Relationships - Part IV

          Last time I left off, I had just lost my virginity (see Part 3). I was now in the middle of high school, a 16-year-old sophomore with a car, a red Jeep Cherookee, and a group of friends that were united not on common goals and aspirations, but rather a desire to indulge every weekend in drinking and smoking pot. I was always friendly with those that I had honor classes with, but I never hung out with them on the weekend, mostly because while they were doing group projects and study sessions, I was hanging with more social-minded party people. Towards the end of high school, I became closer with my school friends, after having so many shared classes, but in my mind, they just weren’t at my level in terms of wanting to go out every weekend and have fun. My school friends were intellectual and cultured, but were socially immature and just getting around to the whole dating thing. I was not dating anyone, due to the fact that no one I was interested in was “out” in my small suburban high school, but I was still keen on the concepts of sex and dating. So for the most part, I stuck with my sex-drugs-and-alcohol-minded cohorts. There was some cross-over, but the two groups of friends still remain quite separate in my mind.

          The summer of my sophomore year, I finally came out to one of my best friends and long-time crush, Anthony. We were having a fire on the beach, drinking some beers, just me and him. I didn’t have any reason to think he was gay, but I hoped he was. And I had to ask him before anyone else to make sure the feelings were not mutual. As much as I hoped he would say, “I feel the same for you,” I was not disappointed when he didn’t reciprocate. It just reaffirmed that my feeling were not normal and that it was going to be a lot harder to find someone else in my situation; straight-acting yet so gay for some dudes.

          Anthony did, however, do me a huge favor of keeping my secret until I was ready to come out publically a year later. I will always respect him and the maturity he possessed at that age.

          A few months later, I finally got the chance to come out to my parents and older sister. All of them were sitting in the computer room of my house. My dad was at the computer showing us something when a porn ad popped up. It was gay porn. My dad tried to be cute, and said, “Oh, Kevin is this for you.”

          I had been waiting for a chance to shut him up for a while now and finally, here was my chance. So I responded, “Actually, Dad, I’ve been meaning to tell you guys this for a while and, I’m gay.”

          They all stopped dead in their laughter and stared at me. My dad was speechless, my sister’s eyes began to water, my mom asked, “Are you sure? It could just be a phase.”

          I told them, “Believe me, I’m sure, I’ve known since I was twelve and the feelings have not gone away.”

          My mom began to cry and just said, “And you’ve been dealing with this all on your own?” None of them were at all disappointed, my dad was a little confused but my parents were always very liberal and loving and knew that homosexuality was nothing to necessarily be ashamed of. None of them saw it coming, but they really should have; I was obsessed with rainbows and Lisa Frank as a child, I had not had a girlfriend since middle school, and I’m pretty sure that my dad had walked in on me looking at gay porn on more than one occasion. I later realized that, due to my mannerisms, they really just gave me the benefit of the doubt. 

Christmas breakfast at the Schwartz household

          My sister insisted on me telling my brother soon because she didn’t want to have to harbor that knowledge behind his back, and as much as I agreed, I really didn’t want to tell him. I think I was most afraid of what he would think as my older brother, as my childhood mentor. So when I was out to breakfast with him and his girl friend, I let them know. It was hard for him, I could tell. He was pretty silent and made little eye contact. His girlfriend had to ask most of the follow-up questions. I later found out from my mom that he was not as ashamed of it personally, but more concerned with what his friends would think. Luckily, his friends didn’t care, and more importantly, they didn’t blame him for my sexuality. It did kind of irk me that my brother made it about his friends and his situation rather than the struggle I was going through in coming out of the closet. He is an awesome person, even if a little self-centered at times.

At my brother's fraternity family night.

          My junior year, I also made the switch from the football team (running back mostly), to the musical where I had a lead role both my that year and my senior. I still remember the casting director’s reaction to my audition; “Where have you been for the past two years?”

          “Playing football.” I responded with a smirk.

On the right as Prez in "Pajama Game" my junior year.

           I had come to a point where I hated football, I hated practice, I hated getting yelled at, stressing about it, fucking up because I was stressing, and then getting yelled at again. It was a vicious cycle I wasn’t able to break. The moment after practice ended would be the sweetest time of my day because it was the furthest I was from having to put on the pads again, and stress out some more. I use to sit in class and dread the moment where I would inevitably fuck up on the field and get yelled at again. Maybe the coaches thought their screaming criticisms were encouraging, but for me, I pride myself on what my coaches and mentors think, and that screaming only exacerbated the situation.

