As I looked around the room, I saw eyes staring me down that I knew I probably would never see again. There was Matt who was a father of 3, wealthy, a successful lawyer-- and a sex addict who was HIV+; Gloria, a lesbian who after losing her partner of 13 years to cancer found phone sex first as an alternative to intimacy and then as an addiction to regret; Michael, a man who at 35 was still a virgin and a compulsive masturbator; Michelle, a smart and ballsy woman who always gave comments with a smile, a stern hand, and a tasteless joke; and Hillary, a beautiful mother whose only son would have nothing to do with her because of her life as a prostitute and a sex worker.

After several weeks, these strangers were now my family. People considered throw away, people I judged as either sick, shameful, or wrong had made me laugh, cry, and love.

Guess what, I'm human. So as I stood in front of everyone, saying my good-byes, I realized that I was going to miss them and that...I was going to be alone. Yes, I would have Drew. But I would be alone, I would be without these friends.

"I just wanted to say..." I paused. "God, I hate it when people announce that they're about to say something instead of just saying that...I am a sexaholic. I know what I am capable of, I know what...my fear is. Of knowing the difference between feeling and acting out, of knowing my own self-worth. Thank you for helping me." And the tears began. "For making me realize I do matter, that I'm worth life and not pain. That I am capable of love."

And then I lost it. I reached over to Michael and he embraced me, "You're gonna be fine." he mumbled. I went through the circle, saying good-bye to faces I knew I would perhaps forget in the coming years, but acknowledged the priceless gifts and knowledge they had all given me.

"Here," said Hillary, handing me a card. "This is where you can reach me in Los Angeles. I know a great group that I think...you would get a lot out of."

I took her card, putting it in my pocket, and then in her eyes something strangely familiar struck me. The eyes looked old and gentle, as if a caring relative during a Christmas morning had just handed me a special gift. I embraced her, her strong arms enwrapping me.

*****

As I sat out in front of the complex, waiting for Eric to arrive, I leaned against my suitcase on the green grass, feeling the sun warm me.

For some bizarre reason, my mind flashed to war. I had gone to battle within myself and while I was still licking my wounds, I knew I had won.

I started to think about the journey of gay men and our life of constant fighting. From equal rights to our own struggle with self-worth. Not to mention AIDS. I do think in many ways those of us who have survived AIDS are battle scared-- similar to those men who fought in the Vietnam War and returned to a land of indifference and loss. While many people now accept the AIDS crisis, and many men have survived the long term effects of the disease with new medications, we're a community struggling to understand ourselves AND our battle wounds left behind by years of loss and death.

And then I saw him. My life partner Drew, pulling down the driveway, window open, his blonde curly hair moving in the breeze. I was thankful, I was happy, and I realized we are continuing.

We are alive.

In the pit of my stomach I was scared. Could I do this with him? Would I be able to use the weapons at my disposal to slay the demons that huddled in my soul and laid within my heart? I only hoped that my faith would be stronger than my fear in overcoming my sexual compulsiveness and disease.

"Hey," said Drew, smiling with a casual and beautiful smile that could only come from years of marriage. Here was the man that had seen me at my weakest; who had the courage not to run away from me and who was brave enough to confront the war that raged inside me.

We kissed. Gentle and loving, and then he helped me with my bags.

"How are you doing?" he asked.

"I'm winning."

He smiled, I guess he liked that answer. It was certainly better than the one I gave him several weeks ago when he dropped me off at this place. When I was out of control, before I understood the pain that my life, before I understood what men are capable of with their selfish needs to touch the innocent and shame them into fear.

I got in our car and as Drew drove down the driveway, I saw the sky in front of me. Blue with a few passing clouds of fog, moving inland. Was it the beginning of a fog bank? A rain shower? Or just a passing set of clouds?

It didn't matter. There were endless possibilities and for some reason, all of them excited me.