Joe and I moved to Madison on that fortuitous weekend I described earlier - 17-inch snowfall and all.

I learned a LOT:

• I learned that Vaseline is the perfect antidote to drying and cracking dashboards. He told me so, so it must be true. He kept a LARGE tub of the stuff in his truck expressly for that purpose. Unfortunately, he must not have started using it early enough to prevent the serious alligatoring of his dash.
• I learned that hanging out at the cruisy park with a 6 pack of beer in the late afternoon is a fully acceptable relaxation mechanism.
• I learned that having a DUI conviction in a different state results in restrictions being placed on your license when you move to Wisconsin.
• I learned that bankruptcy does, indeed, protect the stupid… The Mitsubishi pickup truck with the Auburn Eagle painted on its hood was worth approximately half of what Joe owed on it.
• I learned that some people are REALLY good at denial (me) and that some other people are really good at lying (him.)

When the 9-month lease was up at our first apartment, we bought my first house. I won't go into what I learned about real estate brokers in this process, nor will I go into what I learned about home inspections and their importance. Suffice it to say these were EXPENSIVE lessons. A little less than a year after moving into the house, I was convinced that Joe was probably a bad influence on me and my sanity and I asked him to move on. There is, of course, a LOT more to this part of the story, but I'll leave that for a more personal conversation if you're interested.

I moved Joe out of the house on the first Saturday of August 1992. Not being one for taking things slowly, I went out to Rod's that evening with my friends Leroy and Artie (a rare bar appearance for either of them - they were taking care of John). It was the first night of the Mr/Ms Madison Leather competition and I had a VERY nice time. Moments after arriving I got bold and asked a bartender friend of mine who the guy at the entry gate was. He was a tall Nordic looking guy with no shirt, furry chest and wearing a hard hat (theme of the evening.) In response, the bartender called Schil (another fake name, but only barely) over to introduce him to his friend, John (that's me).

I'm sure it didn't happen EXACTLY this way, but it SEEMS as though Schil moved in immediately. I'm sure it was at least a week later, but it just doesn't seem like there was that much of a break. Most of that following year was one big roller coaster ride. I tried to pretend like I didn't mind him being distant and aloof and he pretended he didn't mind that I was present in my own house. It was not unusual for us to go out and not see one another until it was time to get back in the car to go home. I never felt welcome standing near him in that environment.

One of the more memorable incidents during this period was following one of our "off again" times. Schil had made plans months before to join me at the end of a work conference in New Orleans. We were not together, but the plans were made and he is a fairly persuasive individual - especially to me - then. He came down to New Orleans just in time to experience me with a full-blown cold. I timed the cold better than most of my co-workers. I got it the last day of the conference and managed to get over it in time for the Mardi Gras ball that Schil and I had been invited to. To his credit, I remember clearly that the first night he was in town, he passed up the opportunity to cruise the streets of New Orleans without me to stay in the hotel room and babysit his sick ex.

The Mardi Gras ball was a blast (tuxes and all) and the trek through the crowds on Bourbon Street afterward was a once-in-a-lifetime experience (I won't repeat that). The events of the rest of the evening were pretty memorable as well. Schil didn't like me being my "party" self. So much so that when he finally got me to consider walking back toward our hotel, we ended up stopping on Canal Street, sitting down on the sidewalk and talking until nearly 7am. The result was 4 months of very happy times. We returned to Madison and got along famously as best friends for quite a while. It was MUCH more like best friends, though and that began to wear on my ego/self-esteem.

Having a platonic relationship (did I mention that the time with Joe was mostly platonic too?) was not working for me toward the end of that summer. I couldn't figure out why it had turned the way it was and the pleasant absence of bar time was disappearing. (In other words, we began to frequent the bar together as a couple - after several months' hiatus).

As was becoming my practice, I ended it with Schil and we began the difficult process of living together as friends. I moved into the extra bedroom on the single bed. In the beginning, he continued to act as if we were together, inviting me to every occasion he attended, etc.

One such occasion was a birthday party for one of his friends. I wasn't all that comfortable being out in public with him - especially with the impression that left with everyone else. At any rate, I went with him and tried to stay in other parts of the house. I ended up spending a considerable amount of time on the back porch with the beer keg. The keg wasn't the primary attraction on the back porch, it was the person manning the keg - we'll call him Ted.

