We did. My overall impression of that year was that it was one of the most fulfilling and happy dating relationships I have ever had. Unfortunately, this timeframe included my Mother being diagnosed with several serious cardio-pulmonary health concerns. Ted was VERY supportive most of the time.

We attended the Gay Games in New York City that Summer. We had frequent poker parties with his brother and friends. We got along better in the bar situation than any other couple I knew of and we socialized with a wider variety of people than anyone else I had experienced. Oh yeah, did I mention that our physical relationship was WAY better than I had experienced to date?

The stress of my mother's illness and my distance began to take a toll. I would often be sad and Ted was frustrated that he couldn't do anything to make it better. This cycle usually resulted in arguments and the later in the year it got, the more frequent the short break-ups occurred.

I chose not to go home to see my Mother for the holidays because my brother, Bruce, could not make it. The brothers and I were going to pick a time early in the next year to convene so that we could all be together one last time.

January rolled around. Ted and I bowled together on a Wednesday night league. One Wednesday night, Ted's Mother was in town to visit with friends of hers and invited Ted to dinner with her. He had to decline because of the bowling conflict. Following bowling that evening we had another of our break-ups and he went home upset. As usually happened after one of our breakups one of us called the other and asked to do something sociable… the response to which was usually - sure, why not. This time it was Ted that made the call. We planned to go to a movie that day after work. I got home and took care of dog duties, then I received THE call. Ted was crying uncontrollably, so I just said I'd be right over. He lived a whole 2 blocks away (did I mention that he helped me find that house?). When I arrived at his place, it took a few minutes for me to understand what had happened. His mother had gone home the night before and went to bed not feeling well. When his father tried to wake her up the next morning, she had passed away.

This was obviously no time to remind Ted that we had broken up, so I did the right thing and helped in any way I could. I attended the weekend of mourning as if I was a full-fledged member of the family. I even shuttled one of the out-of-state siblings from the airport in Madison to their small town.

The sorrow of that weekend made it necessary for me to schedule my trip home to see my Mother. I was afraid I would miss my chance. I flew home on Friday of that next week. The trip was supposed to be a surprise, but my brother blew my cover the night before. The 17-year-old sheltie I had left with Mother had died that morning and she needed some consolation.

I handled the return trip to Madison very poorly. I couldn't bear the idea of continuing to break up every few weeks and Ted went right back into dysfunctional boyfriend mode. I let that go for a week or so and then had "the talk" with him. This became the day that I broke up with him RIGHT AFTER HIS MOM Passed away. I am evil incarnate.

The next few months were not particularly stress-free. Not only was I alone in Madison for the first time since moving here 4.5 years before, but I was on pins and needles about the impending death of my mother AND I was donating sperm to a lesbian couple.

There was no serious dating going on. A few short encounters (of a couple weeks or less), but nothing that was pleasant. Mother passed away in April and I did my best to survive that and my return to Madison. The summer is mostly a blur. I dated no one. In the Fall I began to consider the possibility. Enter Grant. When I first met him, he was dating someone living two houses away from me. He was always very friendly and we occasionally chatted when we saw one another out at the bar. After the beginning of the next year I learned that he and my neighbor were no longer dating and that he was interested in trying a date or two… The short side of this story is that we did and I ended up putting my house on the market the following Fall and moving into his house that September. This marks the longest period of single-ness I had experienced since my first experience in Birmingham 5 years prior.

Grant and I got along really well for much of our time together. He spent much of his weekdays at his company's Chicago office and we dedicated weekends to us. It was somewhat rare that he was in town on weekdays, but when he was, we had some of the most comfortable routines I can recall of any of my relationships. One of us would cook dinner and we'd sit in the kitchen doing the TV Guide crossword puzzle before during and after that meal. After that, he would retire to the basement to watch TV and I would go chat on the PC.

Separation seemed to be the theme of this relationship. If it wasn't him spending weekdays in Chicago, it was 6 weeks in Tel Aviv learning a new system his company bought. THAT particular separation paid dividends for me. The company paid the equivalent of a two-way ticket to Tel Aviv for me to join him WHEREVER we chose. That two-way tickets paid for my entire airfare and most of the hotel costs for our 10-day trip to Australia. A trip I might never have been able to take if it had not been for their generosity.

The grind of the Chicago commute began to wear though. When he returned from Australia, the Chicago commute was EVERY week, not just sporadic. He became more and more unhappy with the work. That lasted through the end of that year (April through December) and ended in him accepting an ill-fated consulting job that lost its contract the Friday before he was to begin on Monday. He was able to negotiate a temporary stay from the former company, but as a contractor. The job hunt was on. Turns out his particular skills are much more in demand Everywhere but Madison. He took a job in Charlotte, NC, with me promising that I would at least ATTEMPT to look there for relocation opportunities.

