I spent Monday night with Will talking things out. I don't really think it helped any because Will isn't the type of person who talks things out but rather ignores problems and hopes they'll go away. He sat on my bed for a good hour while we made chit-chat. I felt like a shrink.

"So, you know things between us can't work out." I watched him look around the room, avoiding all possible eye contact. A long pause.

"Yeah," he replied, softly.

"I have a boyfriend. You have a boyfriend..."

"Yeah."

The whole reason I had spent the weekend with him was because he needed a friend to talk to after a fight with his boyfriend of some number of years. They broke up, supposedly. And thus, the kiss between us. Now the only problem was, neither of us was truly available, so airing out what happened was a necessary step in order for us to remain friends. Could we even be friends after what happened? That line had been crossed and now we sat across from each other like shy first-graders, digging our toes into the ground.

"What do you want?" I asked him. Again, he paused for a small eternity.

"I don't know what I want, that's the problem," he said, glancing at me for a split second and then looking away.

"Because I'll tell you what you want. You want to pursue this thing with me, while maintaining the security of the relationship you currently have." I felt like I was lecturing myself. "You can't do that, you know."

"Yeah, I know," came the whisper.

Here I was, sitting and telling Will how it was and it dawned on me that I wasn't only referring to his situation but mine as well. I twas like talking into a mirror. I knew what the situation was and I knew what I had to do, I just needed to talk it out. We made our goodbyes and I told him I'd call later on in the week. Then, I went to bed.

I wonder if I've pushed Kurt away because of this. I know he's busy, but when you go from talking to someone every day to not hearing from them in a week, your mind starts to make things up. I've slowly started to let it go and maybe that's a bad thing, but I really need to be focusing on other things anyway, like school, for instance. It's my last year and after I graduate in May, I keep thinking that these things will be easier to maintain. I hope they will be, at least.

It happened in the car after drinking three pitchers of beer and I know that's no excuse because I've always been a strong believer in the idea that you can control your actions no matter how fucked up you are, but it certainly lowered my inhibitions. It wasn't very long, maybe 15 seconds. My hand reached for the doorhandle, mid-kiss, and with a quick goodbye, I bolted. I left him in the car looking somewhat confused and in a window reflection, I watched his tail lights as he sped away.

Running up the steps of my apartment, my breath came in short, forced gasps. I shut the door behind me and fell against it. Tears surged forward, but I bit them back. I had to do something. I had to talk to Kurt. I threw off my jacket and stumbled over to my computer.

What the hell am I gonna say? I thought. Then another voice in my head responded: Don't write him now, you're drunk. It's going to come out all wrong.I punched out a quick email ignoring the noise in my head and the spinning room. I wanted the email to hit him hard, shake him and make him realize that I'm waiting for him. I wanted him to know how I went out with Will and secretly pretended he was Kurt. I wanted him to realize that HEY! I have people who want to get with me, but I'm turning them down because I think I'm in love with him.

My hand shook as I cautiously held the cursor over the "Send" button and closed my eyes. A million fears were running through my head like a stampede of three-year-olds. What if he freaks out? What if he gets scared? What if I never see him again? What if he laughs at this? Fuck it. This is the way I feel and I'm going to tell him because I'm sick and tired of playing these games.

Click.

I just walked by the back patio and, looking out the window, I saw her sitting, smoking a cigarette. I don't know why I care, because I've seen her sit out there every day for the past two years but something inside me just burned when I saw the smoke escape from her lips. I wanted to run outside and shake her.

"What's wrong with you?"

She has breast cancer, too. I wonder why she doesn't take better care of her body. Why don't most people, for that matter? We dump so many poisons and carcinogens into our mouths, every day, eating artifical sweeteners, food dye, chemicals, and fat. They wouldn't be so bad in moderation or if the majority of people would actually exercise or take a hike in the evening instead of plopping down to watch television.

My opinion is changing about issues such as "Big Tobacco's" responsibility to the people. Physical addiction or no, you have control over your actions and choices. It's just a matter of degree and how important it is to you.