Moon Face Martin in "Anything Goes" my senior year.

          Anyway, during the musical, I met Calvin. He was a year ahead of me in school, and not obviously gay, but once you got to know him and all his feminism, then it was clear. He sang beautifully, with more vibrato than any straight man could muster, and he was rather soft spoken but enthusiastic at the same time. I went to his birthday party gathering when I made a silly comment to one of the girls about Calvin being cute. She conveyed that to him, and we started talking. It wasn’t long before we were having sex. One time, we couldn't go to either of our houses, so we drove around in that red Jeep until we came to the elementary school parking lot. It was the weekend so there was no cars or people around. This was a good enough spot, so we hopped in the back and started banging. I always associate his smell with his Greek and Irish background - smells are so enduring in memory.

          We had some good times, but as quickly as it started, it ended. I began to lose interest because I couldn’t see myself bringing Calvin around to hang out with my friends. He just wasn’t at our level maturity wise and I felt like it would have gotten awkward for me. I guess, he just wasn’t the best I could do and I wasn’t particularly proud to be with him. It was more a relationship out of convenience.

          One day, I came to get my backpack which I had left at his house. When I got out of the car, he was waiting out side for me. He said, “I can smell the pot on your breath.”

          “Sorry?” I responded in a sarcastic tone.

          “I just wish you spent half as much time with me as you do with your friends,” he said.

          “I guess that’s the problem,” I stated, “I don’t think this is going to work,” and then I left. At that point, it had only been a month, and I had already fallen out of love with him. Although, in my mind, there was nothing really there to begin with. We were two different types.

          Things did get a little weird because we were both in the same class and creative competition team (D.I. – Destination Imagination) together. We used to sit next to each other in class, now he sat away and I migrated towards some of the cooler kids. During D.I. there were times where I could feel him staring at me, longingly, and it just made me even more repulsed by his neediness.

          I’ll always feel a little guilty for chewing him up and spitting him out, but it was an important relationship and milestone for me in figuring out what I was looking for in a guy. Now I knew that if I was going to really date a guy, he would have to be masculine, and he would have to be low-maintenance, but more importantly he would have to be a good friend, someone that makes me laugh, and someone I could feel proud to introduce to my other friends.

          The summer before my senior year, I finally came out to my friends and classmates. I had held off until that point, partly because I was still coming to terms with it myself, but also because I always feared what the upperclassmen would think; I had always looked up to and respected them the most as my mentors and role models.

          But now that I was one of the top dogs, I figured it was my obligation to all the closeted underclassmen to come out and show them that “normal” acting kids like myself, captain of the wrestling team and student class president, could be gay, and it’s okay. No one did that for me, and it made me think being gay was not cool or unacceptable in our town. So I decided during my underclassmen years that I would come out before I graduated in order to be the change I wanted to see.

Me, dominating.

          That night, I was hosting a house party at my place (as usual) and I was sitting with some girls on my couch talking about relationships or something and I remember feeling like this was the time. So I finally told one of my best girl friends, one whom I had known since first grade, “I have to tell you something, I’m gay.” She obviously did not keep this quite and began asking more questions so that when ever anyone else came by and asked what we were talking about, I would simply respond, “I’m gay,” and continue on with explaining how I figured it out and how I had kept it a secret for all these years. I will always remember that night as my unintended, but self-initiated, coming out party. By the next day, everyone in my school knew. Funny how quickly gossip like that gets around...

          Apparently, I was just that kid that everyone needed to know was gay.

Faith

This is an essay I wrote for my Philosophy of Religion class which explores my thoughts on religious faith. If you guys like it let me know and I'll post more of my school work for your viewing pleasure.

The Delusion of Faith

            In The Virtue of Faith, Robert Adams argues that faith is a virtue even when that faith is based on no hard evidence. Although there is a chance that this faith may be correct and justified, the fact of that matter is that, without the use of practical evidence, the individual is merely guessing based on intuition. Although there is an argument for relying on one’s intuition at times, Adams argues that faith in God and faith in our loved ones (especially when they are innocent but accused guilty) is inherently virtuous. Indeed, past events and emotions are all apart of the evidence. Intuitions and gut feelings are a powerful tool humans use to recall and add significance to emotionally charges episodes of our lives, the ones that really impacted our livelihood. This view, that faith is automatically virtuous, is countered by Allen Woods who employs Clifford’s Principle in evaluating Adams’ claim. Overall, Woods demonstrates how blind faith can be just as “sinful,” if not more so than having less than absolute faith in God and those close to us. Without the use of practical evidence, the individual has no way of validating their beliefs, no matter how intuitive those beliefs may seem.