Ted and I were having a lot of fun conversing with the itinerant back porch crowd. When the time came for the party to move to the bar, I offered Ted a ride in Schil's car. The look I got in the rearview mirror was one I didn't remember seeing before - scary. Within a few moments of arriving at the bar, Ted had disappeared. I found him a while later and learned that he had been told in no uncertain terms that he should stay away from me. He had heard that Schil and I were not really separated and that I couldn't be trusted. Color me RED.

That incident taught me that going out in Madison while Schil still lived with me would be not only unproductive, but also detrimental to my sanity and emotional well being. I began leaving town on weekend nights when I wasn't working on fixing up the house for sale. Sale being the only way I could imagine getting him out of the house. Did I mention he was a strong personality?

My weekends included trips to Milwaukee, Chicago, Minneapolis, etc. On occasional Wednesday nights I would go out with the bowling team, but even those excursions became stressful. Thanksgiving that year I went to Chicago to visit my friend, Kevin. I learned later that Thanksgiving weekend is not a time to leave town - WAY too much happens.

I managed to get the house in order toward the end of October and it was officially on the market in November. The second person to see it made a full price offer with minimal contingencies. I only lost about $20,000 in the sale and at this point, I considered it quite the deal. Not only did I sell the house, I finally got my independence from Schil. OR so I thought.

I scheduled the moving truck for the first Saturday in December. In the meantime, I had not forgotten the beer keg guy, Ted. A mutual friend of ours had been hinting that Ted was interested in getting to know me better if I ever solved the Schil problem. Not being one to sit back and wait for my opportunities, I bought tickets to the Saturday night performance of Koko Taylor. Once tickets were in hand, I used the phone number that the mutual friend had shared and asked Ted what sort of music he liked. The answer was Blues and I decided it must have been Kismet… or Fate… or whatever it is you believe in. He eagerly accepted my invitation to the concert and I was on cloud nine. That was Friday afternoon.

Schil's usual routine could not be disturbed by the simple fact that he was moving the next morning, so he left the house at his usual 10pm and was out for the night. I usually lay awake until 3am or so when he came home - lingering feelings, etc. I just couldn't sleep until he was home in the next room. This had often been the time of our greatest fights - or of my greatest solo crying fits.

At any rate, he went out. At the same time in a different place, Ted was being invited to an after-bar party at the scene of the first meeting - the birthday boy's house. When he was asked to come out and go to the party, he declined and explained that he had a date the next night and didn't want to be exhausted. He also had to explain whom the date was with… At 3am Saturday morning as I'm lying awake, Schil arrives home and breaks his usual pattern. There was a knock on my bedroom door and the door opened.

"So, I hear you have a date."

"What business is it of yours?" I replied.

"Well, I just want you to know how awful my evening was." He had had a very bad evening out. His two friends, Lon and Gary, were not well and everyone was asking about them. He didn't want to learn that his ex-boyfriend was going on a date the same evening I was moving him into his new place. His next comment was a big one.

"I just wanted you to know he's a lousy ____."

It seems that Schil had met Ted out at the bar the weekend I went to Chicago for Thanksgiving. Ted had just passed his oral exams to get accepted into a graduate program at UW-Madison. His celebration of choice was to drink. Schil and Ted came back to my place.

I was NOT a happy camper. When I was stressed, I would take a fast drive on the highway between Madison and Sauk City. I jumped in my Ford Ranger and headed for Sauk City (yes, it was 3:30am). The drive usually took 45 minutes at the most - each way. I arrived home - still very upset by 5:30am. I couldn't think of anything else to do but … Call my mother.

This was the first such conversation I had ever had with my Mother. We had never discussed any of my partners explicitly - nor had we ever discussed my orientation. She was the consummate social worker/mother combination. Her advice: "You can do without men. I have. You can always move home to me if things get too bad. That was EXACTLY what I needed to hear. I perked right up and decided that I would, indeed, keep my date with Ted and give him a chance to offer his side of the story.

First things first… I went to get the Uhaul and moved Schil out of my house for good.

That next evening stands out in my memory as one of my happiest. I picked Ted up for dinner prior to the concert. We went to the Café Palms. Before we were even served drinks, he told me he had something he needed to tell me. He told his side of the story (which I later learned included the use of the single sized bed in MY room - not the queen sized bed in Schil's room) and I put it into the perspective where it belonged - NONE of my business. Ted was interested in getting to know me and he wanted to take things slowly.

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