3 February 2012

photo-7(Note: These are initial notes for my book. This is very rough, first-draft material. How writers work. It embarrasses me to publish this, because it’s so raw. But the purpose of this project is to be real and open and not hold back. Just keep in mind that it’s rough.)

Here’s a moment:

An August morning, the air condition providing us with the only cooling. You say, “I love you” as you leave my apartment after a random reunion night together.

(It’s the last time I saw you.)

It’s also the week before you meet your wife & three months before I meet my husband.

Letting you leave. Letting that August day consume you — who knows what else I did that day? — Changed my life forever.

There is no turning back, no walking — running — down the stairs after you into the daylight, screaming don’t leave. Saying I love you, too. There is only silence. Maybe the words See you later.

I never did.

I met S on a dance floor in Iowa City. It was sloppy — black & white tiles filled with beer spills & bumping & grinding that would make most of. He was wearing a red hat. (from ____)

Our relationship went like most did at a Big Ten college school in the mid-90s — it wasn’t. It was what we called a mack, plain & simple.

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