Remember when you were in grammar school and all the kids had to choose teams for a game of afternoon kickball, only you were one of the last ones picked? Suddenly it was as if the entire world had conspired against you and the realization that you weren't "one of them" was a reality.

I felt the same way when I saw Steve across the hallway at Greystone. I froze, wondering if by chance I was having some kind of bizarre hallucination. I continued to stare with my frozen gaze, when he looked up, opening a door into the rec room.

I quickly looked the other way--- not wanting him to see me. Why didn't anyone tell me that Steve was incarcerated? Not a single friend of mine from Mocha Daze--- Drew, Eric, Fran, Greg, or Hillary--- had bothered to tell me. Suddenly, I felt like the last one on the kickball team.

I talked to Patricia Warring about Steve's case, learning he was here for a 4 week stay as part of his bargaining agreement with the DA. She found it ironic that the two of us were here at the same time and touted that perhaps "it was no coincidence." Great, I thought, a Director with a new age spin for mental health. Not that that was bad, but perhaps it was just that--- a coincidence, nothing more; nothing less.

But as I drove home, I felt the anger rising inside of me like a volcano beginning to burst. Am I that much out of the loop that my group of friends don't tell me what's going on? And I know the reason is as simple as it is hard to understand.

Because I'm straight.

People talk about homophobia but, let me tell you, there IS such a thing as heterophobia. I understand gay people wanting to relate to their own kind, but in large urban areas such as Los Angeles, entire ghettoized communities can survive without any real relation to other communities. This includes those of a different sexual orientation.

With the anger swelling inside, I decided to call a spade a spade and stop by Mocha Daze.

Hillary was running around the busy interior, trying to manage her son's café to the best of her ability. I looked at her and could see Hugo. His big hairy forearms stocking beans and cups sometime ago were now replaced with Hillary's shaved and smaller limbs. Still man-like, but moving with greater fluidity and, well, more like a woman.

Sitting at the coffee bar was Greg, doing some sketches on a small pad and nursing an endless cup of decaf. I stepped forward, Hillary looking up.

"Oh my goodness, Mikey, how are you sweetie?"

Greg looked up, a smile suddenly filling his face as he reached forward and shook my hand. "Hey, guy." He said.

I'm always amazed at the male talk of men. How we all call each other Guy, Man, Buddie, Dude, or Sir. Men, gay or straight, and intimacy are like oil and water. They DON'T mix.

"Hi," I responded, Hillary putting a non-foam latte in front of me.

"On the house." She responded.

"Uh..." I said, suddenly confused. How could I vent at someone who knew me so well? I came here for a reason, and the reason was very simple. Am I still a friend?

"Thanks, Hillary."

"Mike?" Said the female voice behind me. I turned, seeing Fran, embracing me with a hug. "This is a nice surprise. What brings you to the Daze?" She asked, crossing to the bar and joining Greg.

"I started a job at Greystone." I looked over at Hillary. "The mental health clinic. Steve is there. Did you know that?"

There was an impressive lull that lingered a tad too long.

"Yes," Said Fran, "We knew."

"Do I matter anymore to you? I mean, why didn't anyone call me to let me know what was up?"

Greg sat up in his chair, "I...uh...well, I suppose the truth is Mike...is that we just don't see that much of you anymore."

I could contain my anger no more. "That might be true, but let's face it. I'm usually not on the speed dial. And that's cool. I understand. I'm not gay, I'm not in the circle. But when I saw Steve today, I realized just how out of the loop I truly am. Would it be easier for you to stay in contact with me if I was gay?"

"Mike," said Hillary, "It has nothing to do with you being straight."

"Then what is it?" I asked.

Another lull.

"No," voiced Fran. "I admit it, you're not the first person I call. We have our history, some of it good, some of it pretty shitty, but the bottom line, there was awhile there that you were so busy, you just weren't around. You had your legal issues and that weird affair with that chick. It takes two to tango and let's face it, you haven't been showing up either."

"That might be true, but all I'm saying is let me know what's going on. Make the effort. I count, don't I?"

The wall of faces stared me down and I realized while I may have sounded like some kind of spoiled brat, it was getting through. Sometimes being straight can be a real challenge.