“You gonna see him again?”

“Probably not,” I lie, and I have no idea why. Why am I doing this? It’s Candace. She would never judge me; I know this. Why am I acting like such a pussy about this?

Snapping me out of my self-destructive thoughts, she says, “We’re hopeless, huh?”

I hear her giggle under her breath when I kiss the top of her head and agree. “Totally hopeless.”

Lacing her fingers with mine over the top of my hand, she sighs as she softens into me. I lie there in her bed, listening to her breathing slowly leveling out as she drifts off to sleep. Emotions begin to well up inside of me as I try and sort through my thoughts.

I like Mark, there is no doubt about that, but the anxiety I’ve had since we started spending more time together is stirring up this shame I thought I had let go of. I’ve been fine just playing the field and having fun, not bothering to question myself or what this all really means. This is almost too much for me to deal with. I thought that maybe I was ready for this; I thought I knew who I was, but it turns out, I’m still confused as shit.

Tossing my gym bag into the back of my SUV, I text Mark when I hop in and shut the door.

On my way.

After the other night, Mark had called and wanted to hit the gym with me. I probably shouldn’t have agreed; I know he wants something more than what I think I’m able to give him—what I know I’m not able to give him. But I can’t help the feelings that overwhelm me every time I talk to him, or hell, even think about him. So when he called and suggested getting together, I couldn’t say no.

Hey, I’m running late. Meet me at my house and we can ride together. Kyle is home.

Okay. See you in a bit.

When I arrive at Mark’s house, Kyle answers the door and lets me in.

“Hey, man. Mark just called and said he was on his way.”

“Oh, okay,” I say as I follow him into the living room. “What are you up to today?”

“Nothing really. Just hanging out, watching TV,” he says as he picks up his beer from the coffee table and sits back on the couch.

I sit down next to him as he starts flipping through the channels and asks, “What are you guys going to go do?”

“Gonna hit the gym for a couple hours.”

Taking a swig of his beer, he stays focused on the TV when he asks, “So you guys dating?”

“No,” I answer way too quickly. God, why can’t I face this? Why can’t I just be comfortable enough to say yes?

Tipping his head to look at me, he smirks and repeats, “No?”

I know that look. I give that look. A lot. When his eyes shift to my mouth, I suddenly feel like I’m back in my all-too-familiar territory, so I maintain, “No,” with a slight shake of my head.

Meeting my eyes again, I know what he’s thinking. Knowing Mark is on his way home, and as much as I like him, these feelings I’m starting to have for him bring up all the shit I don’t like to think about. Being numb and emotionless with guys is just easier, so I take this bait as an easy out from my conflicting situation with Mark. When Kyle leans in, I take the rope he is offering and hang myself.

I kiss him.

Grabbing his face with my hands, I tangle my lips with his, knowing that once Mark walks through that door it will all be over, and I can bury this self-hatred that only he has been able to dig up.

There is nothing behind this kiss aside from pure destruction. I feel sick to my stomach, and when Kyle thrusts his tongue in my mouth, I’m consumed with guilt. But I don’t stop. Instead, I push him down and hover over him. He’s running his hand up my shirt, and I don’t stop kissing him when I hear the door open. My stomach sinks when Mark’s voice pulls Kyle away from me.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“Shit, man,” Kyle says as he jumps off the couch.

I know what I’ve done, and really, there is nothing I can say. So I don’t speak. I get off the couch and walk to the kitchen to get my car keys.

“You’re not gonna say anything?” Mark questions as I walk past him. He’s visibly pissed, just as I expected. He isn’t like me; I know that.

Grabbing my keys, I walk to the door as he persists, “Jase! What the hell, man?”

I can’t fuckin’ look at him. I feel like complete ass for what I just did, but I’m a coward. He doesn’t deserve it; he’s better off without me anyway, so I leave. I walk out the door and straight to my car without ever looking back at him. I hate myself for this. All that anguish I’ve been hiding so well finally surfaces, and I fuckin’ lose it. The tears that are blurring my eyes spill over, and I slam my fists into the steering wheel as I speed back to my apartment. I can’t even begin to sort my thoughts out. Hopeless—Candace said it the other night, and I couldn’t agree more right now. Why can’t this be easy? Why do I have to be this way? I can’t stand this shit.

I hate that I just hurt Mark. The first guy—the only guy—that I’ve ever had real feelings for and I destroyed it before I gave it a chance. What the hell is wrong with me? Trying to understand why I hate myself so much is ever consuming, and I honestly don’t think I am strong enough to handle the reality of it. So I let the animosity eat at my flesh, right down to my bones.

When I walk into my apartment, I get a beer and go lie down in my bed. My phone chimes, and I’m scared to look at the text message that I’m sure is from Mark. Reaching over, I pick it up and swipe the screen. I sigh in relief when I see it’s from Candace.

Getting off work soon. Can I stop by later?

Feeling like a total dick, I don’t want to see anyone right now. I love her, but I can’t talk to her. I can barely stand being in the presence of my own thoughts. Here I believed, for the past three years, that I’ve been an openly gay man, but truth is, I’m still hiding. I didn’t see it until Mark came along. He made me realize just how scared of these feelings I actually am. I don’t want a relationship with him because I’m afraid that will make it too real for me. Define me. Gay. Fag. Queer. Fuck. Am I ready for that?

Is this the life that I’m meant to have? No woman? No wife? Immediately, I know that it is. I have never been attracted to women the way I have always been to men. I know I could never have those feelings for a girl. I’ve only ever wanted guys. It seems so easy for Mark to be who he is, as if it doesn’t even phase him. Doesn’t even bother him. I wonder if it ever has.

I pick up my beer and down it. Getting up, I walk back to the kitchen and just grab the whole pack and bring it back into my bedroom. I open another bottle before finally texting Candace back.

I’m out. Maybe tomorrow?

I can’t deal with this right now. I have no idea what I’m doing and feel more confused than ever. Lost.

“Can I get my tab, man?” I ask as one of the bartenders passes by.

Moping around my apartment after what I did to Mark this afternoon was driving me crazy, so I decided to walk to 9 Million, a local bar in my neighborhood. It’s getting late, and I’m about to hit my limit with alcohol.

Sitting here alone, trying to think about anything other than what a total dick I am has proven to be harder than what I was hoping. What the hell is wrong with me? I’m sick of the self-pity, wondering why I have to deal with all of this. Why can’t my life just be simple—simple choices. Hell, who am I even kidding? I know this isn’t a choice. I wish it were. None of this would even be an issue if I were just straight. Maybe I was better off just being numb, taking what I wanted from guys and not having to worry about what it all means for me.