I have … a problem. A moral dilemma, I suppose … I’m not sure it is. But then, I doubt that either of the parties involved will ever read this journal, so I will commence to spilling the beans. I like someone. I mean, I really like someone. Sadly, I didn’t realize this until last night. I’ve known this person for four years, both of us always “involved” with someone else – but this is someone I’ve always liked, I just didn’t realize it until last night. His name is Matt. Yesterday morning, I get a call from Sarah, a high school (and somewhat college) friend – she used to date David, too … oh, the drama … that surprisingly does not exist. But anyway, she calls my grandmother’s, who then calls David, to where Sarah got my current number from Shannon and … yeah, there was quite a goose chase going on to locate me considering Sarah and I haven’t spoken since before I moved in with Spiff. But that’s beside the point. I get a call from her yesterday morning – at first I didn’t recognize her, but she said “Hey, Seth. It’s Sarah.” “Uhm … oh! HI!” “Guess who I have standing in my kitchen right now?” There was a pause as I thought … it had to be someone important enough for her to go through all the trouble of finding me, so who would I think that she had connections to or who did I know that she knew and hadn’t seen in a while? And the first thing that came to mind was … “Steve.” “Ding ding ding ding ding! Good boy! So what are you doing after work today?” “Uhhhh …” “You’re coming to my place to hang out with us!” For those who don’t know about Steve, we were friends in high school … I hung out in his crowd – the Goths, I suppose, we had a couple of parties together, went to movies – I think I even went to his house a couple of times. I’d always thought he was cool – and yes, maybe I had a slight crush on him, but I really would have rather spent my time with Paul at the time, as he was a good and close friend … and not surrounded by drooling, pretentious goth-wannabe-girls … So I, of course, agreed to visit on the fly – as I hadn’t seen him in over five years, since he joined the army and moved to Pennsylvania and all. I get there, and it’s the same old Steve … only now with a fiancé and a three-year-old son named Gabriel … and Gabe, my friends, was really smart for a three-year-old … and quite in a rush to show off his yo-yo. But, kid and fiancé aside, it was the same old Steve … and unfortunately, as I sat there, witnessing his interaction with his fiancé and Sarah … and his son, and the way he treated the other friends who’d come to visit him … I realized “What the hell was I thinking? This guy is just a pretentious ass.” And realized that I’d wasted three years of my teenage life just hanging around him. I spent most of the night hanging out with his son, actually. I had more fun playing yo-yo with Gabriel than even bothering to talk to Steve. And while Sarah was off entertaining Steve and other guests – and then, ultimately dying her hair purple – I spent my time hanging out with her husband … … Matt … With him, I had the most fun that I’d had in a while … and just talking. We talked about pretty much everything from Chris Angel to the word ostentatious … and actually got out the dictionary, looking up random words and trying to incorporate them into our regular conversations … that, and his hair was very soft, I remember … and I complimented him on such a thing … I think … the first time I met him was when Sarah, Matt, and I went with a group of friends to see A Perfect Cricle at the Louisville Garden back in 2001 … we stayed in a Days Inn that night and while Sarah was being one of those moody drunks, he was getting totally smashed and watched TV Funhouse with a completely sober me … and we opened up to each other. I’d always thought of it as a bonding moment. I didn’t realize it until last night that … that night in the Days Inn was when I realized that … I actually liked him. Last year, they were married. She “tricked” him into having a Wiccan ceremony. For some reason, in the back of my head, I could hear a voice saying that this was sooooooo not going to work out. I thought I remembered them telling me on quite a few occasions that they just wanted to live together and never get married … I ‘d always thought they had too many dramatic scenes to want to get married. I guess they thought once they actually did have it done legally, the drama would stop. If that was the case, they were horribly wrong. There’s a reason why that voice was resounding in my head at their wedding, telling me that it wasn’t going to work out. And as much as I love Sarah, I have known for a rather long time that she is, in fact, bisexual. But last night, we’re talking, she asks me if I’m seeing anyone now – I tell her no, there’s no one, but I’m about 80% sure that I’m gay. She confides in me, telling me not to tell anyone, but she’s about 98% sure that she’s a lesbian. I was shocked, yet not. I immediately started wondering if Matt knew. I was about to ask her, that is, until she started telling me about her current girlfriend … that she got engaged to recently – ring and all … even showed me the ring. She told me that she didn’t really want a divorce from Matt … but … I told her that it was actually pretty common for some lesbians not to realize that they were, in fact, lesbians until they were married. I didn’t, however, tell her that it went against every ounce of moral fiber within me to be married to someone and be dating/engaged to another woman on the side. The entire night I was just aching to speak to Matt about it, but I didn’t. Maybe I should have pulled him aside and discussed it … but I didn’t. I never told him that I knew about this, but somehow, deep inside, I knew … I knew that he knew she’d told me, and there was this mutual understanding of each other all night … and I caught a lot of stares from him and smiles, to boot. But we did have fun, I thought. Strange how a couple of young folks like us could actually have more fun with a dictionary than with a case of beer and a bonfire … Then again, maybe what I feel for him is just me confusing infatuation with the feeling of good friendship - as I have been known to do in the past? Why is it … that every time I think I’ve met a soulmate … they’re otherwise taken? Lindsay had Anthony. Rose had James. Matt had Sarah. Guess I really am cursed. … or maybe I should just … pray for a divorce? Sigh. Help?