There are things you tell, and there are those things that are best kept to your self. Such as infidelity or stealing, or something worse, perhaps. Don’t worry, though, I’m not trying to absolve myself of any guilt by confessing to a crime or some unfathomable secret; I did not cheat on anyone nor did I rob anyone. And as much as I am prone to want to bury certain events of my life that might show me as naive, weak, or just plain foolish, I have to tell you this story. It is excerpted (and edited) from my journal and is very personal. And I share it because, like so many men I know who long for a committed, loving long-term relationship with a good man, I am at a loss (and steadily losing faith) for what it takes to find and maintain a healthy relationship with a Black man. Uniquely, this is the story of one of the greatest loves I have known—a 2-year up-and-down-and-up-and-down romantic relationship with a man named Tom Noble. More commonly, it’s a typical story of how love—between men—can be so damned baffling, often painful, and difficult to navigate and sustain.