Most people who meet me for the first time end up concluding that I’m either gay or a drug addict. I don’t know for sure why this is the case, but I suspect their misperception stems from my unconventional behavior. One thing I do know for sure is that people are quick to judge from outward appearances. Not me, though, for I’m different. I make judgments about a person’s character and overall worth to the human species based upon limited contact and off-the-cuff assessment, but I’m usually correct in my perception. Anyway, I was browsing for books in the gay and lesbian section of Barnes & Noble the other day. I’m teaching a course on epidemics at the University of Mantua and am looking for some interesting stories about AIDS. Suddenly it occurred to me, like one of those magical epiphanies everyone wishes for, that I’d been standing in front of the gay and lesbian section for the last ten minutes and I didn’t care. Finally, I crossed, for me, the final frontier of not caring, and it feels liberating, almost as if I’ve come out of the closet, which I did, by the way, last year when I opened up about my homosexuality.