Link: THE INTIATION
Around 1987 or 1988
I was either 16 or 17. I had three friends that I hung out with often. We would often catch the buss to the mall, check out the arcades and go to Tower Records and listen to the latest music that was out. I was the music fan. Often we would break up and they would go to the book store while I was stuck on the headphones.
They would often come back laughing and talking about the mischief they got into. On this particular day they came back and dragged me to the book store.
“What!” I shouted trying to figure out why this time they would drag me from my music.
“Just come here,” they coaxed, clawing me away form the headphones.
They walked me to the magazines. Anthony being the tallest would reach back to the furthest magazines and pulled out one with a guy in sexy short shorts.
I found it quite unique that out of all the dirty mags in the back, the gay one would be the one they would pick. But enough about that.
I had to wrap my head around seeing a picture of a guy with a penis inside his butt while he's on top taking it.
We decided to go to the arcade after the book store but my mind was still in that store thinking about the logistics of what I've witnessed.
I assure you, that is not where my dirty thoughts started. But this is where my Initiation into consuming gay porn started.
I found myself secretly visiting the book store to check out the gay dirty books when the clerks weren't paying attention.
I believe by 17, I was sneaking mags into my back pack though my guilty conscience caught up with me. Some times I would actually sneak the mags back into the store after a few days of entertaining myself with them.
Believe me when I say my moral conscious is a mother fucker.
I'm no goodie two shoes, but I know my conscience will bug the living sanity out of me if I don't somehow redeem myself. This is not always the case, but at least 8 times out of 10 I suck at being a criminal.
The old back pack trick. Way before leaving your bags at the register. Way before video cameras galore. That back pack hid a plethora of smut in its day. I actually had more porn in my backpack than school books and homework.
And then 18 happened.
18 was a happy time for me. I was old enough to vote. I will never forget being so ecstatic to finally participate in my new civic duties. It was a time of growing into adulthood and learning responsibility. It was also a moment in time when I could do grown up things that were forbidden as a youngster.
Forget alcohol! I never like it anyway. Drugs were never tried. I didn't like taking aspirin let alone some kind of recreational drug. My grown up thing was walking into that bookstore as big and bold as I wanted to and pick up that latest issue of Inches, Mandate, Drummer, Honcho and Playgirl.
The fact of the matter is, I was never that big and bold. I always took them to the most secluded spots in the store to look at them. When I found the ones that I wanted, I would wait until no one was around to make my purchase.
It would take me to about the age of 21 to actually be bold enough to walk up to those registers without major embarrassment. But 18 was my breakthrough moment when I could legally be a buying pervert.
Some time between 17 and 18 there was a girl in high school that liked me. I really wasn't physically attracted to her but we went steady anyway. She did it because she wanted some Mark. I did it to get everyone off my back as to why I didn't have a girlfriend by then although I did like her as a friend.
We actually became very close. I took her to her prom. We went to separate high schools but we saw each other regularly as we didn't live far from each other.
We stayed at each other's house listening to music. She was just as much of a music lover as I was. We were the perfect buddy team.
One day while visiting, I put my back pack down and ended up leaving it at her place.
Holy shit!
I hoped and prayed that she didn't open my back pack.
That next day, She called to let me know that my back pack was in her room on the ground.
It felt like my heart stopped.
This is where my memory gets foggy. She did open the bag and looked inside. I cannot recall her asking me about it then or if it stayed one of those "don't ask don't tell" kind of things until we broke off as just friends. We are talking 36 years ago, way before I took accurate notes in any journal. I do remember the anxiety I felt the next time I saw her.
About a decade or so would go by. Every now and then I would receive a surprise phone call from her and we would chat like it was just yesterday day.
During one of our conversations she confided in me that there was a lady that she had been talking to. that she really liked.
"Talking to?"
It still flew over my head. It wasn't until she asked me some advice how to pursue that, I understood fully what she was talking about. It was then when I brought up the backpack incident and officially came out to her. She mentioned that she did see what was inside.
We laughed about it. Her asking for advice was her way of coming out to me. It always amazes me people who aren't "born" gay nor know at an early age, how they get involved. She shared her story which shed some light.
We would keep in contact even after years of not hearing from each other and change of phone numbers and addresses. It has been almost 15 years since we have talked. We are about due for another phone call.
