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That First Realization… Thanks Jill!


Here’s a fond memory for you all. This is the exact moment I realized I ‘liked’ guys. How many people can remember that exact moment when they know for sure something profound about themselves that would shape the rest of their lives. Heh, actually, many people do. Still, this one is extra special to me.

All through Junior High, I had sat behind Jill Spiekerman in our GATE classes. For those that might not know, GATE is California’s Gifted and Talented Education Program. *yawns* The problem I had in school was that I was boooooooorrrreeedddd to tears. You make me repeat the same lessons over and over in class and then expect me to do it some more at home? I think not! So, when I started failing my classes, they tested me. They did some stupid IQ test thingy and lo, I was a 164 on whatever BS version they used. The lights went on and they switched me to the ‘advanced’ classes. Where they taught the same damn shit. Arghhhhh!

Anyway, I sat behind Jill for 2 years, bored into insensibility. I did enjoy stealing Doritos out of her jacket pocket in class. She would open one of those little bags, stick it in her pocket and sneak them over the course of the period. It was pretty amusing when she caught my hand in there midway. Heh. Needless to say, we got along pretty well, despite me being a weird kid.

So, after 2 years, I honestly think I had a mild crush on her. She was one of the few people who took me as I was and never said a bad thing about me. Our freshman year of high school, the only class we ended up in together was German 1. We would sit in class and just talk. It was nice.

Well, one day, Jill decided she wanted to talk about all the guys she ‘liked’. In other words, whom she thought was cute. Naturally, I was not on that list. And ya know what? It didn’t bother me. I mostly tuned out the droning, just kind of nodding now and then to keep things moving along. Then came the moment of ‘Aha!’. Scott Martel.

The name set off alarms, whistles, spinning red lights and even a skipped heart beat for just a second at the sound of his name. I remembered him from junior high. He was definitely cute. Actually, fuckin’ hot was more like it. The thought in my head after she said his name was, “Yeah, Scott is gorgeous!” And then the light went on. I liked guys! In that turned-on, instant boner way that all boys dread when in public and have no earthly control over.

Scott was that ideal California boy. Straight blond hair that just fell over his eyes. Tan all year round. Shortish (to me anyway, I had already hit 5’10” by 9th grade. He was maybe 5’6″), trim figure. Not into sports, but he played sax for band. Smart. In other words, F-ing dreamy! So, Jill pointed the way without a clue what had just happened under her nose.

Believe it or not, my next reaction was an internal shrug. I had quickly thought out the consequences and didn’t particularly care one way or another what people thought. Now, this was prior to my remembering all the delightful crap from my early childhood. I was generally an asshole and stuck pretty much to myself. Dating or even flirting weren’t on my mind at that point. Most of my masturbating was purely sensory oriented without visual aides to fantasize about. Scott filled that lack from then on. Heh. He’d probably freak if he saw this, even now.

I didn’t really keep quiet about it. Though, technically, I never said anything about being gay until after I left school. I had decided I really didn’t need people in my business. However, if someone bothered to ask me point blank, I always told them the truth. That has always been my policy regarding my sexuality. Since I was a loner, no one thought to ask.

Ok, no idea why this popped up to write about. Probably bored you all to tears… Heh heh, oh well. You made it to the end even! Are your eyes bleeding? Is Satan singing seductively in your brain now? Have I recruited you to the Dark side? Heh, thought not. Just wait until the subliminals kick in, then we’ll talk again!

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Trying out new things… here’s a memory to start off with.


I hated the Boy Scouts. At least by the time I hit high school I did. I was forced into a leadership position I didn’t want and didn’t like. The position of Senior Patrol Leader for the Troop seemed like a horrible excuse to have a target painted on your back. Everything that went wrong was always your fault and the other kids always came up with new and interesting trouble to get into for the parents to blame on me. Just a lovely way to spend my oh so plentiful spare time…

One of those herding maneuvers that got pulled on me by the ’adult’ leaders was getting sucked into the Order of the Arrow. It was supposed to be a subgroup that a guy is voted into and there had to be at least two qualified people to vote for or against. I was it. There wasn’t another guy. I certainly didn’t campaign for entry into that farce of an extension. I frankly wasn’t interested. Sure, it was the year of the Boy Scout’s Diamond Jubilee. Oh joy. And we got tapped out in a ceremony at the regional camping event for most of two counties. Gosh, golly.

I remember just being tired. Riding herd on the younger troop members all day and then getting stuck with that ceremonial farce. It didn’t do anything for me. It didn’t make me feel special. I wasn’t thrilled or excited. I was just tired and wanted to sleep. Naturally, they wanted us awake for the night. Again I say, joy.

A couple months later made up for it a little. Those of us tapped at the regional ceremony needed to participate in an Ordeal. We spent the weekend cleaning some campground with all of those that were tapped at the same time. Yawn. Oh and we had to do it all in complete silence. Not too much of an issue for me, in my anti-social mode, that was a blessing.

It gave me plenty of opportunity to ogle guys in perfect safety. After all, you need to pay attention pretty closely when using nonverbal communication to get things done. This one guy really caught my attention. Gorgeous, simply stunningly sexy hot. And assigned to the same crew I was. It made up for having to put up with all of the rest of it. This guy could have gone on to be an underwear model easily… for designer stuff, not JC Pennys. We clicked pretty well, staying near each other that whole day.

The clincher for me, and I still have it tucked away, were the nasty, naughty notes we passed back and forth when we were supposed to be listening to lengthy lectures on Scouting. Extremely provocative notes. To some degree, hazing each other in that young male exerting manhood by bullshit and name-calling way. Being called a cocksucker on paper didn’t phaze me in the least. Nor did the things I said he did cause him to so much as blink. The object was to get one of us to break that stupid silence. Neither of us did, though we went back and forth for a good hour and at least both sides of two pieces of paper.

I admit it, I had a total lusting crush on him by the end of the day. Our banter, nasty as it was, turned me on. And all without an actual word said. All of this happening right under the nose of the adults. They were totally oblivious. Frankly, so were we. Our focus was entirely on each other. Everything else just kind of faded into the background. The day ended, more ceremonial crap and then sleep. We took off for home the next morning.

I didn’t get his phone number or name or even troop number. I never got to see him again. But I also will never forget him. Nor will I throw away the notes we wrote each other. I don’t think he realized that I didn’t throw them away. Easy enough to slip them in my back pocket after carefully folding them. They are just the nasty crap teenage boys say to each other when trying for shock value… but they went a little different direction for me. It was my first experience at flirting. And I loved it!