I'm not going to see him for a month. The military is his life, and I've accepted that, but I don't understand how anyone in our generation can possibly stand that kind of control over one's life. I certainly couldn't. They're practically treated like third-graders.

I want to know where this is going to go. At the same time, I don't. I want him to be happy and I want to be happy with him, but I know the two can probably never exist simultaneously.

At first, I was excited at the possibility of "bagging" a cadet. When I visit him in the dorms, he even makes the freshman greet me in the halls. There is a certain seductiveness in his authority, the way his uniform fits. Perhaps that's why I've been so infatuated with him.

Military uniforms are virtually a unanimous fetish for gay men. The uniform is decorated with honors, implying that the wearer's worth has already been proven. It also implies inclusion, appealing to many gays exposed to lifetimes of disdain and exclusion. The uniform represents authority and protection.

It's a destructive preoccupation, admittedly. After all, the military is war and death and conflict; it is society's attempt to fight fire with fire, but it is a necessary evil.

It's different now, because I realize that my wanting him has nothing to do with the military. I don't see those things when I look into his pale, green eyes, when I run my fingers through my hair, or feel his lip brush against my shoulder. Not when he whispers in my ear or jokes with me on the phone. I don't see those things when he stands in front of me, dressed in Air Force blue, hands gloved in white, rifle slung over his shoulder.

When I look at him, I don't see anything but what my mind is convincing me to see. He's not a cadet anymore. He's just the man I want to run away with.

Kurt and I have been together now for two months, give or take, and things seem to be going fairly well. The key word here is "seem," as appearances are deceiving. I'm unhappy because I never get to see him due to his military status.

Today, I talked to one of my friends, Will, who I've known for a while and, admittedly, have crushed on since last semester. Will is cute. Will is sweet. I want to hang out with Will, and Will wants the same, if you catch my drift. Then, Kurt's face appears somewhere in the back of my head. You know the part, the one that dreams of white picket fences and believes in gay marriage.

I hate this because I don't want to choose. Choosing implies judgement and judgement—in these cases—ultimately implies that someone is going to get hurt. I hate that. I thought I knew what I was looking for in another guy and right when I'm sure of what I want, I turn around and get smacked upside the head with something else.

I can be a player. Or, I can say no to Will, and wait to see if Kurt is as committed to us despite his military career. Or, I can bank on a feeling I have that Kurt isn't, and see where this thing with Will goes. Or, I can join a monastery. And believe me, that monastery is looking mighty good right about now.

Should I have been surprised that something, which was so appealing to me, would be just as appealing to everyone else? Why was I having such a hard time with that? I suppose I anticipated being part of a small, unique group of people who would find such a movie interesting. Then, it hit me: I was upset because I realized I was just like everyone else.

The conundrum is that, in our search for originality and creativity, we fail to see that our footsteps are falling on a well-trodden path. Nothing we say or do or think or like is ever original. And in that light, the world seems somehow less colorful. That is why true orginiality is paramount. Clichés should be avoided whenever possible.

I debated telling them I was gay. I've worked here for over a year-and-a-half and they still don't know. Not that I hide it or anything, it's just that no one has ever asked. I still believe that it's something they should know now that I'm a permanent member of the group, as the majority of the empployees are quite open about their marriages and personal lives. I feel a little like I'm cheating them by introducing them to my boyfriend as my "friend." I feel like I'm cheating him. I feel like I'm cheating myself.

Only time will tell. Things usually don't work out the way I plan, but we'll see. If it's meant to be, I suppose it will happen.

I'm fine now. Checked out the next day with my meds, all systems go. Pretty weird. It was a weird case of strep that lasted 48 hours. I hate to say this, but I sometimes wish I got sick more often, just because I'm a whore for sympathy (well, any kind of attention for that matter). I am proud to say that I received five bouquets of flowers, eleven cards, a box of candy, two boxes of green tea, and a pony.

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