Stuart and I were sitting in the waiting room in Dr. Sharpe’s office. He kept trying to take my hands in his. I knew that he was merely trying to give me some consolation, and that there was nothing sexual intended, but I kept pulling away from him. His distress was increasing and his eyes were swelling up again. Poor guy. I tried to be nicer, but the thought of physical contact with this gay man (no matter how much I liked him) simply revolted me.
On the other hand, I kept flirting with