The truth is he may have been my first love. I just didn’t realize it when he was loving me and I was loving him. Unforgiving love. Unconditional love. It was love that felt so comforting and natural, like the skin on my body, I didn’t stop to pay attention, recognize that it was there. It simply existed for years. Only now after that skin has been torn and I look at the cut and wonder will it ever heal again, do I know that it was there. That skin was protecting me. It kept me cool when it was hot. It kept me warm when it was cold. It was also beautiful and smooth. Oh, how his love was smooth. And I think now, what a gift and blessing it was. He was truly a best friend and without sharing touches, we shared the most intimate of moments. He and I often lived just the two of us, in a world that we'd created for and with each other. I didn’t know then, he was the prototype for the relationship I desire with another man. Somehow, he knew me better than I knew myself. With him I was comfortable and comforted. With him I was stimulated. With him all things were all perfect. With him I was delicately equal. I didn’t realize this until he was no longer there and we were no longer friends. I would have never imagined it then, as it is hard for me to think it or say it now. These are thoughts I shouldn't be having. It was a relationship that could never be. But it certainly was. It has taken me years and experiences exploring relationships with other gay men to reach this real point of discovery that has shaken me. I miss him and I miss his love. I’ve yet to find someone who has loved me the way he did. I wonder sometimes, does he still love me.