Free at Last

My first high school prom was my last high school prom. One of
the dads rented a suite of rooms in a nearby hotel, brought in
a case of champagne, and encouraged us to "have a good time with
the girls."

All the guys went into a huddle. A plan was hatched to get our
dates so drunk on the champagne they couldn't go anywhere else
except to bed with us.

I left the huddle to find the nearest bathroom where I could have
a panic attack. I couldn't be a part of that plan. I was gay.

"You don't look so good," my date observed when I got back to
her. "You're not going to be sick, are you? The party's just getting
started."

I thought about pretending to get sick until a better idea hit
me. I excused myself and went looking for a telephone.

What I did was call the hotel and ask the person who answered
to have me paged, there was an emergency at home. Then, putting
the receiver down, I ran back to my date to wait for the page.

"Excuse me," I said, and ran back to the phone.

I told my date and all the guys I had to get home fast, my mom
had just had a heart attack.

"You want one of us to drive you home?"

"No, I've already called a cab."

I walked home.

In college, there was a boy in my dorm who walked passed my room
very slowly when my door was open. But he waited until he caught
me in the showers down the hall before he introduced himself.

I didn't need to raise a hard-on for him to know I was gay, he
saw through me like I was transparent. The next thing I knew,
we were in his room getting it on.

"You haven't been with anybody, have you?" he asked, sitting up
on my stomach.

"It shows, huh?"

"You're almost afraid to touch me. You can't be that way. Relax.
You're not in high school anymore."