The year began with my semester abroad. Although this was an overwhelmingly positive experience, I found myself re-closeted at first. Granted, I'd only taken a few tentative steps out of the closet at Wooster. Only a select few of my friends had been officially informed, though many others suspected. I mean, hello!
Meeting Leo at a nightclub called Burbujas (Bubbles) during my second week in Spain exacerbated this closet crisis. Several times, I had to sneak out of the dorms to see him. On one occasion, there was to be a huge party in the clubhouse, and all of the Americans were anxious to make a good impression (i.e., get laid). After faking an illness and then getting all dolled up in private, I actually crawled past the clubhouse, under the windows, on my hands and knees to avoid detection. What can I say? Desperate measures for desperate times.
At the bottom of the hill, I paused to hail a taxi downtown. Imagine my panic attack when an occupied taxi pulled up and I saw Mary, the punkish platinum blonde already designated as the program slut, beckoning me to split the cabfare. I was certain that Mary would reveal my duplicitous actions to the other Americans, but to this day I believe that she kept her mouth shut. On some level, I think she knew we were kindred spirits.
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