Coming Out, the Preamble

Me as a teenager

I had sex with a man for the first time when I was 16 years old. I had sex with a woman for the first time when I was 16 years old. Oddly, I don't remember which was first. Both experiences were during the summer before my junior year. With the woman -- girl really -- it was a make-out session that went a little further. Now don't misunderstand: we didn't "go all the way" (as we called it then). Hell no. I was a good Catholic boy. That was not about to happen. We just went further than I had ever gone; to, as Mick Jagger might say, "Satisfaction." With the guy I went just as far, though with a far different reaction afterward. He was my best friend and we were spending the night at his house. I was the aggressor, or perhaps it's fair to say we both were. At any rate we agreed that I would if he would...

He did. I didn't.

I freaked. I had loved it, but I freaked. I felt dirty and guilty and sinful and was sure I was going to hell. The next morning I knew I was in hell as we shared breakfast with his Mom and tried to act like everything was ok. I couldn't get out of there fast enough. I knew I would never see him again and it went without saying that "it" would never, ever happen again.

And it didn't.

For six weeks.

Then it happened again. With him.

Same reaction, but not as intense. Before we could resolve all this, or try a third time, he left town and I didn't see him for several years. In the interim we both came out and I came to prefer sex with men -- and in fact had several more encounters with women too. I even "went all the way," but that's another story.

The best part of this story is that the ending has not yet been written. He's still my best friend.