How will I follow this up? I'm not sure but if you have any suggestions, feel free to chime in.
Part V
So
where would a young lad go to learn the actual mechanics of sex? How would I
ever demystify the act? Was it as scary as I thought? I certainly felt that way
in the confusion of teen hormones and social pressure.
When
I turned eighteen senior year of high school, I decided it time to do some
serious research. In a few short months, I was about to become a college boy
and girls would surely expect more than what I’d been able to provide to date.
In nearby Lowell there was an infamous adult bookstore
called Tower News. It sat on the outskirts of the downtown and ironically was
nearly right across the street from the comic book store where I shopped (and
dared never speak of at school). I’d heard the stories about the rows and rows
of porn mags and the infamous backroom, but I was a little afraid to go in
there. I was of legal age to view porn, but my Catholic guilt, the fear of
someone I knew seeing me go in there and the fact that even though I was
eighteen, I looked fifteen, all led to my fears.
After
weeks of planning, I finally got up the nerve, parked at the Zayre’s department
store a good distance from the store and made my way to the infamous news stand.
I walked in and a disinterested long haired greasy clerk at the counter barely
paid me any attention. There were racks and racks of magazines, both porn and
mainstream stuff like Sports Illustrated
and harder to find magazines like World
War II History Monthly. I think there were even some comic books. Not so
bad, I thought. I was also thankful that
there wasn’t anyone else in the store.
I
walked to the back of the store, waiting for someone to ask what I was doing or
for identification, but it never happened. In the backroom, I found a
collection of booths made from plywood spray painted black with doors for
privacy. I’m guessing if you’d have put a black light on the inside of the
booth, it’d have fluoresced like the Disney Electric Light Parade. Thankfully
it wasn’t sticky because I may have had to burn my clothes after the experience.
I
put a few dollars into a change machine, got eight quarters back, and found an
empty booth. Inside was a video screen with a slot to put in a quarter to start
the film. My hand trembled a bit as I slipped a quarter into the slot and a
projector sprang to life. Suddenly the screen lit up with a grainy film
featuring an attractive nude blonde women with big breasts and a hairy
seventies era bush getting busy with a guy who I don’t think most women would
have found attractive. Hmmm, I thought,
so that’s how it’s done correctly.
I
think it took about four minutes before the video stopped and I had to put in another quarter. I dropped another quarter in the slot and continued to watch, when suddenly I
heard a male voice whispering to me from the other side of the wall.
“Hey, hey,” the voice said. “Put your dick in the hole and I’ll suck it.”
Fear
coursed through my body and to my complete horror, I looked to my right and
there was a finger coming through a hole in the plywood.
“Come on, you know you want your dick sucked,”
the voice whispered.
I
may have, but not like this! I jumped up out of the booth, walked quickly
through the shop and exited the store, my head down for fear of making eye
contact. I sat in my car for a good twenty minutes, part confused and part
disgusted. Was someone playing a trick on me? I was completely baffled. My
biggest irrational fear was that my parents would find out that I had been in Tower
News and propositioned by a homosexual. I’d have been on lock down
until I was thirty!
It
was only years later during my time in law enforcement that I learned what a
glory hole was. Personally I don’t see the glory in sticking your junk in a
hole and having some random person fellate you, but hey, maybe that’s just me.
At least I’d had some of my sexual mechanics questions answered, even though
let’s face it, porn sets some extremely unrealistic expectations.
Despite
getting those pesky sexual mechanics issues answered, as I entered college later
that year, I still had no game, but had finally started to gain some measure of
confidence. I began to physically mature and the opposite sex definitely
noticed. Talking to girls never got easy for me, but I think I figured it out.
Don’t get me wrong, you’d have never found me in a bar using cheesy pickup
lines, but by sophomore year of college, I was regularly dating. There were a
lot of missed opportunities with some quality women that may have prevented a
lot of future misery, but I’ve learned that’s not something to dwell on.
Sometime
in that second year of college, I ended up in a relationship with my first love,
a girl who was going to the same school. After graduation, we got engaged as was
routinely expected in those days, but marriage scared the crap out of me. I was
still fairly emotionally immature at twenty-two years old and marriage at that
point would have been a recipe for failure. Just before I went in the Air
Force, we first delayed the wedding and later broke it off and went our
separate ways.
I
entered active duty as a single officer, which the military at that time didn’t
much care for. Even though I had to girlfriend, I felt pressured to be married by
my commander and so after about a year and half, I said I do to someone I
shouldn’t have.
That
may be fodder for future blogs, but the marriage endured over twenty-two years of
misery before we finally called it quits (I’m pretty stubborn…it’ll get better
tomorrow…it’ll get better tomorrow…it’ll get better tomorrow…).
I
suddenly found myself back out in the world single again. I was confident in
who I was this time around, but guess what…I still had no game. Thankfully,
technology was made for guys like me with dating sites where you can
communicate over email, text, etc. before meeting in person. After many first
dates, a few second and even third dates, I met a wonderful woman
(who ironically I’d gone to high school with!) and we fell in love; real adult
mature love…something I’d never experienced before After nearly three and half years together, we
bought a house together and got married.
So
yes, this sad little story has a happy ending...and not the kind you get at an Asian massage parlor.
I
still have no game…but I don’t need to anymore. Oh yeah…I also learned along the way that sex is
far from dirty. Of course it can be, but those type of puritan attitudes seem
to be slowly dying out in America.
Meanwhile,
I have a twenty-three year old son who I perceive as having no game…so the
legend continues. He definitely seems much smarter than I was about marriage
and maybe that’s his generation or the example I set for him.
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