That was not to be. My skills were not so much in demand there and I stayed behind trying to sell the house we had just improved with a $17,000 kitchen. It took more than 6 months to sell the house by which time the relationship had ended, as had another chapter in my life. Leaving Grant in North Carolina after driving with him on his move was one of the most difficult things I have ever done. I felt like I was leaving an innocent among the wolves. To this day, I sometimes regret that whole time.

The summer following Grant's move was one of the loneliest times in my life. I tried to fill the void with various relationships (not really the right term, but you get the drift). I went to Dallas on my own two weekends before Southern Decadence and then attended Southern Decadence solo for the first time.

In some ways that trip to Decadence was one of my wildest and in others it proved to be pretty standard for me. The end result was longer lasting friendships than most people make at such events. Of the 6 people I "met" that weekend, two visited within 2 months following the event. One of them I now count among my true loves.

Just prior to going to Decadence I moved out of the house that finally sold and into an apartment with a new friend, Bart. Bart and I had met through a work gathering and he was looking to get a larger place as I was looking to get a place. The roommate situation started out ok, but we both admit now that we were not compatible as roommates. We ended up resenting one another so much that we barely spoke for the last few months of that year. Luckily he kept busy with extracurricular activities and I lived much of my time in my half of the apartment.

One of my Decadence "friends," Vern, came to visit for Halloween. He rented a limo for the evening and a good time was had by all :) Vern likes men, let's leave it at that. He and Bart got along famously. Vern hasn't visited again since, but I hear from him on occasion.

The following weekend, the first of November, Bosco visited. It was a great weekend. We celebrated his birthday and generally had a great time.

Thanksgiving Day as I was preparing to go to dinner at a restaurant with my friend, Lezlie, I got a phone call from Bosco asking what I was doing that afternoon. I sensed something in his voice and said "picking you up at the airport?" On a whim, he bought a cheap ticket and came for the weekend. Things were getting close fast. After the Thanksgiving visit, I made plans to go to Louisiana for Christmas. I spent the first week with Bosco in New Orleans, then drove North to visit family for Christmas Day, then back to Bosco's for New Years week. As it happens, there was a bad snowstorm that blew through Chicago on the day I was to return and I had to extend the trip an extra 5 days - and I wasn't complaining.

This started a trend of seeing one another every three weeks, alternating between Madison and New Orleans. Bosco's first WINTER visit included my second donation of sperm to the "moms." I had mentioned to him that I had donated before and that I was considering doing it again. Unfortunately, I didn't tell him it would be that weekend and he had been hoping to have a discussion with me about it. I sprung the news on him the day he arrived and only hours before the "sperm carriers" were to arrive in the snowstorm to pick up the donation.

I remember the series of events something like this. "Bosco, I've decided to donate again and today happens to be the right day for that." I suggested that he help with the procedure and he complied… As the donation emerged… and the doorbell rang, Bosco burst out into tears. I was busily trying to get the donation cup closed, robe on and out into the living room before Bart had a chance to scare the lesbians away while trying to console Bosco and figure out what was wrong. Turns out his Catholic upbringing was colliding with the idea of being an absentee father (out of wedlock and all.)

We weathered this storm and began making plans for a more permanent, less long distance relationship. The date kept getting put off as he prepared his business to be run by a manager in his absence. Eventually, he agreed to rent an apartment with me as my lease with Bart expired. That was a stressful experience that involved moving twice in a month's time. When I was settled, I realized that he was still going home an awful lot and somehow hadn't bothered to move anything North except clothing. No vehicle, no furniture. Hmmm, something was wrong with that picture. Unfortunately, I couldn't get him to tell me what the problem was and I obsessed and nagged him over it for the remaining year of our relationship

He never did move any more substantial items to Wisconsin. I ran out of patience and in June - following a miserable trip to Disney Gay Days, I told him it had to end. Since we were still truly in love and close emotionally, it was easy to postpone the "move" date until the end of the lease at this apartment. I found a different apartment and he stayed on long enough to help me move and get settled.

He officially moved back to Louisiana (not much to carry) in late September, early October.

Toward the middle of October Bosco announced that he needed to talk to me. He was ready to explain his non-committal behavior. He planned to fly in on my Birthday, but didn't want to "ruin" my day by talking about it on that date… yeah, right! He took me to dinner at Perkins and we went home where he explained the thing that had made him hesitant (unwilling) to make more of a commitment. At first, I imagined that this put me in the "care taking" position of having to "fix" the problem. With the help of my BEST EVER counselor - Mare Chapman, I was able to help him make some steps in the right direction, but not take ownership of the "fix" myself. He was on his way back to Louisiana the next week. I descended into the deepest depression I have experienced.

Working my way out of the fog...