Everyone remembers the first time they had sex. It sticks in your memory and can help shape future desires and preferences.
I was scanning photos into my computer when I found this one — the only one — of Steve, the first guy I had sex with. I don’t remember Steve’s last name; he only lived in town for a few short months and moved before he made the yearbook. I blurred his identity since I don’t know what his current sexuality or situation is.
It was the summer of 1988. I was 16 and he was 17. That’s George Michael‘s Faith cassette next to him on the bed. This picture was taken the “day after;” George had kindly provided mood music the night before. I still can’t hear “Father Figure” or “Kissing a Fool” without thinking about that night.
I feel a compelling need to track Steve down so we can talk. I owe him an apology.
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I’d already had sex with a girl when I was 14 or 15. It didn’t really do much for me and I hadn’t pursued other chances to do it again. (Instead, I thought about becoming a priest even though I’m not Catholic. Seriously.)
Then I met Steve. I was full of confusion because I knew what I wanted, but I didn’t have the words to explain it. We clicked and I loved him as only first loves can. I couldn’t tell him, of course, but apparently my desire was clear.
Pulled Together
My “bedroom” was the top landing of our stairway. Technically, it was a one bedroom apartment, but we’d improvised. The drawback was that mom’s room was the only other room upstairs other than the bathroom. My bed was outside the door to her room; I’m standing in her doorway to take the picture.
Steve slept over at my house one night and insisted we sleep downstairs in the living room because it was “too hot” upstairs since we didn’t have air conditioning. We stayed up late talking and at one point he just asked me, “Are you gay? Do you like me?”
I shyly acknowledged that I did like him, but doubted the whole gay thing. He shocked me by telling me that he was gay and liked me too. It didn’t take long after that for us to end up wrapped in each other’s arms.
We continued the relationship as the next couple of months sped by until it was time to go back to school. Suddenly, I was panic stricken. What would happen when we went back to class? Would someone find out? Would everyone know our secret?
Steve and I had a mutual friend, Steph. I adored her and so did he. She was in his grade and they got to talk in class, while I only hung out with her between classes or after school. One afternoon, Steve followed me home in a really good mood.
“It’s a beautiful day and I feel so free!”
“Why?”
“I told Steph about us.”
My knees buckled. I sat down on the front steps to my house in shock and started to cry. I asked Steve to leave and shook with fear that my mom would find out. While I was always the class fag, how could I prove them right? I wasn’t the horrible names classmates had called me. No one liked a faggot – that had been made abundantly clear from the many beatings I’d already endured.
It was all Steve’s fault. I was angry. I was scared. I was young and stupid.
Pushed Apart
When he came back an hour or so later to talk, we went up to my room. My mom was at work so we didn’t have to worry about being overheard. I screamed at him that he was going to shame me into suicide. I blamed him for beatings I would get. Then I did the unforgivable. I got conniving and realized what I “had” to do.
He reached out to me and told me he loved me. And I spit in his face.
I called him names like “faggot” and “queer.” I told him I wasn’t like him and never wanted to be. I said that I’d tell everyone he was lying and that he’d told me about being gay and I’d rejected him. I told him to leave and never come back.
And then I punched him. Again and again and again I hit him – trying to release all of the hurt and sickness I felt inside for his honesty about being exactly what I’d always been despised for. I raged and I shook and I yelled. I cried for his love that I couldn’t accept and I screamed at the pain I’d felt myself as each punch landed. I beat him for what seemed like hours, days, years. He never raised so much as an arm to defend himself.
“No one likes a faggot,” I hissed at as he retreated. I spit on him again as he left my house shell shocked and wounded.
When it eventually got around school that he and I had been sleeping together, I spun a big story about how he’d hit on me, I’d rejected him and he was just making up sick queer fantasies. I lied. Over and over again, I lied. I denied him in public while at home I cried because I wanted him.
