I spent the day with my boyfriend yesterday and I had a wonderful time. It was strange to be with him here, near my home. We went to all of the normal places, places where I could easily run into people I know, and I enjoyed the thrill of it. It didn't matter, because I loved being with him.

We started our day by going to lunch at some place way out in the middle of nowhere. The waitresses' names were Billie and Becky Lou and the like, and the parking lot was filled with pickup trucks. Before we got out of the car, he gave me a flower, and I had to try my hardest not to kiss him right there. I reminded him that we had to be discrete, though; I pointed out where we were. "There are plenty of fences for us to be tied to out here," I told him. It wasn't as melodramatic as it sounds. We both smiled. We had just seen The Laramie Project, both a stage version and the movie, the week before, and it was sort of a catalyst for the relationship.

We were the only ones in the restaurant part of the place, and it was really fun to pretend to be straight because he was so bad at it. The waitresses knew; you could tell they knew, but that just made it more hilarious.

The rest of the day we shopped for a friend of ours, making out at every red light we came to because we couldn't do anything in the malls. We ended the shopping experience with a movie, a nice scary one that had us clinging to each other.

It was a wonderful day.

The sad sight comes with the fact that that flower, the one that I valued so much, is withered because I had to leave it in the trunk of my car overnight. I couldn't bring it in to the house, because bringing in a flower after shopping with my "good buddy from school" would have been too suspicious.

If there's one thing that makes me want to come out to my parents soon, it's the sight of the withered flower on my desk.

Sincerely,

Formerly Scott