Everyone remembers the first time they had sex. It sticks in your memory and can help shape future sexual desires and preferences.
As I was scanning my photos into the computer, 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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
I'm sorry, Steve. Forgive me.
Comment on this entry
Wow, Bil, I started reading this expecting something entirely different.
I really respect and appreciate your honesty here. I hope Steve reads this and the two of you are able to reconnect after all these years and speak about this.
Brynn Craffey | February 20, 2008 3:44 PM
Bil, honey, you just made me cry at work! *hugs* It's easy to beat yourself up over nasty mistakes you've made in the past, and I hope you do get to feel absolution--and that you have forgiven, or will forgive, yourself. I feel for the scared boy of the past--and I'm also gladdened to see the beautiful and successful person you've since grown into. Honey, you rock my world. And I hope you get to give him the apology you want to.
Entirely Unrelated--TypeKey isn't letting me login to comment and I don't know why.
Midgetqueen | February 20, 2008 4:06 PM
I think it is brave of you to write this and I thank you for doing so. It reminds me of opportunities I had for love that I couldn't accept because I hated myself so much.
The summer between my junior and senior years of high school, Scott moved to town. His father was the new vice-principal. We met on the summer baseball team. We started hanging out and one day, after we had spent the whole day together we were sitting on the floor at his house. He tried to kiss me. I had fantasized about that moment and wanted it more than he'll ever know but at the moment, I was so terrified that I just got up and ran out of the house. After that, he barely spoke to me. I think he was scared I was going to out him.
I often think about him and wonder how he is.
Chad | February 20, 2008 4:10 PM
Bil, Even as a straight woman, this story made me cry. Here you are the boy beat up for being a "faggot" . Then you do the same thing to one of your own. Who can blame you?
I've learned that the reason we humans have such trouble accepting ourselves for purely who we are as individuals is because of fear of judgment. Religious and societal taboos and judgment keep so many souls chained and trembling inside closets of fear and shame.
So many souls have no respect (self esteem) for self, which ultimatley leads them to have no respect for others, for we cannot respect others if we are first not honest about who we are as individuals.
Wouldn't you have loved to tell your first love how you really felt instead of spitting into his face?
This is exactly why we must ALWAYS stand up against the bigots that keep individuals from working through their esteem needs, for they keep humans from self-actualizing.
Maslow said only two percent of the population self-actualizes. More than that need to achieve actualization or our planet will not evolve. It is critical that we, as a society are tolerant of diversity so that individuals can actualize.
The point of this physical life is to self-actualize and create. Again, it is critical for the evolution of our planet for more people to be free to self-actualize.
Your story (and others like yours) help advance that goal.
I hope you find your first love again and that you get a chance to process this pain by talking with your friend and listening to some George Michael again.
One day no boy or girl will feel bad just for being who they are as an individual whether they be straight or gay if we all work to advance actualization of the individual.
God bless you for telling this personal story. Just by saying it, you are helping others.
Melyssa
Indianapolis, IN
Melyssa | February 20, 2008 4:20 PM
Thanks everyone. It took me about 2 weeks to write this post. I've agonized over it... Should I include the picture? How graphic should it be? Should I focus on the actual "first time" of sex - or the actual first time of being in love. I tried to do both. I hope it worked.
Bil Browning | February 20, 2008 4:42 PM
Great post.
The first time I was with another boy we were both 15. My father walked in on us. Need I say more?
FatherFaggot | February 20, 2008 6:05 PM
Oh, my, Bil Browning. Thanks for sharing.
Alex Blaze | February 20, 2008 7:07 PM
Yowzer. That's heavy. I'm sorry.
How has your relationship with your mother evolved?
Rory | February 21, 2008 12:06 AM
That is a very powerful and moving story. Thanks for sharing.
Paula | February 21, 2008 10:53 AM
bill, that was so sad.... but you aren't alone. i was in terrible denial about who i was. i did a lot of things that i regret terribly....all to prove how much of a man i was.... at the time, back in the 1960's, i don't think there were many other options.
i am glad you have found the courage to love yourself and others. me, too. if i have learned anything, it is that we need to make the world a friendlier, more understanding place for our youth. and that is happening. in spite of the bigotry that exists today, it is better than it used to be. did you see the movie "Blind Faith"? it was on the tube on sunday, i think. it broke my heart.
you did what you felt you had to do. so did i. i am not proud, but you know what? we survived, and we are better for it. you take care. you are brave and you are beautiful. love you...
jerindc | February 21, 2008 7:41 PM
My name is the asme as yours if you drop the "ing". Unfortunately I was on the receiving end of the spit and name calling. That age is very difficult to go through. Even without the gay or interaccial portions I still suffered as it was my first time. I've grown up and hopefully so has Steve.
Love ya,
Bill Browne
Bill Browne | February 21, 2008 9:22 PM
I spent most of the night thinking about this one and it has made an impression. I know that a lot of people have posted supportive comments and I admire your willingness to share and I do truly believe that you are sorry. I still find this to be totally inexcusable and I can find nothing supportive to say in this. This was a horror that could have colored the entire life of another person. At the age of 16 I couldn't imagine doing this to a person. Even a 16 year old knows better than to do this. I remember my teenage lovers and I can't imagine this ever happening. I hope that you do find him someday and that you do appologize to him for his sake and whatever pain of his that it may assuage.
Rob Barton | April 27, 2008 8:47 AM
Rob,
Thanks for your comment. You're right on all accounts. I am sorry and I was a monster. It was inexcusable behavior. My only excuse was that I wasn't out, I'd only been having sex with another guy for a couple of months and I was scared shitless.
Unfortunately, I'm not the only person who's made a bad judgement call in their teenage years - especially when it surrounds sexuality issues.
Bil Browning | April 27, 2008 9:18 AM
Bil, from having written a book length manuscript about difficulties I have endured in life I know that you are glad you got this out. It is a purging. I'm very sorry to say that I missed reading this piece when it first came around. I looked at the title and thought: "Oh, it will just be something cute."
Instead, you reached in to your center and pulled out an old hurt you feel you have inflicted on someone else, and yourself. Now, the important thing, is to let that hurt go, it is over half your life ago, and you were the younger of the two involved. Forgive yourself. I am sure on many levels you already have. I recently contacted an old friend I thought I had wronged and he couldn't remember the problem had even existed.
Now, I would like to wring Steph's neck for spilling the beans, but she was just a kid herself.
Robert Ganshorn | May 7, 2008 10:06 AM
It should be perfectly possible to find him if you want to spend the time and effort to do so. If they owned the home they lived in Tax records and property records are freely searchable. Often they are online now. If that is not a option, I believe that you could retrieve his name via school records. Or at least you could find all the Steve's who went to your school in that time frame.
I would suggest you find him and talk to this man. Why wait and maybe loose that opportunity?
Sam
Sam Lynn | May 27, 2008 2:16 PM
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