I’m ashamed of what I did, but I’ve never apologized. His family moved away two weeks later. I don’t know where he went or what’s ever become of him. I don’t know if he’s gay, bisexual or even straight. Does he have a partner? Was he ever the same? Did I kill the same part of him that died in me with my inexcusable reaction? I don’t know.
One week after Steve moved away, my mom sat me down on the couch. She told me that she’d heard the rumors of Steve and I. She told me that she didn’t want to know the truth, but that she’d better not hear anything of the sort about any other friends of mine.
“Homosexuality is disgusting and God will punish you for it. No one likes a faggot,” she lectured me.
I’d already learned that lesson. It wasn’t the first time I’d heard that recently.
I’m sorry, Steve. Forgive me.
Charlie Daniel Robbins
?
Ogre Magi
A certain amount of stupidity is forgivable when one is young, but what the author of this peace did was horrible.He is the kind of person that deserves nothing but hatred and scorn
Victor Barry
Homophobia is damaging.
Rocinante
Its a shame Mr. Ogre here doesn’t understand the concept of sincere apologies and forgiveness. Many of us from that generation and before did things we regret in our deep desire to keep our secret, secret. I want to thank the author for sharing, I imagine what you did wasn’t, maybe even now isn’t as rare as we would like it to be. Unfortunately the deep seeded shame society instilled and still does in a lot cases, causes some very regretful behavior. At the moment this is going on, it’s so entrenched, keeping that secret is on the brings out survival level reactions, you believe inside your very survival depends on this aspect of ones psyche stay hidden both to oneself and the rest of society.
Lvng1Tor
@Ogre Magi: what is it like to live in paradise and be so perfect that you can look down on everyone else with that cold detached judgement?
No one is allowed to ever be forgiven, to grow to make up the wrongs they did? Maybe you can be the ultimate jury and just euthanise anyone who doesn’t live up to your standards.
The author moved me. There are those I wish would apologize to me for the way they treated me and then later finding out they are gay…and then there are those I owe apologies to.
The way I was treated and treated others is why I do the job i do now. To help queer kids live productive, happy and healthy lives.
Scribe38
First loves stay with you and colors other relationships. I clearly remember my first, his mouth, hands, and smile; but I also, remember his fear of being found out and how reckless he was with my heart (listening to this girl brag about how good he was in bed). The fact that the author feels remorse for horrible behavior gives me a little hope that so does my first. Guilt is a good thing, if it forces you to be a better person.
martinbakman
“Did I kill the same part of him that died in me with my inexcusable reaction?” <– What exactly is he saying here?
Kieran
Steve should have asked whether it was okay to divulge the sexual relationship to others at the high school. That’s just common courtesy and respect.
BigG
Nice peace of fiction.
corey
This made me very emotional. I hope you and Steve have found some acceptance and peace about this situation. Time flies so fast. I was just talking to a few friends last night, while opening presents, why one of my friends was still a friend after all the ups and downs, the fist fight, the drinking, drugs, orgies, not talking for months and years in between. Now we are both almost fifty, and the last twenty twenty have been a more “grown-up” time for both of us. My point being, what seemed so horrendous, what happened when we were on our teens and early twenties, seems so far away now, and unimportant, even though we talk of the positive be and negative emotional tole it took on us both, we are different people now, and today is what matters most. In my heart, I truly believe, if you and Steve met today, he would give you a big hug. And I hope that’s what happens, as I hope, where ever he is, if reading this, reaches out to you. If this does happen, you MUST, share the story, because many of us have been through similar situations. And the good thing about the Internet is, you can keep his identity secret, if he wants it that way. Your story really has moved me, made me again, appreciate the friend who I was speaking about, who I now spend Thanksgiving and Christmas with, and who is in my life today, in a way that I would never think possible, with acceptance, forgiveness, gratitude and graciousness.
corey
@Ogre Magi: troll
Linda Dublin
Sometimes you have to rise above the way you were raised.
michaelmt1009
For those of you who never had to go through the anguish and fear of being found out, it was a very real emotion for so many of us of a certain age. Denial and pointing the finger in another direction was sometimes the only option that our young minds could do to “protect” ourselves from being found out. My heart goes out to this man and all they pain and guilt he has carried. He just took a giant step by admitting his mistake and forgiving himself. Its a valuable lesson to all of us that have been in similar situations.