            Early on, Adams admits that he is flawed in that he can’t justify all of his beliefs, but he is nonetheless confident in his moralities, despite the set of circumstances. For example, he states, “I cannot prove that it is unreasonable to regard infanticide as a morally permissible method of population control; but I still think it a sin to hold that belief” (Adams, 6) in an attempt to get the reader to acknowledge that some things, such as the killing of babies, is immoral in all aspects. While this is a gruesome act to visualize and intuitively sickening, there exists in the modern world, circumstances in which baby killing may be necessary for the survival of the humans already alive on this planet. China, for example, has made the decision of limiting the number of children per family in an attempt to reduce population and save the future generations from resource depletion and starvation. In this case, the restriction on children has led to the killing of babies in one form or another, yet this act could very well save the future of China, more so than if they did nothing. Though the act may seem extreme, only time will tell if this restriction on number of children is either sinful or prudential. Intuitively, it may always seem better to sacrifice the life of an adult over a newborn baby, with all its innocence, but what if the adult is the father of five children who all depend on him, including the new born? Then the choice seems intuitively flipped, and sacrificing the father would be senseless. All this shows is that situational factors must be taking into account, as circumstantial evidence, and no generalizations or beliefs should receive absolute faith.

            Language is a specific area of cognition which is discussed by Adams in regards to the importance of having baseless faith in a system. During our childhood development, we are very impressionable. We take what we are told and belief it to be true. It is only around later childhood that we begin to make our own beliefs and correct the ones that were previously established in our minds. In terms of communication, a foundation for language is needed, and this changes very little throughout life. Yes, the meaning of some words will change or be modified, and you may learn other languages all together, but for the most part this foundation remains consistent and unchanged. Overtime, our brains have evolved to learn language in a very specific part of the brain specialized for this type of learning and information. Adams discusses how learning words of language as a baby requires faith in something without reasoning or knowing that it is true;

“Children acquire a large body of beliefs about the meanings of words long before they have either the intellectual capacity or adequate evidence to  justify those beliefs.… Communication among human beings depends on a sort of natural empathy which enables us, with remarkable reliability, to guess each other's meaning from very fragmentary evidence,” (Adams, 7).

Here, Adams makes a linguistic argument for faith, but this type of “faith” is specialized and only applies to learning fundamental skills such as language which are cultural and not rooted in cold reasoning. The meanings of words and elements of language must become standardized in the individuals of a society in order for them to effectively communicate and relate to one another. This is done at a very young age, in fact, starting before birth in prenatal, but as we age we lose this ability to learn new languages. Psychological studies have shown that it is nearly impossible for an individual to learn a language at all if not introduced to any language before the age of fourteen. So if the ability to learn language is rooted in our childhood, perhaps our ability to have faith in that which we have no evidence is also rooted in our childhood. Indeed, the minds of children are full of false fairytales: the Tooth Fairy, the Easter Bunny, and of course Santa Claus. While these beliefs are not validated when we get older, the language behind them is; the words and syntax used to convey these fairytales is still as true and functional to us as adults. We simply understand that these concepts were made up for us to keep us in line, just as religion does for adults. We continue to use and adapt our language to be a more accurate working dictionary, while the fairy tale concepts are left behind with their lack of both evidence and plausibility.

            Adams seems to view Woods as asking people to ignore all their emotions and just look at cold hard facts. But Woods counters this notion saying, “If viewing the evidence ‘in a cool and detached way’ means cutting yourself from this kind of evidence, then Clifford’s Principle clearly does not tell you to view the evidence in a ‘cool and detached’ way.” (Woods, 22) The idea is not to cut oneself off from emotions when evaluating a belief, but simply to value the facts over unsubstantiated beliefs. If you fully trust someone because they have always been there for you and never let you down, then these emotions are valid. But if the person has not been so dependable, or even malicious and manipulative, then such

positive emotions would not appear as accurate, and to have faith in that person over the facts would be irrational.

