Scully had called one Sunday morning to ask a favor. Her car was in the shop and she was supposed to go to Mass with her mother that morning, for a cousin's First Communion. Would I drive her to Baltimore?

Sure I would. I told her to take her time, that I'd find a way to amuse myself in Baltimore until she got ready to go home. She told me that wasn't necessary, that she was sure her mother would give her a ride home.

I insisted on waiting. Maggie Scully is one of my favorite people; if she knows I'm gay, she hasn't let it bother her, and she's one of the few Scullys who seems to understand why Dana Scully keeps me around. I didn't want Maggie driving around D.C. by herself; she doesn't really know the city well, and there are places in the District that even I'm not comfortable going to, and I always carry my weapon.

So after I dropped Scully at St. Ignatius Church, I drove to a nearby schoolyard, grabbed the basketball I'd tossed in the trunk and started practicing three-point shots. It wasn't long before a few guys from the neighborhood stopped by -- some of whom I'd met on previous visits to Baltimore -- and we had a pick-up game going.

One of the players was a guy I hadn't met before, and he immediately caught my eye. I couldn't say whether I thought he was "that way"; I just knew he was tall, and dark-haired, and fair-skinned, and he was wearing athletic shorts and a tank top and he looked good enough to eat with a spoon. No shit.

And no wedding ring, either; since he was about my age, that was an encouraging sign.

I didn't know his name, though; not until I went up to try to block a basket and came down hard on my left ankle, twisting it a little. My leg went out from under me, and I fell. It didn't hurt much, except my pride; but then Good- Looking came over and asked if I was all right.

I told him I was.

"Why don't you let me take a look at that ankle?" he said, crouching down next to me. "I'm a doctor; a bone doctor, as a matter of fact."

His name, he said, was Daniel Reilly, and as it turned out, he worked at Bethesda Naval Hospital. He was in the Navy.

Yeah, I know what you're thinking. He's Irish, he's a doctor, he's in the Navy, even the names are pretty close: Dana, Daniel. Sort of a male version of Scully, right?

Like I said earlier, bite me.

Daniel was a consummate professional as he examined my ankle. Once he knew it was okay, however, he did let his hands linger on my leg just a shade longer than a doctor typically would.

He risked one little upward glance at me then, and I can only assume he saw what he was hoping to see -- I liked what he was doing. You bet your sweet ass I liked it. Not only did I like it, I was wishing we had a little privacy so he could start moving those hands a little further north.

To make a long story shorter, I sat out the rest of the game, and Daniel sat with me. The vibes were vibing like they ain't never vibed before. I'm surprised the other guys didn't stop what they were doing and just stare. Daniel didn't touch me after he let go of my ankle, but he might as well have. My attraction to him was growing by the minute.

After a while, he asked if I wanted to go get coffee or something.

Oh, yeah. Did I ever.

~~~~~

We left the schoolyard and headed, in my car, for a coffee shop Daniel knew nearby. He said he lived just around the corner and he came here a lot; he said it was a "comfortable place" to be.

By that time, I had no more doubts; I knew he meant the shop's clientele was largely gay. And I knew there was something happening here that went far beyond any one-night stand I'd had in the past.

Daniel was smart, even witty, well-educated, fun to be with, and there was a kind of understanding, compassionate air about him that you don't often see in men, gay or straight. It's part of what makes him a good doctor, and a lot of what made me fall for him.

I think a lot of Daniel's compassion stems from his own suffering, the worst being his guilt over Jill, his ex-wife, who, he says, he married mostly in an attempt to go straight. Of course, it didn't work. He said he started going to the bars in the last year of their marriage. When he came out to her, he told me, it just about destroyed her.

The divorce was bitter, but she kept his secret; meaning, of course, that no matter how he hurt her, she still loves him. It wasn't hard to see that he still cares one hell of a lot for her, too. That is so fucking sad, for both of them.

No matter how many times I hear stories like that -- and I've heard the same story from I don't know how many men -- it still gets to me.

He told me about his marriage at our first meeting. I was touched that he shared it with me, but I'll admit it -- a part of me was congratulating myself for having avoided that trap. Unlike Daniel, I've never tried to change. Women have always been part of my life, but in the living room, never in the bedroom. I was rather proud of the fact that I never misled any of them the way Daniel had misled Jill.

I understood Daniel's feelings, though, and I didn't then and don't now condemn him for marrying, or for trying to live straight. It sucks big-time, having to deny who and what you are and -- for him as well as for me -- living in the constant fear of being outed and seeing your career destroyed because of it. Who the hell would choose to live that way, given a choice?

As I told him that day, society's got to change, because we can't.

We stayed there in that damn shop drinking coffee for hours, breaking it off only when my cell phone rang. It was Scully; she was ready to go home. I had forgotten all about her.

Reluctantly, I told Daniel that I had to go get my partner, and right away his face fell. Shit. That's what comes from living in the closet; I'd really almost forgotten the dual meaning of that word in our world. Quickly, I explained the situation; fortunately, I'd already told Daniel what I did for a living, so that made it easier.

When I told him about Scully, he didn't seem to have any trouble wrapping his mind around the idea of a female partner, not even one so close to me that I would ferry her to her mother's house on our day off. Why should he? He knew I didn't go that way; no matter how close Scully and I were, it wasn't going to interfere with anything Daniel and I had in mind.

I stood to leave, and Daniel stood too; he reached for my hand to shake it, but I was already past that point and I knew he was, too. I didn't want him to be in any doubt about what I was thinking and feeling where he was concerned. I took his hand, but in my left hand, not my right, then I leaned over and kissed him, lightly, just letting my lips brush over his.

"I'd like to see you again," I said. "I'd like that too," he said, and he squeezed my hand just for a second. He had the message. He gave me his phone number. I promised to call.

Which I did, the minute I got home.

We talked for hours. It was blowing my mind, to use a phrase from my youth. I'd never connected with a man like this before. I hadn't even considered the possibility.

We laughed like drunks; I told him things I'd never told anyone except Scully, and I talked to him about things I had never thought to tell Scully, things about the bar scene, the dating scene, the whole world of gay culture that she might accept but could never really understand.

If you think it's strange that I was comparing Daniel to Scully instead of to other men I'd dated, you're right. If I'd had any sense, I'd have seen the trouble coming. But all I could see was a man who not only appealed to me physically, but mentally and emotionally as well.

The strangest thing of all, I guess, is that not once during the entire day did I think about just finding a quiet place where we could get naked. I mean, I wanted to; Jesus, did I want to. That just wasn't _all_ I was thinking about. The really exciting part about Daniel wasn't that he made me hot, because lots of men have done that. What was exciting and new was this growing emotional connection.

We talked on the phone every night that week. On Saturday morning, I called and asked him to come to my place for dinner.

All right, let's really cut to the chase. We had dinner, he liked it, we sat on my couch and I put my arms around him and kissed him and it was the best, the very best kiss ever. He was making sure I knew what he wanted, and I was more than happy to oblige.

That kiss was only the beginning. Daniel taught me things about making love, about myself and my ability to relate, to participate, that I'd never imagined could be.

We did almost everything you can think of before that night was over, and it was a whole new world to me. Before, it was always a matter of finding someone who liked to do to me what I liked to have done to me and then finding someplace where we could get it done as quickly and efficiently as possible.

Now, it was a matter of finding out how this man and I could work our desires out between us, with real give and take, as equals -- as lovers. There was a lot to work out. He didn't leave my apartment until Monday morning. And by that time, I was head over heels in love.