Lauren Clarke
Hard to read 🙁
gaym50ish
This is what self-hate does to people, and it’s entirely the fault of this man’s religious mother and their church.
Phil Donahue said 25 years ago on his TV show that the religions of the world needed to atone for the harm they have caused to gay people. With many homophobic religious groups, that has still not happened, and they still won’t own up to the harm and even deaths that they have caused.
Kinny Kins
Brutal
Ogre Magi
@corey: Troll? DO YOU THINK WHAT HE DID WAS OK?????
JPVG1085
@corey:
To Corey:
Wow, what a wonderful response. You have captured so much in an obviously well thought out post. Thank you. I merely wish that I knew you.
Vielen Dank!
Viele Grüße
Johan
JPVG1085
@gaym50ish: @gaym50ish:
Organised religion has caused more pain and death than wars. I was raised as a catholic. But it caused me nothing but ten years of psychoanalysis.
Danke.
Johan
Rob Moore
I think more than a few of us have similar stories. I had sex with another boy a few times when I was 13 and 14. He was a few months older but not enough to make him significantly different from me. Then I skipped sex with anyone but my hand until I was 18. It was a girl. I was clumsy but got through it. Then there was Wayne. I was 19 and he was 20. We had been friends for more than a year when it happened. I got nuts, and never spoke to him, again. He left college before my shame and regret at my treatment of him really overwhelmed my sense of shame about being gay.
Samuel Johnson-Erickson
Mine was similar. I always wondered what happened to Cory. Being 15 and confused is not fun. To be outed when your defiantly not ready (I didn’t come out until 23) defiantly makes some inner turmoil. I wish I had just been honest with myself and friends.
onthemark
@Kieran: “Steve should have asked whether it was okay to divulge the sexual relationship to others at the high school. That’s just common courtesy and respect.”
Yeah, very important point. Also I wonder how Steve phrased it to others. Somehow it’s hard to imagine “me and Bil are gay and in a relationship” or something as neutral as that.
More likely, “Bil gave me a bl0w job!” followed by derisive laughter. The untold subtext here seems to be that Steve was the top. The author takes bottom-shaming for granted, even now, 25+ years later, to a GAY audience. Pretty weird. I didn’t grow up religious so I don’t know what that’s like, and I’ll take other posters’ word for that stuff. But I doubt Steve is the hero here.
David Braciak
Very sad and hard to read. Especially his mothers response at the end.
Brian
George Michael, Rick Astley, Madonna, Thompson Twins, Bananarama, The Cure, Human League…these were the acts whose sounds dominated the glorious 80’s, the best time ever to come out.
If I could turn back time, I would go back to a nightclub I frequented on a Friday night with the DJ blaring Bananarama’s Love In The First Degree, disco lights shining on the dance floor and ceiling, life being an incredible adventure…and Michael, that handsome man of Irish stock whose tongue explored the insides of my mouth.
callenstewart
@Rocinante: @Ogre Magi: No, you’re wrong. Shame, fear and self-loathing gripped him and he lashed out. I remember those same feelings. I hope that Steve reads his account and they can make amends.
callenstewart
@Rocinante: Totally agree.
Thomasina McNaughton
Terrible, and what a dreadful excuse for a mother, she raised him so well that the guy lived in denial. Religion has so much to answer for.
onthemark
@Brian: Gee, Brian, it almost sounds like you were into the “gay scene” back then. You COULD have ended up a normal gay guy. What the f*ck happened?
jantheman4903
was the second-mostfem kid in a farm town. i joined in sometimes verbally abusing the mostfem..till he left for a mental restitution at a hospital n a better life. bothered me for years.ran into him when i was 40 at party. apologized. he said no big deal.but god i felt better.