            Adams further discusses the value of faith and trust in our personal relationships. “Sometimes we trust another person on very little evidence indeed; and that is also of great value for human life,” (Adams, 7) but this notion is more of a double edged sword. Indeed, trust in our friends who have proven themselves time and time again is healthy and beneficial, but faith in someone that we love uncontrollably and in spite of sufficient evidence against his or her good nature, that is where we humans get into trouble and are misled by our passions and irrational emotions. Especially in our personal relationships, it is important to take a step back and reassure ourselves that this person is actually good for us and not just playing with our heart for his/her own benefit in the short term. This concept of level-headedness suggests that, yes, our emotions are a necessary part of our psychology and daily lives, but that it must be kept in check by our ability to reason what is best for us and others. It is of great value that so many Americans have faith in the democratic system, but that does not make us blind to the corruption that exists within every level of the government. It is this awareness that makes the system stronger, more responsible, and self-reliant, as opposed to a totalitarian dictatorship, where people simply trust in the ruler, even though he most certainly does not have their best interests in mind.

            Similarly, Adams says that people should believe in God regardless of evidence; “We have to trust His power and goodness in general, without having a blueprint of what He is going to do in detail. This is very disturbing because it entails a loss of our control of our own lives” (Adams, 12). This concept maybe worked for biblical societies where people were clueless about the natural forces at work, and therefore powerless in trying to control them. Nowadays, with television, internet, and social networking, people are enlightened, and as evident in the Arab Spring of 2011, more than capable of taking control of their situation and improving it. Yet Adams suggest that this loss of control is something we should all accept, because God exists and God is great, even though there is no hard evidence that either of those beliefs are true.

            Allen Woods has a different view of the world which is embodied in his interpretation of Clifford’s Principle. Woods values a healthy skepticism over an absolute faith that is blind, and arguably more negligent than pure. Adams may view the faith that Woods imbues as less virtuous and more “questioning” than simply trusting. “The point of Clifford’s Principle, however, is simply we should form our beliefs in accordance with the evidence – neither believing what it does not support nor omitting  to believe what it does support” (Woods, 16). There are some things that we will make beliefs about despite our  best reasoning, for instance, beliefs about race and ethnicity and how they affect behavior. We all subconsciously form generalizations about character and personality based on how we identify people. But to hold these beliefs so strongly that we consistently act on them instead of giving that individual the benefit of the doubt, then that is racist or discriminatory, but above all immoral. One of the main concepts in the study of psychology is about variability within our ethnicity and between these groups. Interestingly, we differ more within a race or ethnicity than between such groupings; our fundamental differences are thus cultural, and not physiological or psychological. Why we find the need to pit one group against another is beyond me. So, because we are more similar than different across ethnic groups, it would be inaccurate to assume certain generalizations are always right. Yet we humans discriminate constantly because of ignorance and egocentrism, both pitfalls of religious fundamentalists.

            As if walking into his own trap, Adams proposes an idea that offers another argument against the morality of unrestrained faith in a higher power. Faith without evidence “seems to free us to be ourselves in a different way -perhaps because do not see ourselves as responsible for the outcome in the same way as if we were clinging to a more controlling role,” (Adams, 14). When people do not feel responsible, however, is when they commit the most heinous acts of cruelty. People in the military learn to take orders from the chain of command, regardless of what the order is. If a platoon is told to wipe out a village, they do so with little sense of fault or responsibility. But if the village happens to be their own, or they are told to kill their own family, well then the soldiers would be far less likely to feel so cold and detached about the mission. And if they did carry out the orders, and became aware of what they had done, they would probably feel far more responsible than they if they were not related to the deceased. This shows the significance of emotional information and how people are willing to do awful things when they are able to remain detached, abandon responsibility, and lay the blame on someone else.

             To keep ourselves in line, we need to take responsibility for our actions and their consequences. Otherwise, “God made me do it,” or “God wanted this to happen,” would be at the root of every murderer’s legal defense. We are logical and adaptive creatures, and if we do not evaluate our actions and the results accordingly, then we will not progress or learn from our mistakes. If we take no action to correct our own flaws, then whose fault is that? In the words of William Shakespeare “Nothing will come of nothing.” Since we all want something out of this world, it would be unproductive and debilitating to put all of ones faith in God, and God alone.

            Overall, Adams is in favor of a blind faith that seems hinder our scientific progress in modern society. Woods suggests through Clifford’s Principle, however, that a more pure and justified form of faith can be attained by logically evaluating the evidence presented to us by our senses and emotionally charged memories. People are flawed, even the ones we are closes to and love the most, so viewing them as perfect and trusting them full-heartedly in any situation is ignoring the fact that we are only human. Each person has a history, and though people can change, we cannot ignore their past, whether good or bad. The main point is that faith and trust must still be founded on something substantial, such as hard evidence, or deep emotions that convey something about hard evidence.

(Also, I liked this article by Todd Pettigrew, Do religious universities serve the public good?)

