these thought-images keep doubling back in my mind, a recurring nightmare, a crush never quite vanquished -- like dan. we met while i was studying in england. just an acquintance really, a fellow american. then one day i ran into dan. on magadelen bridge. there was an abrupt hug and a tremendous smile, as if we were long-lost friends. we spent the day together, travelled through the park together like the permanent tourists that we were. i really thought this was it. and you know, i was o.k. with it. for the first time.

i fantasized with reckless abandon -- oh the simple pleasure of not policing my own desire. some months later, after we'd both returned to our respective home states i penned a letter(i have a friend who maintains that the true path to wisdom is to read lots of other people's mail) that desperately tried to clearly yet subtlely express my love. there wasn't much to d.'s response, besides the casual invocation of heterosexuality.

i used to believe that "furtive" meant half-assed instead of secret. now i know it means both.