I had a friend in high-school who was my first best-friend.  We spent all of our free time together.  For the first time in my life, I felt loved and accepted for who I was. This was an exciting time for me.  I grew close to this friend and to her family.  There were times soon after my parents’ divorce that I didn’t go home for days, spending more and more time at my friend’s house.  We were not in a lesbian relationship, but when my mom asked me if my friend and I were homosexually involved, I had to admit to myself that I wished we were.  If we were a “couple,” then she would never leave me and I would always feel the thrill of having someone truly care about me and value me as a person.

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I met ‘Greg’ in high school through the drama team. He just came up to me one day and asked me to make him laugh, so I did. We were pretty much inseparable from then on.It was rare for me to find another guy with the same sense of humor, the same taste in movies and hobbies, so being together was really fun. And we hung out a lot. I always enjoyed spending time with Greg, so much so that I thought about him whenever I wasn’t with him. Whatever I got involved in, I thought of ways to get him involved, too.

We ended up going to the same college and taking a lot of classes together. As we drifted away from our high school friends, we got even closer. He was a really affectionate guy who had no problem hugging me, and sometimes we even wrestled around together. He was so considerate, calling me often and giving me silly little gifts or messages.

There was a down side to this seemingly fulfilling friendship, though. No matter how loving Greg was toward me, I always wanted more. Even if we spent a whole day together, for some reason I would go home at the end of it with a sort of frustrated, dissatisfied feeling. He was very social, and when I saw him laughing with other guys I felt jealous. I always worried, ‘What if he likes them more?’ (keep reading…)