gay sex

I waited a long time.  It was a moment seven years in the making.  I realize now that the previous sentence makes it seem like I first had gay sex at seven years old.  This is not the case.  I first had gay sex when I was twenty.  I started on the path to that gay sex when I was thirteen, which was when daydreams were no longer enough.  It involved me, a bathroom, and a picture of a shirtless P. Diddy.  Yes, that's right.  P. Diddy.

If you've decided to continue after I dropped that bombshell, thank you for joining me and not letting your judgment affect your ability to finish this entry.  But after Diddy, all the stuff in between is just details.  If my life was Sex and the City (and shit, do I wish my life was Sex and the City), I would most accurately be Charlotte.  Everyone wants to be Carrie, and while I like to think there are very Carrie parts of me, I am essentially a prude.  At least by gay sex's standards.

I wanted to wait.  Obviously, waiting until marriage was out of the question and quite frankly, far too Evangelical for my tastes.  So, what was I to do while I waited?  I've never been big on gay porn.  This has ended up working to my advantage.  I can count on one hand the number of times I walked in on my brother jerkin' it.  No one can count on any hands how often they walked in on me.  Cause it never happened.  Porn almost always grosses me out.  At least, until I had gay sex.  And then I realized I liked straight porn.

But let's discuss what you really came here for.  Gay sex.  Being a young gay in the 21st century, it was both possible and important that I did my research on the Internet.  The Internet helped, but it also scared me shitless.  When I would try to find out what simple gay sex would involve, I inevitably ended up finding out what things like "extreme anal penetration" meant.  For every guy who was offering first gay sex experience advice to novices on forums, there were ten more offering their tips on things not worth repeating - even in a blog about gay sex.  I can't say for sure, but this may have had something to do with my delaying of the gay sex until I was near the legal drinking age.

The overwhelming factor in my delayed gay sex decision was not as exciting or frightening:  I was a sap.  I knew that if gay sex was as precarious as it sounded on the Internet, I would need somebody that I trusted and cared about and knew what the hell a safety word meant.  And if my other experiments in gay sexuality were any indication, I was someone who only enjoyed shit with people I really cared about.  And I don't mean literal shit, by the way.  I felt like it was necessary to clarify as this is about gay sex, after all.

I found him when I was twenty years old and I knew almost instantly.  I lost my V card to him: the first serious boyfriend and first love of my life.  As instantly as I knew he was different from all the others, I knew he would be the one.  I knew because all I thought about from that moment on was gay sex with him.  Rather than rush into it, I made him wait almost exactly one month (a lightyear in gay sex terms) to lose it all.  Like a teenage girl in her diary, I marked the date on my Curious George calendar that hung on my bright green wall adjacent to my bed covered by a light-brown comforter.  The head of that bed faced the window that we would peer out after gay sex observing a possum that crawled along a fence that we subsequently dubbed "our possum."  Which seemed cute and romantic until you got in your car and drove on any old North Carolina road littered with possum roadkill.

I spent the next two years making up for lost time.  I really couldn't get enough gay sex, and I couldn't get enough of him.  We had gay sex in cars, we had gay sex to Des'ree's "Kissing You" and also to a whole long list of hip-hop songs (Diddy would be so proud), we had gay sex in parent's beds, in foreign lands, in positions that were anything but comfortable, while watching ourselves in mirrors, while stoned, while mad at each other, in beds made for one, in beds made for two, on floors, and you get the point.  We had sex with and without protection.

I found out what the difference was between fucking and making love.  I found out what it was like to commit yourself to sex with only one person and I found out what it was like to find that the person you committed yourself to didn't hold themselves to the same standards.  I found out what it was like to explore sex beyond the first.

As meaningful as the first was, the experiences that came later were the most powerful.  They showed me that I was able to enjoy life (and sex) after everything had ostensibly ended.  I discovered that all along I had underestimated myself... and, of course, gay sex.

I had sex with a Costa Rican and decided instantly that I wanted to try sex with someone from each continent before I died.  I had sex as a one-night stand with a douchebag I met at a bar in Brooklyn and seriously only slept with to avoid taking the train home at 4am (one of my weaker moments).  I tried my hand at delaying sex with another one-night stand - waiting until the next morning - and still, it turned into a five-night stand.  Despite my most earnest attempts, it turned into nothing more.  It was then that I realized that gay sex didn't necessarily create relationships.

The best gay sex I've had has not been a one night stand, not been the love of my life, and has not yet been matched.  It came with a guy that I never had a clearly defined relationship with, but an undeniable, electric connection with that always led to the most outrageous and enjoyable gay sex ever.  The crowning achievement of our ridiculous and increasingly hot encounters was days before I left North Carolina for good and it involved the outdoors, a moon, cars, roads, sidewalks, public nudity, lost keys, poison ivy, and many hours.  It was truly gay sex for the history books.

The thing about gay sex is this: it's not for everyone.  I wasn't even sure it was for me for a very long time.  It took me a while to warm up to it, and of the few guys who have been lucky enough (debatable) to have it with me, there's only two who I would have it with again.  And save for the experiences with my first gay sex partner, I've learned to protect myself.  Still - gay sex unleashed a rebelliousness in me.  Society still makes me think that it's a dirty, naughty thing to do.  And God forbid I catch a gay porn flick, I clearly see how dirty and naughty it can be.  I sometimes need a shower and a confession after watching it and I'm not even religious.

If there's one thing that's stuck with me through these few four years of gay sex, it's that I have a very discerning eye for who gets these goods.  I'm not really one for a one-night-only performance.  I find gay sex to be like Cats: a long-running extravaganza that improves upon itself with each showing and with each new guest star.

Save for P. Diddy, it's been a select few ...and I don't yet regret a single one.