Left-handedness and Homosexuality

Homosexuality is not a rare by any means. There are consistent rates of homosexuality and these differ between demographics, but in North America that rate is around 10-13% (source). So gays are about as rare as people who are left-handed (10% of the general population) but for some reason the former is far more threatening than the later.

When I notice someone is left handed, I don’t judge him and tell him he is wrong and perverted; I find it rather interesting, like a fun-fact about that person. Studies have even found benefits to left-handedness; John Hopkins University found that of college educated people, left-handers earn 10-15% more than their right-handed counterparts, and the brains of left-handed people are structured differently allowing better use of both sides and a wider range of abilities (Chris Mangus, University College London).

So it would be silly to label left-handed people as demented, sinister and wrong for civilized society… yet that is exactly what the church did less then a century ago. In fact, nuns in catholic school had a different name for the left-hand: “sinistra,” the use of which would result in an abusive wack from the ruler. Years later, neuroscientist would discover that the right-side of the brain controls the left side of the body, making the churches belief, that one side is “right” and the other side “wrong,” completely moot. That same ignorance is alive and well in right-wing politics.

Indeed, it would be easier for scissor manufacturers if all people had the same preference for right-handedness, but maybe there are confounded benefits to having a small percent of the population (say 10%) who pursue the contrary, for example left-handeness and homosexuality. Maybe some people are meant to be different for a reason. I think Charles Darwin would agree that a healthy ecosystem depends heavily on its biodiversity. Perhaps, maybe the same can be said about certain in-born behaviors in human beings, or any species for that matter. The success of so many different life forms seems to suggest that diversity, and having variations in behaviors and tendencies, is intrinsically beneficial for the system as a whole.

Close-minded people, however, do not see the potential in diversity, and therefore have no tolerance for what is outside the norm. They feel afraid and fearful of what they do not know or understand. They see all Muslims as terrorists, all Germans as Nazis, and all gays as pedophiles. Have terrorists been Muslim, Nazis German, or pedophiles gay? Yes, but to link all of those people with the worst then you are doing a serious injustice to all those innocent people that are for the most part, good people.

Aight, I’m going off on a tangent, so I’ll rap it up…

Gays are a necessary piece of the pie, even if we don’t know why.

Some of us are meant to be gay, ‘cause baby we were born this way!

Long Live Lady Gaga!

Peace.

Evangelicals Spew Hate, Ignorance, and Intolerance Into Uganda

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Relationships - Part III

            Sometime around 6^th grade, I came to the realization that I must be gay. I was a smart kid and knew that, since these feelings for guys were so strong and lasting, something had to be up. It was hard coming out to myself because I knew it meant that my life would not be the same simple path I had envisioned for myself. Basically, ever since I could remember, I had seen myself marrying a nice girl and having a family and kids of my own -- I just needed to have my own kids someday. This mentality explains how I handled myself with girls at a young age (see Part I). Finally, I faced the facts and came to the conclusion that I could either be a miserable fuck, or simply accept my fate and embrace being gay. In case you haven’t noticed, I went with the latter.

            Ultimately, I was more terrified of being a closeted fourty-year-old with kids and an empty marriage than an openly gay fourty-year-old with my man, my soul-mate and no kids… besides, there’s always advances being made in the baby making department; in vitro, surrogates, cloning. I didn’t know what was going to happen in terms of having kids but I knew that I had to focus on being happy, being me, and the rest would fall into place. If I was ever going to find Mr. Right, I would have to ditch these fears of being gay and start looking eventually.

            Still, it was difficult. I didn’t want to screw myself over socially, and I was still coming to terms with the whole gay thing myself. So I kept my mouth shut. Obviously, this took a toll on me psychologically. I became a hypocrite, and I hated myself for that. I would hear people use “gay” or “fag” as a derogatory slurs or to bash some kid for being a wimp, a loser, or an otherwise undesireable person. It killed me to hear the word, my ears would burn, and it always hit a chord.

            “Fagget!”

            'Yep that’s me,' I would think to myself. I even used the words in the same fashion myself from time to time, just to ward off any suspicions. I didn’t do it often though, because it stung my confidence and self-esteem each time. But still, the accusation came up publically one time when I was a freshman in high school. We were hanging out after school behind out town’s center shops, and the moment the kid said it I felt the adrenaline course through my veins, my heart beat through my chest as I felt the lump start to form in the back of my throat.

            “Na man, I’m not gay,” was all I could say. It hurt then and it still hurts now, but there wasn’t anything I could do about it. Society had convinced me that being gay was wrong and more frowned upon than dishonesty, so I lied and claimed to be straight for as long as I could.

