  It's the mid-1990s. You're a gay man living a rather lonely existence in Iowa. You meet a guy. He's intelligent. Interesting. Educated.
Cute enough. You hit it off. The sex is OK. The conversation is entertaining. His place is funky-cool. He fills a void.
But after a couple of weeks you notice there's something a little off about him. He lives in a constant state of drama. He's moody. The few friends he has make you uncomfortable. One day you ask that he keep the toilet lid down so your cats don't splash in the water, as your cats so dearly love to do. He tells you you're "controlling and manipulative.
" A few days later, your dad ends up in the hospital in a dangerous hypoglycemic episode. This guy finds it funny. You've had enough. You break it off. It's been a little over a month. It was nothing.
You move on. Eventually you hear he's moved to California. Good riddance to bad rodents, you think. It's almost 10 years later. You're living in Chicago. You're enjoying life.
One day, you're staggering home from a 6-mile run when you hear your name. You turn. He's standing right in front of you. He honestly doesn't look a day older than when you last saw him. You struggle to remember his name for a second, but when it comes to you, so do all the weird memories associated with him. You make small talk.
You're DYING to get home and chug a Gatorade. You find out he's living a few blocks from you, working essentially as a houseboy for a rich older gay couple he hates. This man has a fucking master's degree and he's working as a fucking houseboy, you think. What a loser. You're glad he's not in your life, you tell yourself. You say your awkward goodbyes and turn to head home.
But before you can make your full escape, he whips out his cell phone. "Give me your number and I'll give you a call sometime," he says. You pause. Your stomach fills with a foreboding sense of dread. Or maybe it's just telling you it wants some fucking Gatorade NOW. Do you give him your number and risk having him hound you to rekindle something that you wish had never happened?
Do you give him a fake number and hope you never run into him again? Do you tell him you'd really rather not stay in touch and set off some kind of drama-filled scene? What would you do? 
