"I don't know, I guess it's hard to juggle that many at the same time. Besides I don't really like any of them except the one who ignores me."

"Oh I see, 'leave me alone or I'll find someone who will' right?"

"Something like that. Besides, you're one to talk, with your string of boys."

Ron's last boyfriend was reeled in at the "Detox" (our pet-name for the Detour) when he stood up on the railing of the sidebar above the heads in the crowd, put his hand up on his forehead like a pirate ship look-out and yelled, "Man HO!" The next thing I knew, there was this Gen-X boy all ga-ga over Daddy-Fix-It.

"I practice serial monogamy, honey. You've got seven at once!"

He was right. I was having trouble with my calendar, trying to be careful not to schedule more than one date on any given night. Besides that, I wasn't sure what I was feeling about any of them. Except, like I said, the one who seemed unable to commit in any way. I found that really annoying.

There were several words one just did not mention when starting to date someone. I called them the "C word," the "R word," the "B word," and especially the "L word" – for Commitment, Relationship, Boyfriend and Love. In the Castro of the early '90s, if you dared mention one of those words while on a date, you may as well forget ever seeing that guy again. Sometimes you couldn't even mention the word "date" or even make too much of a point of it being an arranged meeting at a certain time and place. You could perhaps "hook up with" or "catch" someone someplace, or "maybe run into" them if they "happen to be there." And maybe we could do this again sometime, or maybe we should just be friends, and maybe I'm not really looking for a boyfriend, and maybe you want too much, and maybe I'm not ready, and maybe our lifestyles are too different, and maybe, and maybe…

A lot of this attitude, of course, came from the self-protective shell that gay men had erected around their emotions because of the plague. They were afraid to feel, to let anyone in. Their hearts had been burdened, their spirits broken by too many deaths, too many losses. They had mourned until they could no longer feel anything. The pain was just too great for many men to dare let anyone get too close. Many were just unwilling, many unable, some just fucking with your mind or your heart, some oblivious, some didn't care, some jaded, some completely out of touch with their emotions, some hardened and mean, some out of control with drugs and alcohol, some acting out sexually, some unsafe, some desperate, some too needy, some assholes, some paranoid.

There were so many men in the Castro walking around alone, loneliness reeking out of their auras, unable to reach out to anyone, unable to look into your eyes. Being clean and sober allows you to learn to get in touch with your emotions and other people in a way that breaks down certain barriers. It's no longer easy to hide from your feelings when there isn't a substance to abuse. Not that any self-respecting sober queen doesn't find a new outlet in retail therapy, working out, credit card debt, overeating or computer equipment. Some habits are healthier than others.

I guess it was all too obvious to me during that time that there were lots of lonely people who just didn't know how to form close bonds anymore. I felt so lucky to have my "family" and to have a support group. It still didn't make "dating hell" any easier to live with.

I was determined not to fall into that trap, not to close off my feelings. I wanted to form a clear picture in my mind of what I deserved in a relationship and put it out to the universe, then just wait until it came back to me – in the form of my lover. I knew I needed to work on myself, to become comfortable with living alone and being in my own company. I had all my friends to run around with, but I was also learning to take care of myself in a way I hadn't known before. I could shop and cook meals, just for me. I could stay home and watch a movie, just with myself. It was OK that there was no one in my bed that night. I got choosier. I didn't settle. I let dates be what they were. I didn't try to make it more than it was. It was OK just to have a casual, fuck-buddy relationship with someone. I didn't have to be in love. Yeah, I didn't really need a lover. I could survive and be happy with just me.

I had spent so little time in my life living alone and getting to know and love myself. I went from living with my parents to living with a lover, then a roommate, then several roommates, then another lover, then a roommate, then another lover. Maybe it was finally time to just accept being by myself.

Famous last words.