I listen to Cigarettes After Sex and Men That I Trust as I wander the streets of New York.
I smile – sad smile for closeted younger version of myself, lonely and wandering a well remembered if faded watercolor fairground and the man that I saw there…
I never spoke to him, though we recognized each other – or, should I say that we recognized the truth in ourselves?
And that recognition was dangerous, reckless, unplanned and perfect.
I’ve written of him before and I’ve thought of him even more times than that…
We crossed paths on the cusp of momentous change.
And on an overcast Friday afternoon, I stumble for words to capture his vivid, pained echo, which has forever remained a part of me, despite the seemingly inconsequential nature of our subtle, surreptitious, serendipitous encounter.
This is a graphic story – so if you’re easily offended, my advice is just to fuck off right now while there’s still time.
Seriously. This could offend you or just completely reduce your opinion of me.
Or it might just make you laugh.
Or possibly it could do all of those things at the same time.
Still here?
Funny story. I mean, I think it’s funny. Others may disagree.
I once jerked off in the back of a station wagon, imagining one of my school bullies fucking me in dreamy soft focused lighting straight out of a Radley Metzger porno, though, of course that was years before I even knew who Radley Metzger was.
But this guy’s name was CENSORED, because, well, you’re about to find out.
And as my parents drove me to our local Meijer, I shot a load imagining CENSORED as some kind of sympathetic soul instead of the domineering asshat that he portrayed in my waking world at any given opportunity.
I don’t get off on being in cars or with my parents or in public… I was just very young, extremely horny, and had a relative amount of privacy.
I would probably have no memory of this, despite how outlandish it seems now, except that when arriving at our destination(s) I rounded a corner and walked directly into CENSORED’s chest – because he was taller than me at the time, so that’s where we connected.
Seriously.
I know why I blushed… I mean, my hand likely still smelled of the cum he’d wrangled out my teeny-bopper depths, but he blushed just as badly before we immediately headed in opposite directions and never once mentioned it to each other ever again.
So that was a long time ago.
But recently, Facebook decided we should be best buds – and I’m friends with a lot of people that were dicks to me in school.
I’m sure I was a dick to people too. School is like that.
And given the suggestion, and looking over his Facebook posts I saw that we seemed to have developed the same views on a lot of issues, (which I totally did not expect)…and so the friend request was sent even though I did not expect anything to come from it.
But as history apparently likes to repeat itself….
A few months ago I was jerking off again. Not to thoughts of CENSORED and not to Radley Metzger, because even though his films are hot, I respect them too much to beat off to them.
Don’t judge me. I know it’s wacky, but that’s not the point.
The point is…
that just as I was reaching the point of no return, a message flashed across my screen which read something like:
Friend Request to CENSORED Approved
And then I was most definitely thinking about CENSORED as I doused myself, again, years later.
And I’m still laughing about it now, and so I thought I’d share, because clearly I have no boundaries.
At least I wasn’t in a station wagon this time, which makes it slightly more classy, right?
