If there’s one thing that sets humans apart from animals, it’s post-orgasmic guilt.
It’s that moment one sobers up in the time span of literally no more than a few heartbeats, when you realize Kleenex can wipe anything but the shame off your body.
You see, when you anonymously meet a Guy through a paid phone service and subsequently have sex with a complete stranger once, it’s easy to do it twice.
The act of sex was still mostly a mystery to me, but the act of meeting up a total stranger for the explicit purpose of having sex already felt strangely habitual. It had been about a week since I lost a decent chunk of my virginity. I was proud of having some sexual experience to speak of. That pride must have inspired me to hook up with yet another Guy, another unknown whose voice I had heard on a phone box.
I reckon it must sound like a sad concept: Back in 2006 and perhaps still today, thousands of Guys look for sex over the phone. It’s the perfect medium to hide yourself. I was hiding too. My first steps into active homosexuality were not something I would tell my mother about. I had confided my one sexual escapade to a few close friends, but to the rest of the world I was still a heterosexual virgin in search of a girlfriend.
Phone lines were the perfect tool for closet cases such as myself, and Guy #2.
Guy #2 claimed to be a straight Guy who simply wanted to experiment. I advertized myself like that as well. As if to make a point of his heterosexuality, Guy #2 had put up straight porn on his television, no doubt in an attempt to throw a little eroticism into the equation. The porn somehow added to the overall feeling of sadness I was having.
Things started getting a bit weird when I found out that, between Guy #2 and me, I had the most experience. I had kissed a naked Guy the week before. Guy #2 claimed to have no sexual experience whatsoever, which I suppose made me the ranking officer on deck.
Needless to say, sex between two people who know so little of each other, so little of themselves and even less of sex itself is pitiful. It was about as coherent as Ashley Simpson lip syncing her way through Saturday Night Live, that’s how inept we both were. It didn’t help I wasn’t at all attracted to Guy #2. The only reason I was doing this awkward routine called sex was the fact I hadn’t had any sex for the first 24 years of my life. I figured I had to start somewhere.
The Guy’s name was the same as my dad’s, by the way. It made not thinking of my father difficult. That little hint of incest distracted me more than the straight porn in the background.
It wasn’t long before I just wanted to go home again, to take a shower. My previous sexual encounter had already taught me there’s an easy way to end a gay date quickly: Coming.
Coming can come at a price, though, and that price is post-orgasmic guilt.
Me and Guy #2 both felt it.
‘I think I will like girls better,’ was the first thing Guy #2 said after reaching for his Kleenex. I couldn’t care enough about his thoughts to be offended.
I imagine most people know what it’s like to have sex that’s regrettable. I reckon it happens because it’s deceptively easy to lose your sense of worth sometimes. My sense of worth wasn’t in great shape, in large part on account of my near everlasting virginity.
Everything has to start somewhere, or so I figured, foregoing the fact that Guy #2 and I had nothing in common, except for our loneliness and confusion perhaps.
However, I had noticed how Guy #2 had complimented my looks, just like Guy #1 the week before. Sure, it’s the easiest compliment to give on a sex date, but I got the impression they both meant it. Even though the shower was long and cathartic when I got home, I did feel more attractive than usual.
Feeling attractive proved good for my sense of worthiness.
Guy #2 and I did not stay in touch. I guess we both reminded each other too much of our post-orgasmic guilt. It happens on sex dates. If you try something intimate with someone you have absolutely no connection with on any meaningful level, it’s impossible to not feel awkward about it afterward.
Yet somehow, after that much needed shower, I felt more attractive than I had in a long, long time.
I have Guy #2 to thank for that.