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I have always managed to keep my bi world in check and separate from my public straight world by always putting my wife and children first and by committing only to them—that is, possibly, with one notable exception. I had an atypical long-term relationship with an Australian colleague that seemed innocuous at least at the beginning but that has grown stronger over the years—possibly beyond the grave.

I briefly knew Ben during a temporary assignment in Okinawa, Japan, where we were coworkers. He was one of those very intelligent, happy-go-lucky Aussies of ruddy complexion, a slightly stocky build, and a kind and friendly word for everyone. He seemed a surface kind of guy who did his work with competence, didn't muck around in office politics, and headed straight for the sports bar and an evening of beer and witty banter at the end of his shift. I was new to the office, and he had quickly become an old hand at all of the procedures. I gravitated toward him immediately as the most knowledgeable and "head straight from here to there" worker on board.

I probably wouldn't have gotten to know Ben beyond superficial office interaction during this time, however, if I wasn't starved for practice tennis partners to keep my skills from atrophying. He didn't look the part of a competitive sportsman and he was quite clear that he didn't really play much tennis, rather that he played handball and squash. But when we got on the tennis court, I quickly learned that squash players had some wicked moves that served them in good stead in tennis. He ...

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