Years ago, after a badly sprained ankle, was definitely crushing on my physical therapist, who was handsome, fit, masculine but also empathetic, enamored of him to the point that towards the end of the treatments tried to understate the extent of how much better I was feeling trying to prolong the pleasure of seeing him. The fact that his hands never went above my knee saved me from having to hide what I was thinking about him. I'm pretty sure he was straight, but couldn't figure it out.