Somehow I just never considered that he might be as curious and resourceful as to find me on Friendster, and then read this. But he did, and pointed out that he doesn't have leather furniture as I claimed. Well, that was shorthand for big dark oaky craftsman furniture, I wrote it on very little sleep.

So now I have to go read back through his eyes. It's not as embarrassing as I thought. My diary has become a little boring because I've developed a sense of privacy. A while ago, Paul and Crystal both told me they had ready my diary and felt a little weird about it. Then Ken said the same. I'm being told that I'm naked, and so I hide my self in shame. But I think this was a good read because of my honesty and lack of shame. Who cares who reads my innermost feelings? It's better that a few people know too much about me, than nobody know anything.

Strangers knowing my business doesn't bother me. I am not so precious and secret. And for my friends, I am not someone who chats nightly on the phone with my girlfriends about my dramas, so this maybe serves to keep us connected. (I know, I should call too).

So let me return to innocence and tell you what's inside my head. I have big feelings for this boy, heart-pounding, gasping in disbelief, nervous muscles, aching desire for him. It came all of the sudden, costing me sleep and calories.

I'm not scared, but I want to say it's scary, these feelings, directed at a boy I barely know. I know he is sweet, funny, smart, kind, unpretentious, nice to his sister, good to the earth, and makes me want to be better.

But it's hard to know how honestly I know my feelings when he is, with due respect to any former lovers, the most beautiful boy I have been with... ever. I never thought I would ever date anyone as attractive as Robert, before he fell apart. But after careful deliberation, I conclude that A., OK let's call him Ari, is the incarnation of my ideal of male beauty. I couldn't possibly improve him. Fine, he could be one inch shorter so I wouldn't have to look up to kiss him. But that's it.

Do I sound like I'm bragging? Well, I won't deny that I feel like hot shit walking down the street with Ari, but what I'm driving at is that it's hard not to be dazzled by the beauty and see the person in plain light. I am a good looking guy, I will concede, but I doubt I startle people with my looks. So when someone is into me, I'm confident that they want my skin and everything inside of it as well. (Especially my gorgeous kidneys).

I don't think it's all dazzle. I think he is inside and out a boy I want to be with. But when I think about how little I really know him, I pray I am not under a spell.

And I think I know him more than I know him. I intuit things about people without realizing it. I know people's particulars before they tell me. And if something isn't right, I get this yucky curdled feeling inside -- the feeling of truth bypassing the brain and landing directly in the heart.

Instead I have the opposite of that feeling. I feel the yucky curdled parts inside turning pink and healthy again.