My first sexual experience was shortly after my 18th
birthday. Okay, let clarify that. My first sexual experience that didn’t
include some imaginary stud was shortly after my 18th birthday. (Imaginary studs are still the best!) I
believe it was early December of 1975, but all I will swear to is that it was
winter in Seattle, and I was 18. Legal.
I am sure at the time I knew his name, but it has long
slipped from my conscience. He owned an antique shop on Pioneer Square in
downtown Seattle. There the dirty deed
was done and I lost my virginity. Well, sort of. I gave him a blow job, but was
too nervous to reach orgasm myself. So, I could argue I was still a virgin.
But, I wasn’t. Damn, what a way to lose my cherry, if you will.
In defense of myself, it was a different time than today.
There was that off chance you could meet someone in church, but get real… that
wasn’t going to happen. No paramours in high school. I was way too uptight and
interested in being perceived as straight. And waiting for my wedding night was
unrealistic. I would still be a virgin. So a semi-anonymous encounter was how I
could finally touch another man who was gay.
No, I am not proud. But it is a part, a very small and very
huge part of my story.
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