            The summer before my senior year of high school, I came out to my friends and classmates. I planned to come out at that time, when I was at the top of the high school social hierarchy, just to try to change the perceptions of my younger peers and show all the other homos and normies that it's okay to be gay. After all, I was the student class president, captain of the wrestling team, and in the top ten percent of my grade academically, so if this guy’s gay maybe it’s not so bad to be a homo.

            It was a small town and I have yet to see any measurable impact on the younger generation, but I like to think that I changed some perceptions. I guess it’s also part of the reason I brought my act to the internet as a porn star; to change the minds of those closeted gays out there who still think homosexuality is only synonymous with flamboyant fairies who wear make-up and dance around in drag. There are a lot of butch, socially acceptable guys out there who are more attracted to other masculine guys than girls, and I’m just one of them. If you are one of those fairies please don’t be offended by this, because I love you girls and I know how sensitive you can be.

            Anyways, I know a lot of you gays have been waiting for this, so here’s how I lost my v-card… Before I get into this, I am warning the reader that there is going to be some graphic content in the form of gay butt-sex, so if you are not interested in reading such things, or know me personally, consider this your only warning. To any of my friends that come across this blog, if you do read on and find yourself wishing you hadn’t, then you only have yourself to blame. The following is a true story:

            It was around Christmas time my sophomore year of high school, which would have made me 16. I was at a friend’s Christmas party and some of his extended family was still around drinking Jägermeister (I grew up in a town of Irish Catholics and Italian mobster), but the kids from my grade and above were now outnumbering the family members. After a few hours of drinking, kids either left or passed out in the wreck room.              

              I had been drinking, but not as much as Billy. We were in the wreck room watching TV when I suggested we use the out door hot tub. Billy was down. We hopped in and lost the boxers since no one else was around or awake, plus we had been drinking so we were both in an uninhibited state of mind.

            As we were sitting there it got slightly akward, but only in the sense that we were both in a hot tub, naked, and were thinking about making a move, but neither of us wanted to make that move and potentially look like an idiot. Then Billy moved over to the controls, so I followed him, kind of rubbing up against him while pretending to look at the controls. He didn’t seem to mind, so I rubbed his hairy leg and he still didn’t react, so I slid my hand around his thigh and went for the goods.

            He immediately reciprocated, fondling my junk in return. We played with each other’s cock and balls for a minute before I went underwater and began blowing Billy. I guess he appreciated that, because then he went down on me and began sucking my cock. It was all really hot. I wrapped my legs around his body and then Billy did something that I did not expect. He placed his tip against my hole and pop! There went my virginity. He gave it a few good thrusts and it felt awesome. Sure I had played with my hole before, maybe got a finger half way up there in the shower, but this was completely different. Billy was pumping me like an animal, and I was fucking loving it.

            When I tried to get my turn, Billy came to, and realizing something was about to go up his butt for the first time, he backed off and we just left it at that. We hopped out of the hot tub, dried off, put our clothes back on, and went to bed.

            The next day, after I got home, I tried to contact Billy to talk about the incident, but he didn’t respond and seemed distant. When I did finally get a chance to talk to him, he acted like he didn’t remember. But I thought this was bullshit.

            “You put your dick up my ass, Billy,” I reminded him. He reacted with a look of denial rather than shock. While he still claimed to not remember the incident, he did relate how he wondered why us guys couldn’t be more intimate with each other, like lying next to each other while watching TV with our own friends. This open-mindedness to the idea of fraternal intimacy made me sure that deep down in Billy, there was a homosexual yearning that was ultimately suppressed by his heterosexuality and what was socially acceptable.

            I asked Billy if he would be down to mess around again, and he said yes, so we went up to the loft in my house and began playing with each others cocks and blowing one another. After that, I think the sobering idea of being gay freaked him out to much because we didn’t hook up again for a couple years. And when we did, it was forced, and awkward, and nothing really happened.

            I don’t think Billy wanted to admit that he might have been bisexual, or worse gay, but he was just the first of many guys I’ve come across that have in them the potential to be gay. What holds them back is fear, inhibitions, and the overriding idea that society will don’t accept that kind of behavior.

            All one has to do, however, is look at the research of Alfred Kinsey from the 1950’s to see that most guys are essential bisexual, and under the right conditions, will freely participate in acts of homosexuality. In my mind, these conditions are as follows:

1)    One-on-one

2)    With a close friend

3)    Under the influence of alcohol

WARNING: I’m not saying this will work every time, but if it’s going to happen, it’ll probably be under these circumstances.

