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12:44 p.m. - May 15, 2005
I don't know what to say or how to say it? Bullshit
Sit down in the seat, use my bible as a buffer in the chair beside me. Look forward and realize Victor is in front of me - I knew him from his shoulders and those earrings, and my stomach flip-flopped and my hands started shaking. For the briefest of moments I doubted my sanity, concerned I was not in church but somewhere else, another place where his presence could be explained but no, he was in my church, in my section, so close, and I yearned to touch him again, slip my hands under his shirt and tug on his nipples like I did before. He started to sing and I didn't, couldn't, felt those scarlet letters on my forehead manifesting: F A G. A fag in church, a pollutant. Debated whether to leave or stay, worried he would turn around and disappointed each minute that he didn't. Is it possible to have a panic attack only in the head? I couldn't move at all yet somehow exchanged greetings with the Japanese couple behind me, whom I love addressing in Japanese because it evokes such a warm smile from both their faces. And then Victor turned around and he was startled, then grinned, whispered Want more? and I grabbed my bible and left.

There is no such thing as a safe place.

Earlier this week I tried to talk about what happened but my tongue felt like lead and the shame was overpowering. I called at 3 a.m. his time - no, nothing is wrong! - and quickly the conversation was over. We are not close any more and this loss is difficult. So I bucked up, tried to sleep away the emotions, and on this morning when I woke up feeling decent I go to church and - there he is. A cosmic-scale lesson it seems, or I'm in God's own urinal.

Cruel irony.


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