It’s about four o’clock in the morning right now.
I just got back to my dorm from going to a gay club, and I plan to go to another gay club next weekend, for Halloween. Woo, so much fun.
The first time I went to a gay club was earlier this month, and on that occasion I found myself dancing with a really cute guy from the metro whom I envied, for he shared himself with two young men and both wanted him.
Tonight, I became that boy.
First, I started making out with a Hispanic guy who had a ponytail, and then I dragged a black guy into it. After tonguing the Hispanic for a bit, I turned, not wanting to be selfish, to the black one, and alternated back and forth. They didn’t mind taking turns.
Then I saw a cute white boy, a college student whom I’d picked out early on but been too shy to approach. I beckoned him to me, but he seemed unsure, so I did it again. When he finally came, I abandoned the other two without a thought and started kissing him. I asked him several questions and was too intoxicated to understand the answers, but I certainly enjoyed the kissing.
I can pick who I want and do what I want.
I love the power in that.
When I was younger I despised people who gained things through their looks, but that was before I realized such standards would ever apply to me, and now I undertake to verify them with something bordering on vengeance.
I seized the white boy’s chin and made him kiss me. He complied.
I told him to wait while I used the bathroom, and he did.
Then, though, I got kicked out for being too drunk (I only had four, but there I am, 127lbs, and what’s to be done?), and spent the rest of the night bored and wasted and horny and hoping the white guy didn’t think I blew him off.
I can’t wait for next weekend.
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5 comments:
Woo hoo! I'm glad you are out and living it up, B. Keep us posted! And have a great weekend.
Well, I always read what you write...so, even though I knew I wouldn't like it by the title...I read it. So, the question is, do I actually comment. Can I keep my mouth shut. I will compromise by saying that, we all had fun in college...that is part of it. We all (well most) drank too much in college...again, part of it. In my day, you didn't play with more than one person at a time. I think it is playing with fire, dangerous and I can't even grasp the appeal. I'm glad you are gaining confidence...be wise with how you use it.
Sue
Sue,
One of the most important things about blogging is the free exchange of ideas. Because everyone brings a different perspective, it means that I, a twenty-one-year-old college student, can see something through the eyes of a forty-something career woman, or a thirty-something stay-at-home mother, and that they can get a sense of my position.
Everyone is entitled to their own opinion, and even if it isn't an opinion that accords with my own I still want to hear it.
Please feel like you can always be honest in what you say to me. Unless you're overtly rude I won't be offended, and it helps you to learn more about a person when you disagree.
I really appreciate you being candid.
i would say be careful too. i mean this in the sense of creating a pattern, perhaps one that can over time objectify yourself and others/partners, which then alters you inside. i think gay men have it tough enough: too often emotional intimacy is sacrified for the thrill of sex, and that turns out to be a lonely place.
when i read this, brightest boy, the part about kissing several men at one time, i get these concerns about your self respect. do you know what i mean?
xo
BB - When my mom left her house to move into an assisted living facility, I received a box of stuff that had been in "my" bedroom (although it had never been MY bedroom in that house - my parents moved there when I was 34).
In that box were my journals I wrote starting at age 11 and up until about age 28.
Your post here reminds me very much of posts I wrote in my journal at your age. I have re-read some of them - not all, and certainly not most of them. I'm actually a little afraid to read them. The ones I did read left me sometimes cringing in self-conscious embarrassment, sometimes flooded with memory, sometimes ashamed and sometimes delighted.
Honesty is good. Experience is good. Imagine yourself reading your posts thirty years from now, and as you do the things you do and describe them honestly, think about whether you will like the person you were.
The entries I wrote that shame me now are those where I was unkind, cruel, selfish - where I quite obviously missed a human connection I should have made. And also those where I failed to value myself, failed to protect myself, risked harming the essential thing that made me - me.
Another thing about my journals - some of the things I read that I did I had no memory of. And I marvel that I did not end up dead, hurt, robbed or seriously messed up.
So take care of yourself. And take care of others, too - I worry that you might be taken advantage of people, but also don't be unkind and take advantage of them, either.
I am actually not sure what to do with these journals now. They are almost radioactive to me.
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