Relationships - Part II

            Now on to 3^rd grade… Here is when I made those friendships that lasted through middle school and high school, and I still talk to some when I go home to this day. I started participating more in physical activities during recess, like kick ball and tag. And I started going to sleep-away camp in NH over the summer for two weeks at a time. Those experiences helped develop my social skills, especially when it came to meeting new people and trying new things. I also solidified my concept of the golden rule; treating others the way you want to be treated. Even today, I sometimes over-analyze situations in terms of how my actions may have made someone feel (with my straight guy friends, I usually find this is completely unnecessary). I became very sensitive to my own emotions and those of others at this time.

            It was 5^th grade, when I moved on to middle school, that I began my transition into adulthood. I was always old for my grade and an early bloomer (I had the first armpit hair out of most of my friends, even though it was blonde). I started going to the mall on the weekends to see movies and just hang out, so naturally, I started spending more time with the kids in my grade who had as much parental freedom as I did. From now one, I will be changing the names of people out of respect for their privacy.

            Two friends I established in this period were of particular importance: Billy and Scott. Billy lived the street over from me, he also had older siblings, a good deal of freedom, and was a light-hearted kid who was also old for our grade.  Every year starting from 5^th grade, Billy’s mom would let him have friends over for new years. It was that first year that I got a hold of enough champagne to get drunk. At the time, none of my friends believed me but I knew from my silliness and loss of balance that something was different.

            Scott also had older siblings, two brothers Mitch and Ben that were in the 6^th and 7^th grade at the time, and a father that was trying to do the best he could after a very difficult time when his wife abducted the children and ran away for a couple years, going in and out of half-way houses while battling her drug addictions. The overall affect on the kids was that Scott and Mitch never learned any boundaries or respect for authority. Their father, Mitch Sr., would give them a long leash in hopes that his kids would someday return to him in appreciation, but that never came to fruition. Only about a year after I befriended Scott and his who family, Mitch Sr. was brutally murdered by another dad in a hockey rink fight over a stupid pick-up game. The event was a tragedy for our small town and everyone who knew the family. It also received national attention (see news photo below) and the boys would eventually go on Oprah to talk about the incident and losing their father to the rage of another parent.

            Anyways, I started spending a lot more time with the whole family after that, but I especially gravitated towards Mitch Jr. He was the cockiest of his brother, the most mischievous, and the cruelest; he would make fun of kids in horrible ways, but would receive the laughter and respect of everyone else in the room at the same time. I became the center of his derision often because I was younger and didn’t have a leg to stand on when it came to making fun of people, I was far to nice of a kid. He was also charismatic. He could easily capture the attention of every girl in the room. The guys would notice this and follow suite. All the girls wanted to be with him, and all the guys wanted to be him. And getting the chance to hang out with him and his friends was worth the teasing. By the end of 5^th grade, I began to hang out with Mitch and his friends more than the friends in my own grade and that upset some of them, particularly Billy and Scott. But I didn’t care. I was so stoked to be hanging out with the “cool” kids, I thought my old friends were just jealous.

            I still remember the first day Mitch put his hands down my pants. I had invited him and another friend (more his than mine), Brad, up to the beach house my family rented in Gloucester, MA. We had been on the beach and Mitch started teasing me pretty hard, being a real dick, and wrestling me into the sand until I would submit. Brad eventually spoke up on my behalf, “Dude, he invites us up to his beach house and this is how you repay him?” Mitch finally let up and we headed back to the house like nothing happened, although I was still a little hurt.

            Now, Mitch and Brad were more developed than most kids their age, and they were quite proud of it, often whipping out their dicks for girls and to make other guys feel insecure. So when we all hoped in the shower to wash off the sand, Mitch and Brad immediately whipped theirs out and started comparing. Then they turned to me and told me to whip mine out. I was naturally intimidated, but I finally mustered up the courage to whip it out, immediately coveing my eyes to avoid any eye contact. All I heard was a roar of laughter as they bother said, “That’s it!?”
            “Well it’s not hard!” I responded. Now, I was only 11 at the time; I had just started to get my dark pubs and erections were still uncommon for me. Also, this was about six months before the first time I ejaculated. So they relished in my embarrassment. We finished showering, got into some fresh close, and headed upstairs to watch TV.

