I had a friend whose uncle was an awesome guy. He was smart, classy, loved bossa nova, had an excellently decorated apartment. He had a record collection with 1000+ albums, lived a wild youth, and still smoked weed with us. He was an interesting guy with some interesting stories, and he and his nephew told me this one when we stopped over one day.
The unfortunate thing about living a wild life in the '80s is that sex was risky business, especially if you were gay. He had contracted HIV and one of his complications was blindness.
A few years before I had met him, he had been in a relationship with a hambeast. At the time he didn't think a blind, HIV-positive gay man could do any better. (He has since found many much thinner, better looking partners.)
Even though he couldn't even see the guy, he was still disgusted by his weight. He tried desperately to get him to lose the weight and it caused serious conflict throughout their relationship. Uncle S, after having broken up with him for his weight had agreed to get back together with him because he had dropped lenough to finally get lapband surgery. He stayed with him, supported him, took care of him throughout the whole process, but began to feel suspicious he was cheating. His kitchen is very organized (we were under strict instructions not to move anything in his kitchen, and he would always get up to get things for us. My friend once moved something and his uncle ended up grabbing the cornmeal instead of the oatmeal because they're both in cylindrical cardboard containers) so he could tell when things were moved or went missing but wasn't prepared with enough evidence to accuse him. But the one condition of Uncle S staying and supporting him through the surgery was that he would not return to his old ways.
They took a wonderful vacation down to florida, had a great time, and had received from their friend a pound of fudge as a gift for them to share. When they returned, they had my friend over the next day. Uncle S told my friend to go and try out the fudge, which he happily obliged. He shouted from the kitchen that he couldn't find it, and Uncle S asked Hamboyfriend to find it for my friend. Silence. He asked again.
"Oh... it must be in the luggage...." It was not. Uncle S knew exactly where it was supposed to be in the kitchen.
"YOU ATE AN ENTIRE POUND OF FUDGE IN ONE DAY?!"
Uncle S is a very sweet, softspoken guy, but my friend said the rage that came over Uncle S made him flee the house. The ensuing argument ended the relationship for good.
Of course he's way better off now and gets guys that are actually much younger than him. He's fit and goodlooking for his age, and is very careful about his health and others'. I can't get over how pathetic the hambeast was, to fail over and over again, to disappoint someone far more attractive, who had been so supportive even with his own hardships to deal with.
Because gorging on fudge was more important than the man he supposedly loved. Go figure.