I guess not

Gravel flew up onto the porch from the back tires of the rusted red pickup truck as Vinnie swept out of the driveway and fled the scene of our final sorrow.  He left me sitting on the swing with a look of surprise on my face, still gently rocking from his abrupt departure.  I was holding the tiny bouquet of pink rose buds he had handed me before getting down on one knee and asking me to marry him. 

Vinnie and I had met in elementary school, we'd been made buddies on a field trip to the local craft fair.  We had so much fun together that we promised to be buddies always, and so we had.  We fought to be in the same class, ate our lunch together, chose each other as science fair partners, always picked each other first on the playground when we were captains.  We had our share of ups and downs along the way.  Our little sorrows when we were both picked as captains and had to play against each other.  When our parents took us on vacations in different directions over the holidays.  When we couldn't convince our folks to send us to the same summer camp.  Little sorrows but always buddies. 

College rolled around and we were accepted at the same university, but my folks insisted I attend a different school.  It was rough, but we continued to be buddies.  When Vinnie's mother passed away, I came home from college and shared his sorrow.  He needed a shoulder and I was there for him.  He was there for me when my father passed the following year.  Always buddies.

Our differences didn't matter to either of us.  We were the best of friends and that was all that mattered.  Until that morning and the proposal.  I don't know how Vinnie didn't realize that I was heterosexual.  I thought he knew and accepted that I was born this way.  I guess not.