In accordance with the prophecy

He came into the kitchen, fresh from a much-needed massage that he'd scheduled that morning. He didn't get in with a female masseuse, however.

"How was it?" she asked with a grin, half expecting a semi-creeped out, homophobic answer.

"It felt good," he replied with the post rub down chillaxed grog on his visage. "I feel better."

"That's good! What was the massage therapist like? Better than the last one you had?"

"Yes. I think you'd really like him," he paused, looked down into the sink, then added: "I mean, really like him. It's guys like that that make me wonder why you're with someone like me."

Her curiosity perked at this little confession as he got ready to go back to work, on sunny Saturday afternoon.