Like a married father of four who makes excuses for late night market runs, then spends the stolen time lurking in truck stop restrooms, I’ve been living a lie. “Gotta grab some milk,” I shout on my way out the door. Then it’s straight to the proverbial glory hole. Crouching in the shadows, heart beating wildly. Hoping against hope I don’t run into someone I know. Secretly yearning for the day I will.
I’m trapped in a web of dishonesty and dissembling. I’ve long lacked the confidence to face my own proclivities.