My secret sexuality led to self-discovery. As an emerging homosexual, I was the last to know which direction my pendulum would swing. I couldn’t express myself like Madonna.
Instead, I binged watch Queer As Folk, which was like Homosexuality 101—my clandestine crash course. I identified with Justin, a 17-year-old Twink pinning for older “daddy” types. We were the same age. Searching for a father figure myself had me repeating his mistakes a few years later. My penis was like a compass pointing to hot men with bulges and biceps.
Showtime showed me the way.
I remember my first kiss. I met Miles through the World Bank, a coterie of students around DC applied for “paid internships” which were really summer jobs. For someone hood-adjacent, they were coveted positions.
We exchanged numbers immediately. We talked for hours dancing around our sexualities like gay rappers. “I wanna see you,” he said. “I have a surprise for you.”
One morning I crept out of the house and met him at the monastery. I followed his directions by phone. A bus ride led me down the rabbit hole. From climbing behind bushes to skipping down a pebble walkway--it was almost romantic. Ivy vines cascaded down the side of the church like a waterfall. Butterflies filled my stomach each step I took towards him. I awaited his surprise.
“So what was you saying about us being close?”
“Yeah, I remember saying something like that.”
“Well, how close were you thinking?” He took a step closer to me dressed in his blue and white uniform.
“You can come closer than that.” I tilted my head to the side, my heart palpitating.
He pulled me close and kissed me. His lips were soft and full like a leather sofa. I can feel my penis arousing. He groped my ass and stuck his tongue down my throat.
My body began to rise like my own personal Jesus on Easter. Although we should leave Jesus out of it. But how could I, considering church was the backdrop of my first kiss.
We were surrounded by trees, I could hear the birds chirping, our backpacks on the floor. We stopped to check the time. We both had to be in class soon.
“Wait come here for a second,” he pulled my hand on his front. It had the consistency of a Sprite can, and suddenly my thirst needed to be quenched. He groped me from behind.
“Did you like your surprise?”
I did and I kissed him again.
I felt a sticky wetness at the bottom of my underwear. Damn, that kiss lingered on my lips like cherry chapstick.
I fantasized about him all afternoon. I imagined sitting on his lap, riding him like a magic carpet ride. And I was finally ready for him to show me the world.