I text Eduardo, he agrees to go to dinner. I’m totally excited. I don’t tell William and I hope Eduardo doesn’t want to go to any gay bars, least I get caught by William (I’m on double secret probation).

He’s late, he went home to change clothes. He finally shows up at the hip restaurant I’ve picked. I’m totally nervous. I can barely speak. We get escorted to a great private table. Well … Eduardo begins, tell me about yourself. Boy, did I, concluding with "and this is the point where it’s acceptable for you to run for the nearest fire exit screaming". He laughs, I start to relax.

I’m not a good judge of people’s age, but Eduardo is 25, for those math challenged, that’s a 21 year difference between me and him. I should be chasing his father instead, but then I remember I still ride the Razor scooter around the office hallways, so I’m nothing more than a big kid. Four hours later, we’re still in the restaurant talking and having a good time. I realize that despite the age gap, we have a bunch of common interests.

Eduardo goes quiet and I stare into his beautiful brown eyes. "Are you a good kisser?", he asks. What? I think so, Iowa State National Champion two years in a row. He leans over. I lean in. We kiss in the middle of the restaurant. The waitress suddenly appears, "you two make a cute couple". Thanks! I can’t see straight (no pun intended).

We leave and walk the short distance to his apartment. He’s not inviting me up. I don’t want to up actually. What followed was a great makeout session in a building entry way. The whole world tuned out. It wasn’t just physical heat, it was warmth and caring from my point.

An hour later, it’s midnight, school night, I need to get home, I walk away (or rather float away). My phone is ringing. My wife. Are you done with your gay night out? Are you coming home? The rubberband reality of my life snaps back into place.