About a month after I had come out to my best friend, I turned twenty-one. I thought of this as a milestone- that more than just being able to drink legally here, I was suddenly aware of how old I was. I felt as though I'd wasted the previous twenty-one years, never having lived my life as myself, never opening up enough to anyone to let them know who I really am. I still guard myself, fending off other's attempts to break past my defenses and into my emotions. I'm not sure why exactly; I think I'm afraid of being hurt. But I'm equally afraid of being lonely, which may be what allows me to reach out even to the limited extent that I do.

After a night of heavy drinking, courtesy of my brother and his friends (all around twenty-six), I decided to let down my defenses a bit and reach out the only way I felt comfortable- through the Internet. Drinking always lowered my inhibitions, something I found both enjoyable and frightening. It was nice to be more open than I would consciously allow myself to be, but I was always scared of what I might reveal with my defenses down. Would I let it slip out that I was gay?; this was my greatest fear. But the Internet was safe- there was no overt rejection, it was discreet and I found safety in the veil of anonymity that it provided.

So I sat down at the computer in an attempt to achieve some contact with the gay community. I often surfed the 'net for hours at a time after I'd been out drinking; this was what I referred to as my 'sobering-up technique'. Previously this had been limited to the myriad of pornographic sites I had at my disposal, but this time would be different. This time I was searching for contact. I went to the Planet Out page, first entering their chat rooms but quickly exiting for fear of actually having to have a conversation with someone in real time. What could I say? I couldn't discuss my sexuality with myself, let alone allow a stranger to be part of it. I took the safer approach and browsed through the postings on the message boards. This seemed entirely safe- very impersonal and sterile- so I posted my own message. I titled it something like "Lonely in St. Louis"- yes, that was it exactly. That title didn't just sum up my message, it summed up my feelings at the time. To some extent it still does.

Several days later- maybe even a week (I lose track of days when I'm lonely)- I receive a response. This was not the first response; this was the first GOOD response- something honest and sincere, not full of sexual innuendo and offers as so many of the messages and replies were. It seemed that someone had found me that could relate to my situation. Well, I have a feeling that almost everyone who responded- and indeed, almost every gay man- could relate, but this guy was willing to share his experience and help me through mine. He was my first contact with another gay man- at least, one that would admit to being gay- and that alone meant a lot to me.

His name was Doug. He lived in Chicago, but had graduated just the previous year from WashU, where I was currently a junior. We had never met- never even heard of each other- even though we spent three years together at school. That wasn't very unusual though- he was a drama major, hanging out in the performing arts department that seemed to draw a largely disproportionate percentage of the university's gay population; I was in the business school, one of maybe only a handful of gays there, and no one was about to tell anyone about it. Certainly not I- how would I ever function in the business community as a gay man? The prospects of that frightened me.

We corresponded for quite some time over e-mail. Other people would contact me during our months of exchange, but I never 'talked' to any of them at the depth I did with Doug. Something about him was so inviting- perhaps his sincerity and candor. I felt I could tell him anything and everything about my life, and I did. He responded with a caring tone and thoughtful reactions. What set him apart from everyone else I would e-mail- among other things- was that we never talked about sex. It was nice to finally meet a gay man that didn't concern himself solely with sex. The baring of myself was returned, and he opened himself up to me as much as did to him. I knew he was a very special person who had gone through a lot of the confusion and pain I was now experiencing; he was still going through that, to some extent.

Several months passed- January, February, and into March. It was now late March, and Doug was coming to Saint Louis to visit some friends. He wanted to meet, something I'd wanted for quite some time now. This would be my first meeting with anyone off the Internet. I was both nervous and excited- that would come to be my standard feelings for meeting people. I'm most excited by the possibility that this person might actually like me, and nervous that he won't.

We would meet at a coffee shop- not my usual place, but still very convenient. I like meeting people at coffee shops- they seem to be the best places for conversation. He had given me a description of himself: blonde hair, thin- a description that gave me just enough information to imagine my perfect man. I knew he had personality and depth; I wasn't devoid of vanity though. I was now looking forward to our meeting more than ever.

Doug was coming with a few friends, and I frantically called several of mine. I couldn't go alone, especially if he'd be with other people; I imagined it would be like an inquisition, his friends dissecting every sentence, every mannerism. At this point very few people knew I was gay, and this wasn't how I planned to tell those who didn't know, so my options were limited. I was lucky enough to get my friend Neil to come.

We walked into the shop and ordered. We turned around to purvey the crowd- there were probably about twenty people there. We both saw him almost immediately- blonde hair, green sweater, just as he'd said on the phone. What am I doing? He won't like me- he's too cute. He looks like he's having a great time- maybe I should just leave him alone. "So, what are you going to do?" asked Neil. Hell if I know- what should I do? We took a seat the table next to where he was. I listened to him talk for a while- I didn't want to interrupt. Was I staring? He's so beautiful, I couldn't help but stare. Neil prodded me a bit, saying "If you don't talk to him, I'm going to". Oh no, that would be bad. I sheepishly said "Doug?" and he looks. And he smiles, but I'm still to nervous to realize it, and his friends all stop talking and look at me- stare at me. Oh boy.

We talked for about a half hour. It took several minutes before I could calm down enough to have any cognitive recognition of what we were talking about. We had had so much to say in e-mail, but in person we had a typical conversation. It's hard to delve deep in the presence of strangers; I have a hard enough time with people I know. Yet it was a wonderful, exhilarating half-hour. I hated to leave, but I had a formal to go to- how bizarre, leaving a wonderful guy to be with a girl. I vowed this was the last time that would ever happen.

As well left, I kept myself from turning around and looking back. I wanted to so much, but that would make me seem desperate, wouldn't it? The pessimistic side of me kicked in, wondering if Doug had liked me at all. But that couldn't keep me from smiling; Neil said I smiled the whole time we were there. Was it that obvious I liked him? Shit, he must have thought I was a desperate flake.

Doug called the next day, but I wasn't home. Apparently he did like me- my fear was for naught. How relieving, and yet confusing- was it possible that there could actually be other guys out there that liked me? We started talking on the phone frequently- nightly, in fact. The phone bills would come- $150 to $200 a month, but I didn't care. It was all worth it, just to talk, to hear his voice. Just knowing he cared and that he was out there was exhilarating, setting a smile upon my face any time I heard from him. My friends were astonished to find me happy and smiling and not making fun of someone at the same time. For the first time I could truthfully claim to be happy. Above all, I had found my new best friend, someone who could help me as much as I could help him, if not more so. For that, I will be forever grateful and in love.