I'm on the final leg of my flight home, and very glad to be going home. It's strange, but I have mixed and unusual feelings about it. One the one hand, I'll admit, that for the first time in .... probably a couple of years, I'm excited about someone, that is, Hector, the guy I met three weeks ago. I know it's probably silly of me, since I've known him such a short time, but hey, if a guy can't be silly about these things after being single for five years, I don't know when he can be.

At the same time, I have another feeling to contend with, one I've not felt in an equally long time - a dread of going to work. Of course, it's not an absolute hatred of my new job - the job will probably end up being very fulfilling. But right now, I have no excitement about the prospect of going in on Monday and having nothing to do except more self-training. I guess I've been spoiled. I've always been lucky enough to have a job which challenged and interested me. For most of my working life, I've not experienced that feeling of "Oh God it's Monday".

I'm sitting next to a very handsome young guy from Dallas, and we just finished a long very animated, somewhat intimate conversation. What a charmer he is - exploding all the stereotypes I have of Texan men. Unfortunately, sitting next to him on the other side is his wife. She's either in a bad mood or a lesbian - of course I'm hoping for the latter :)

I've noticed that whenever I fly I alternate between a kind of giddy enjoyment and a bad-tempered depression. Whatever book I'm reading or whatever in-flight movie I'm watching fills me with joy, or other strong feelings, but a while later, I'm feeling all caged up and antsy. Maybe it's time for some more lithium :)

The last two days of class were as uneventful as the earlier days. The teacher for the last two days was more incompetent than the rest, and I learned very little. There was partial compensation in that one of the new class members was a handsome guy who seemed almost certainly gay. We got to chatting at break-time, and exchanged the code words of "theater" and "Chelsea" (the current gay epicenter in Manhattan).

Thursday night I did my usual gym thing, and went running on the campus track. In the center of the track, there was a small soccer field, with about ten guys playing a pick-up game. I kept looking enviously at the players, as I did my circuit, hoping they'd ask me to join in, as I love to play. When I'd finished my run, I even sat by the side of their field and watched a while. I was pretty amazed that they never asked me to play. Almost anywhere else in the World, in similar circumstances, I'd have been asked if I wanted to play. The incident confirmed an impression I'd formed of the locals here - that they have some hidden rules of socialization that observe very fine lines of what you should and shouldn't do. People seem friendly, but with a reserve - it's a very calculated friendliness that will not go past a certain point. It's just an impression, of course - I may be blowing smoke.

By Friday lunch-time, I'd settled on my escape plan - I'd skip the afternoon class, and see if I could get an earlier flight home. Checking with the airline, I switched to a 4.30 flight, and a while later, I was in the air, bound for Dallas. A short time on the ground again, to change planes, and now finally, I'm on the San Francisco flight home!