a six-figure salary, a nice two-story house with a swimming pool nestled in the Texan hillside. By all means, your life is perfect, so long as you never let that secret surface.

Also one of your sons turns out to be flamboyantly gay. Ironic, isn't it?