A little romance. (my perspective).

There I sat on a rainy afternoon with a gorgeous man named Daniel in a Jacuzzi in San Francisco's plush Hotel Palomar. As popera diva Emma Shapplin's latest CD played and jasmine candles scented the air, Daniel and I sipped pinot grigio and talked of life. We splashed each other with bubbles. Sound romantic? It was, terribly. And yet we weren't lovers or even dating.

We were just two gay men, enjoying the beauty of the moment.

I know romance exists: I've felt it. For years I felt it with my husband, Andrew Howard. When he died unexpectedly in May 2001 after 12 years together, I thought I'd never feel it again. Yet a year and a half later there it was, in the Jacuzzi with Daniel. The romance of the moment was great because sex wasn't an issue. I wasn't ready for it; Daniel knew it. The thrill of completing the moment with sex wasn't worth the risk of mining its perfection with an awkward situation.

Sex is part of love, part of romance, part of intimacy, but it isn't all of it. Nor does romance always lead to sex--or vice versa.

Andrew gave me romance as a gift. One year for my birthday he arranged a surprise trip to San Francisco from our home in Long Beach, Calif. When we arrived in our hotel room he gave me a box with a small gold band in it. I loved it, but he said it wasn't for me but for him. For 10 years I had asked him to wear a ring, but he hated jewelry. That night I slid a ring on his finger. He then gave me a bigger box holding a diamond ring, and he slid that ring on my finger. A more romantic night I cannot imagine.

For too many gay men today, romance is all but dead. They seem to pride themselves on believing that sex should be not only casual but frequent--and often devoid of all emotion, lacking in any romance. But whoever first said that sex could be casual clearly wasn't having it. You see, I've had casual sex and I've had its opposite, sex with love, and believe me, the latter is so much better that it makes the former seem not only unnecessary but downright stupid.

A few weeks ago, while feeling very lonely, I found myself in bed with a stranger--my first sexual encounter since Andrew's death. The sex was great. But afterward, my life was supposed to be better in some way, and it wasn't. I only felt emptier than before, and I missed Andrew more.

My encounter in the Jacuzzi was far more fulfilling and meaningful.

Sex is the most personal thing one human can do with another. While it is true that many gay men think with their dicks, sooner or later their hearts feel the effect. Phone calls are not returned, feelings are hurt, nights end in a lonely haze of alcohol or false bravado. We may deny our feelings, we may stifle them, but a life of sex without love, without some kind of emotional weight, will take its toll.

A hundred one-night stands cannot stand up to one night with Andrew. For 12 years he could give me butterflies in my stomach simply by flashing me. He excited me in every way right from the beginning, and that excitement never went away. Just lying next to him made me feel more alive than anything else. The fact that he wanted me too made the experience so much richer, so fulfilling.

I always ask my gay male friends now, when they meet someone, "Did that person give you butterflies?" If the answer is, "No, but he's cute," I counsel them not to go to bed with him. Certainly, love may not come at first sight--it takes time to grow between two people--but there's something to be said for romance, for anticipation. Instant gratification has become our credo, and yet all we are doing is trying to fulfill a need that cannot be instantly fulfilled. There is no quick release for loneliness.

Sex is not an isolated act. By definition, it cannot be one-sided. It is the establishment of a connection, a bridge into a person's life. We shouldn't have to choose between sex and romance, because love is a part of sex. If it's not--if it's not even a possibility--then what you're having isn't even sex, really: It's just a release, a bodily function.

You wouldn't give away your heart in an instant, so why your body? Hold out for the butterflies.

"Karel and Andrew" were the first gay couple to host a drive-time radio talk show in a major city.