Don't ask, don't tell, don't fall in love

Drake only faced his sexuality two years ago, but he bears no illusions about turning back. He has no hope of an arranged marriage or falling in love with a woman. He's contemptuous of gays who have resorted to the sham-marriage option. "I could never stand in front of God and everybody and take that oath," he sneers.

That's unfortunate, because of the three captains, he's the one dead set on making general. He struts like a field marshal already: big, bright, and aggressive, with a trenchant wit he's not shy about wielding. He's completed two stellar combat commands, intuitively grasps the politics and plays it with the best of them. Nobody doubts his ability to earn the general's star -- except perhaps the gay officers who share his secret.

Drake meets Brett for lunch frequently, and happens to call one morning while I'm visiting, around the end of February. We've hit it off socially at Brett's barbecue and Alex's dinner party, so he agrees to a lunch interview, with Brett sitting in. Drake suggests a restaurant downtown, Brett rolls his eyes. Drake is extremely intelligent, but mildly reckless in Brett's view: The interview will be conducted in private, he insists.

Brett and I run out to the Safeway on the corner for lunch meat and fruit. Most of the Carson GIs take advantage of the lower prices at the commissary and the PX, but Brett lives downtown, miles from post, and he's eager to avoid off-duty contact anyway. One less chance for casual encounters with his peers, who might strike up a conversation, get to know him outside of work, suggest he join them for a couple of beers or a game of pool.

Drake elaborates on his opposition to open gay service while Brett fixes the sandwiches. "It's too indoctrinated in our Judeo-Christian tradition," he says. "People will always think they're better than you."

The reality, he says, is that most of the troops would be comfortable with most of their gay peers if they knew who they were. The military generally attracts "butch guys" regardless of their sexuality, he says. Yet he's pessimistic about overcoming the ingrained images of gays in the service. "The stereotype is nothing but group showers and boots in the air," he says.

He describes his future so passionately, so vividly, that it's hard to believe he doesn't see the contradiction. One moment he's describing his rapid ascent toward general, minutes later a completely opposing picture of "wedded" bliss.

He acknowledges he'll have to sacrifice much of his gay life to continue advancing up the chain of command. "I've chosen to put my personal life aside," he says. "I've purposely sort of squelched my private life because of a sense of higher purpose."

Yet soon, he's bristling at the thought of sacrificing the life partner he's still intent on finding. "I don't want to die an old, sad fag without a mate," he insists. "The kind you always see in the coffee shop knitting and talking to himself. I don't want to be that guy."

Brett calls us to the table for lunch. He's whipped up a savory pasta salad to accompany his stuffed baguettes, carved the pineapple into steeple-shaped strips easily separated from the rind into bite-sized triangles, and laid it out sumptuously on a banana-peel platter. "Brett, this is spectacular!" Drake says. "I thought you were just making sandwiches." Sooner or later, a gay gene had to turn up somewhere in the group; Martha Stewart, I wouldn't have expected.

Brett ladles out generous portions of chunky clam chowder, and I force the issue of Drake's contradiction. Drake seems to suggest he will attain his two goals sequentially, but the math is incompatible. When do you picture yourself hooked up with a lifetime partner? By 40, for sure. If it hasn't happened by 40, chances are it never will, he says. And what's the age generals pin on that first star? Late 40s. So, if you sacrifice until general, you've sacrificed for forever?

He's not happy. He looks about ready to vomit, or possibly slug me. But Drake's a sharp guy: He knew the visions were irreconcilable, and acknowledges it with only a minor hesitation. He may be forced to abandon his profession somewhere down the road, he says, but suddenly offers a very different reason.

"I would give up my career rather than bring shame upon the organization that's been so good to me," he says.

Shame? He seems a bit surprised by his own statement. "Shame in the sense that the media frenzy would be embarrassing," he says.

We talk for several hours, but it only takes a moment before he's speaking candidly about the obstacles ahead. "I think captains can get away with having a roommate, but majors can't," he says. "If you have a roommate anywhere in your 30s, you're [gay]. I have to admit I always suspect that."

The truth is, Drake's just playing it by ear, hoping for some kind of miracle. He's nearly 15 years from general; the world could change dramatically in that time. Maybe. "I don't anticipate doing anything about it for a while," he says.

Brett listens attentively through most of the interview, interjecting a thought only occasionally. He contemplates his own options aloud after Drake returns to work. Brett's got a much easier out. He really does want to please his father -- he might have married a stranger regardless of his sexuality.

That fiancie several years ago -- did he love her?

"It was somebody I thought I could fall in love with," he says. "She probably felt the same way. I didn't think that was totally unrealistic. To marry somebody who your ..." He breaks off. It's clear from earlier conversations that he was about to invoke his father's wishes, but he shies away from acknowledging it in certain moods. "... who comes from a good family," he continues. "A good education, all that stuff. I could grow to love her. That's sort of my cultural upbringing."

And she was also his last chance of straightening out, he admits. He had only recently begun experimenting with men, terrified he might not be able to stop. She might have put an end to it, and in the end that's why he called it off. The gravity of the wedding vows forced him to face the truth, and then there was no going back to women. If he married now, it would be a complete sham: to please his father, to produce an heir and to save his career.

The appeal is tantalizing, he admits, but the gravity of the deception appalling. He had thought he sabotaged the marriage option two years ago, by coming out to his father. But he could only bring himself to acknowledge "gay-leaning," and the partial disclosure just provided Dad additional incentive to step up the pressure.

By the time the Career Field Designation form arrives in March, Brett is split 50-50 on giving in to a mail-order bride.

Wednesday: Brett makes his decision.

• View blog reactions