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There’s a little patch of Band-Aid on my arm where my blood was taken for the AIDS antibody test. Perhaps in as early as a week, I’ll know if I’ve been exposed to the AIDS virus. Dr. Rundle, the gay doctor I went to, told me to sign a fictitious name to the consent form. I signed it “William F. Buckley, Jr.”
I got in a few hours’ sleep, and in the morning we made love. Am I an insensitive oaf, playing with Ronna’s feelings? There can never be any future for us because of my gayness, and I’ve never led Ronna to believe anything else – yet I feel guilty because I’m afraid that her feelings for me will lead her to get hurt.
It’s past midnight. Justin just left. For the past couple of weeks, I’ve had thoughts of getting involved sexually with him, but tonight I realized that I’m not really attracted to Justin and that there should be something more important in a relationship than mere availability. It didn’t feel right, and I trust my instincts.