I am sitting somewhere with a young, good-looking man. I love him deeply and I feel he loves me too. But he is a homeless vagabond and resists the idea of surrender to love. At first he is kissing me and I am resisting. He says, "When did you ever water-ski?" and I say, "Before the arthritis, about 19 years old." He is surprised and very happy. Then I have a chance, he says. By this he means that he still has a chance not only to kindle my love, but to bring me the best ecstasy and sexual pleasure I've ever experienced, because I was so young and inexperienced when I came down with arthritis. Now he and I and a younger boy are walking through a park. I see a grassy area with cement picnic tables and an indoors area with lots of round tables. I decide to sit in the room. I go from table to table, which at first look empty, but as I get there, I'll see a sweater and purse or books. Someone is saving the table. So we go outside. I am standing very close to him. It is exquisite torture for the both of us. I turn my face and kiss him on the cheek. He pulls back sharply, like any little thing will make him cave in emotionally and he'll succumb to the loving feelings. Finally, I get up and say, "Look, I've done all I can. If you want me, you'll come and find me," and I walk away from him, ready to give him up entirely. I have to for my own peace of mind.