“I haven’t been coming to meetings regularly, but I’ve been sexually sober for over a year now and am thankful for so many people in my life.”

The room of gay men are silent, faces staring up at me.

“The reason I came here tonight is because I’m about to start a new job where I will be forced to deal with men on a professional level of which I’m not used to. Basically, gay athletes. I am in a committed relationship, which, I would never violate again but needless to say, I came here tonight for courage and support in hopes of understanding my own fear and guilt. Bottom line, I’m scared to death.” I couldn’t help but laugh. A few snickers bellow from below. “One day at a time,” I state, stepping down from the podium.

The room fills with applause and surprisingly through my fear and my angst, I feel better. A stranger’s reassuring pat on my shoulder calms my nerves.

During break, I meander to the coffee pot and pour myself another cup of black goo. Starbucks it ain’t but it fulfills the need inside for that bitter sweet taste of warmth. I add the non-dairy creamer and look at the community bulletin board filled with want-ads, apartment rentals, theatre announcements, and entrepreneurial opportunities. As I look at a flyer that promises $1000 week by working at home, I notice in the metal bulletin board frame the reflection of a man behind me.

“$1000 a week stuffing envelopes?” His voice asks.

I turn, and standing there behind me is an extremely attractive man in his mid-30’s.

His blue eyes hit me in my gut and his brown hair frames a chiseled jawline. He looks past me at the bulletin board. “Hey look at this ad, ‘Pet grooming in the nude.’” He laughs to himself again and I’m suddenly intrigued.

“I’m Erik,” I state, putting my hand out.

“Raymond.”

His handshake is firm. “I like what you said about being ‘scared to death’ in your new job. I work at a fitness club and I thought for sure I wouldn’t be able to handle it, but I’ve managed.”

“How?”

“You turn it around. It’s like an AA bartender. It’s so close, so in your face, that it no longer holds the mystery or the appeal. What’s cool is that the other stuff– the monogamy, the relationship–THAT becomes more intriguing. However, not that I would know since I’m eternally single.”

“You’re single?”

He looked at me and laughed. Suddenly, I felt embarrassed. “Wait–that didn’t come out right. What I meant to say was that…well…that you seem nice.”

Jesus, Eric! Insert foot into mouth. Nice? Did I really say that?

Raymond was kind enough to motion he understood what I was trying to say. “Yes, I am single but looking.”

A twang hit me in my gut and I realized this man was giving me butterflies. Was he just being kind or was he, dare I say it in a Sexual Compulsives Anonymous meeting, hitting on me?

“See you inside.”

And as he turned around to leave the room, I couldn’t help but notice his compact frame, buzzed neck line, and a nice rounded butt. I knew I was breaking a cardinal rule of never cruising or being attracted in a SCA meeting, but the knots in my stomach couldn’t be ignored.

Arriving at home later, I could hear Drew listening and chanting to his Path of Glory spiritual bullshit tape in the den. “How was your meeting?”

I put my things down and crossed to the kitchen. “Fine. I’m starving. Have you eaten?”

“Yes,” yelled his voice from the other room. “There’s herb chicken and Japanese vegetables on the stove.”

I opened the pan and a wave of garlic and seasonings excited my appetite. For a quick moment, I stopped myself before I pondered if Raymond knew how to cook.