Burned.

I've not really been in the habit of reading strangers' blogs, but I found out that this guy with a popular one - CyberKenny - lives in Atlanta. And, this week, he thought that he'd met someone special - only to discover that the guy was a lying, cheating, evil bastard.

What CyberKenny wrote in response to this discovery is filled with a wariness and sorrow, and I highly recommend that you read it - particularly if you're gay and single.

I posted a response to it, and my response was this, which I've reprinted here because it's more about me than it is about CyberKenny:

Thank you for saying what you did about relationships. Though this may not matter to you, it helped me.

I have this whole "reluctance" thing going on with this person who keeps calling me, and it's because I've been burned. Over and over and over and over again.

It's not you. You're not the one to blame. It's admirable that you opened yourself up to the possibility of "something." It's brave and sweet that you wanted to believe that the best was possible.

You'll face this obstacle and many others. It isn't easy. Love is shit. There's maybe not a happy ending. You may not be a relationship person.

I keep thinking that, with my "dating" attempts, I've just gotten in the habit of collecting amusing "bad boyfriend" anecdotes - rather than continuing because I hope to find someone.

"Hey, did you hear my story about the arsonist I used to date?" "Hey, did you hear the one about the guy who told me he didn't call because he got beaten up and had a nervous breakdown?" "Hey, did you hear the one about the poet who wrote about me in a published book after we broke up?" "Did you hear about the one who dumped me via e-mail the night after we first had sex and then fled to Seattle for a weeklong modeling job?"

It's asinine, and it never ends with anything lasting or decent or good.

I know now enough to know that I "want" a relationship, rather than "need" one. I know I'm fine without one - though I'm maybe a little too sarcastic and bitter as a result of it. (At least, I try to be amusingly bitter.)

But what is the alternative to hoping for the best? Resignation? Isolation? Fear? Loneliness?

Some of these things I can handle, like loneliness. I'm adept at being by myself.

But some of them I refuse to admit, like resignation to my fate as a person who'll never get to learn from a relationship. Not be in one - learn from one.

There are things I still want to know about life. Things I can't find out without taking another risk, meeting another guy, standing steady in the face of potential disaster and smiling.

I may be wary, but I'm not giving up. Life hasn't beaten the hope completely out of me yet.

And you shouldn't give up either.