‘I’m okay.’ I said, barely managing to get the words out. I watched him, safe behind my sunglasses. He seemed unsure of himself. He kept fidgeti...g and fighting the desire to turn and look at me. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of silence, he turned to me and said, ‘Hi. I’m Michael.’ Simple words, but to me, some of the best I’d ever heard. ‘I know,’ I replied. ‘I recognized you from T.V. You’re Michael Phelps, the swimmer.’ I was amazed that I’d managed to keep my voice from going. Your aunt. The hooker down the street. The female lawyer in her office. The female senator on the senate floor. The librarian in your town. The policewoman in the squad car. Get the picture? I know that you wish it weren’t so. In all likelihood, you’re a decent guy. You work hard. You’re smart. You contribute energetically to society. You’d like to eventually meet a decent woman and have a family. That’s what men have been socially conditioned to look for. And men have held their part of the. Unless something different happens, it maybe our last. He is a nice looking man but I am not attracted to him atthe present. Saturday 8:00 P.M. I met Bob at a small restaurant in Spartanburg, PA. We had coffee andchatted for an hour. This was our third date. We had gone to the drive inthe week before and I learned I had to teach him to kiss a woman. He usedthe dive bomber technique which made any sensual feelings impossible. Wewent to a night club but Bob was sore from playing softball that ay. He also had a good mind and got straight "A" in high school. This was another reason the boys would mock him out of sheer jealousy. Now that he was in college he still found himself looking at the straight athletes with their great bodies all sweaty after practice. But he was too scared to approach anyone, remembering how brutal guys could be in high school. This is why he was shocked when one of the admired men on campus looked back at him and smiled. Maybe CC really was that man of his dreams.