We'll call him Brandon. He was friends with a guy he had met in the cast of a play he was in.
Good friends. The other guy, "Craig," was about to move across the country, and this was a big deal for them. Such a big deal that a couple of days before Craig's departure, the two of them spent the day at a distant beach location, to have "quality time" before Craig left for good.
Brandon and Craig were in love. Not, as far as we all knew, involved. A friend who knew them better than I do thinks nothing romantic ever happened. Regardless, you know love when you see it. That beach thing was not typical of men who are friends. It is precisely the kind of thing lovers do.
Later Brandon popped up with a nice Mormon fiancee. You couldn't help noticing that he did not have the glow he had always had around Craig. He introduced his fiancee with a certain restraint, a forced smile.
The fiancee was a very buttoned-up sort with an antique name, I'll substitute Henrietta for it. The two of them looked odd together. She did not match Brandon in terms of charisma, wit, temperament, or even appearance.
The writer gets a few details wrong about the Church's position on homosexuality, but it's interesting that MoHos are becoming somewhat visible due to Mitt Romney's candidacy.