            It was as we were watching TV that night that Mitch made his move. All of a sudden, Mitch started sliding his hand up my thigh towards my crotch. I quivered from the tickle, looked at him, and asked, “What are you doing?”
            His response, “Don’t you want to be ready when a girl does it?” Seemed practical enough.
            I looked at Brad, he nodded nonchalantly and said, “It’s fine.”
            So I was down, and Mitch went up… further. He fondled me a little and that was that. But later that night, Mitch and I slept in the same bed, and I played with him, jerking him off and just playing with his junk.

            That summer I began jerking Mitch off and blowing him regularly. I wasn’t as turned on as I was intrigued by his maturity and cock size. I was thoroughly honored to get to play with this kid. He was the most popular cocky guy in 6^th grade, and in private, I got to play with his dick and blow him. I was fascinated by the thick cloudy cum that would gush up out of his wide pee hole, still never seeing such a sight from my own cock. It was exciting and interesting, and I was always beyond curious about such “adult” matters.

            Playing with Mitch was rather one sided (he never did blow me), but I was intellectually stimulated, socially secure, and sensually satisfied when fooling around with him, even though my sexual attractions hadn’t quite set in yet. We never kissed either -- that would have been too gay, and what we were doing was just feel-good experimentation, right? When I did start jerking off, it was to thoughts of fucking girls, but soon after I began replacing those girls with my close friends, particularly the ones who were first to hit puberty, grow hair, and develop muscles -- go figure.

            Mitch was always a dick to me in public, usually making fun of me for being Jewish and what not, but as long as I got to play with his junk at night, I was cool with it. Eventually, I did get sick of his ridicule, and after about six month of only hanging with Mitch and his friends, I would slink back to my own grade and my old friends, Scott and Billy, but they were still a little bitter about me deserting them.

            Stay tuned to find out which one I lost my virginity to in high school!

Realtionships - Part I

            The other day somebody asked if I could give my opinion on relationships. My motto: ask and you shall receive. So I guess it’s best to start at the very beginning.

            I have always been an exhibitionist, even before I can remember. My parents sometimes joke about my persistence in removing all of my clothes and diaper as a young toddler; they started duct-taping my diaper on, but even then I figured out how to peel the duct tape off and do away with the clothing norm of modern civilization. “Viva la Freedom,” I must have thought. One time, I sufficiently embarrassed my sister at her 13^th birthday party when I came running out naked, asking for cake like nothing at all was out of the ordinary.

            Some of my earliest memories consist of me and my preschool friends getting naked in my room just to see what’s going on down there, a playful comparison of parts. That was the first time I saw some other guys and girls junk that was not my mothers or fathers. We knew that we couldn’t tell our parents about it, but it was educational and informative nonetheless.

            In preschool and kindergarten, I had already absorbed enough to know that girls and boys kiss, so I tried it a few times with some girls my age, and I enjoyed it, but it never did anything for me… Not because I’m gay, but because I was 7 and 8 years old, duh. Anyways, I’ve always been sensually and romantically curious through out my latent sexuality. And this is why I think nobody really knows if they're gay until they hit puberty. I was pretty sure I liked kissing girls until I started jerking off to my guy friends in 6^th grade, but now I’m getting ahead of myself. Back to 2^nd grade.

            One valentine, I went all out on three girls, I just liked playing with them and I felt that I spent about the same time with each of them so they all deserved something special. I bought each of the girls a cheap gold locket and greeting cards from CVS. By the way, my mom was always supportive and a great resource in carrying out any of my nice gestures. I’ve have a lot of love to give and I thank my mom for helping to foster that virtue.

            I also had a small stuffed Lisa Frank dog (just a little gay, right?), that I named Mikey after, what I think was, my first gay crush in latent sexuality. Mikey was a good friend of mine that lived close by. We took the same bus to elementary school and we would often play together after school. Mikey would go on to be an all-American football jock who went to a private high school and yes, date girls. Still Mikey was one of the nicest, fairest, smartest, good-looking kids I knew at the time, and I respected him deeply as one of my first best friends. So I guess I channeled my platonic love for Mikey into the yellow stuffed dog I named after him. That dog was attached to my hip; I took him everywhere, made up stories and adventures for him, even coddled him like my own baby feeding him and empty bottle.

            One time I told my mom “I think I’m gunna feed Mikey his bottle on the bus.” My mother responded, “I don’t know if that’s a good idea, the boys might tease you.” To which I haughtily replied, “Well, then they aren’t going to make good fathers,” turning away as I held the bottle against the stuffed animal’s lips. My mother knew from that moment on that I was going to do just fine in this life. Already, I was confident about who I was and who I wanted to be.

(to be continued…)