The Art of Disguise

I left [university] and Ravi behind. It was a period of my life that opened doors and asked questions. Questions that scared the hell out of me, and I adored every minute of it. After an unsuccessful job interview in Washington D.C., I returned to the mid-west for the summer. For a variety of reasons, I did not attend graduate school in music or history. Instead, I decided to attend a near-by university to pursue a second undergraduate degree in a science related field.

It was a new school. A new city. A new student body. But the same Josh. I have always fancied myself as a wonderful judge of character. I walked into my classroom to find 25 students that I would spend everyday with for the next two academic years. At first glance I didn’t find anyone that I believed to be “friend-able.” It took me two weeks to hone in and find two individuals that I identified as potential friends. Britton and Krista.

I couldn’t have asked for two better friends. They both lived in the same city as [university] while I was a commuter student driving 45 minutes to school each day. (However, due to a cross of time zones the return trip actually took negative twenty minutes during daylight savings time) At the end of the school day Britton and Krista would often ask me over to one of their apartments for dinner, or a movie. For the most part, I would decline as I needed to return home and at least attempt to put in time at my part-time job.

Krista was a beautiful girl two years my junior. She hailed from upstate and didn’t know anyone in town. While she had a boyfriend who attended another university, she would shamelessly flirt with me. I would flirt in return. Remember, flirting gets Joshy in trouble.

Britton was the same age as I was. He was tall, athletic, and drove a truck. (One of my weaknesses) Britton was truly the “guy’s guy,” and I quickly realized that I was becoming incredibly attracted to him. I recall one day, early in the first semester, when we played a few games of tennis between classes. He pulled off his shirt and my heart nearly stopped at the sight of him in a square-cut wife beater. We walked back to class, depositing our tennis racquets at our cars, and took our seats for the rest of the afternoon. Due to our wonderful fall mid-western heat, Britton remained in his beater. My eyes kept wandering to his arms and across his chest. He had to know. He had to know that I was sitting right next to him checking him out. I was shameless. Fortunately, Krista was sitting on Britton’s other side doing the same thing.

Now, I have never considered myself as flamboyant. I try to come across as straight as possible. This may be one reason why I seem to over-flirt in social situations. But over the course of that first semester, our main professor seemed to identify me as “the gay one.” His comments were always in good fun, and never intended in a negative manner. This professor, Scott, has since become a great friend and mentor within my professional field. But at the time, his comments only continued to reinforce the hidden thoughts that I might actually be gay.

For two years, I never allowed Krista’s flirtations to develop. For two years, I longed for my friendship with Britton to develop into something more. For two years, I never told anyone about my previous relationships. For two years, I never felt like myself.