First Taste

I have been dreading this entry for quite some time, but I thought perhaps since this month featured a poll on first sexual experiences, that I would be open enough to recount my own first experience at the age of 18 whether it exposes my vulnerabilities or not.

The reason I have been dreading this entry, the reason I considered not including it at all, was that my first sexual experience was not exactly the most enjoyable moment of my life. It is one of those dark moments that you try to forget, that doesn't really represent who you are as a whole. It was one of those moments in which you don't quite feel like yourself.

It is sad that the culmination of years of pubescent angst and sexual yearning, years of hormonal boiling and curiosity should come to an apex in such an anticlimactic manner. I'm just glad I'm not the only one. It seems to be a common thread among a number of people I have talked to that the first time was not the most satisfying. But then again, I guess you can't exactly be perfect without some practice.

Obviously I'm stalling here. Could you tell? Well, let's get down to business. I won't bore you with all the details, but my first experience did begin in a public park (but no, I didn't have sex in that park, at least I wasn't that stupid) with a complete stranger. I don't know why I even remotely found him attractive, I don't think he even had all of his teeth. I had read books in the library about cruising at park restrooms and in the woods. As a teenager, the idea excited me. So when I saw this man parked near one of the bathrooms, walking around seemingly aimlessly, I figured that that was what he was probably doing. I don't remembering being nervous or excited or anything like that, like I said, I've tried to block it out. It sort of just happened.

What ended up occurring was that we got to talking a little, figured out each other's intentions, and he took me back to his trailer home in his broken down little blue car with a broken back window covered in black garbage bag (god it just gets worse and worse, I'm really regretting this now). Actually, I don't even think it was his trailer, I think maybe it was his mothers. Anyway, we proceeded to, well, don't even make me say it. Really, it ended up being just a jumble of awkward bodies. Lasted about half an hour or so I guess. He couldn't even keep an erection, since it seemed that he masturbated 4 or 5 times a day and had worn it out for the day. At least that's what he told me. What the hell did I know about it? I put my clothes back on and left as quickly as I could, felling sick and like I was going to vomit all over the gravel outside.

I was turned off by the whole idea of sex for a long time after that. I couldn't believe I had done such a thing with someone I didn't know at all and who I would never see again. I vaguely recall he even said he had been in jail, or was being sent to court for something...ugh, my head hurts. What could I have possible been thinking? I hated that sick feeling afterwards, and that happened a lot over the next several years. When you have been taught for so long that something is wrong, it is hard not to feel that way, and I fear that that disapproval, that nonacceptance of gay sex is what creates this culture of discretion in sex, this underworld just under the surface where anonymity and discretion feel necessary. If it were accepted as healthy and normal, there wouldn't be a need to meet people in parks or any other secret place for that matter.

I find the idea ridiculous now, meeting people in this way. I don't regret anything in my life, that first experience did serve some purpose in the overall scheme of my being; but it still makes me cringe. We all do things that make little sense in our lives. It was a rite of passage, moving from abstinent to sexually active being, but if only I could have chosen someone a little more, shall we say, appealing? I guess it's good to laugh about it though, just a little. Then let's close the book on this one and move on to more pleasant ventures.