Guilt and Shame: My First Night with My First Boyfriend

December 16, 1979, a week before Christmas.  It's the end of my first date with Fred the ministerial student: a farmboy from central Illinois, 28 years old, tall, broad-shouldered, smooth hard chest. 

We sit on the couch in his tiny apartment in Davenport, Iowa.   He refuses kissing, instead pushing my head down over his crotch.  I unzip him. Huge!  Granted, this is only the fourth guy I've been with, but I've seen a lot of cocks, and...well, just huge!  I try to go all the way down on him, but my gag reflex kicks in before I get halfway.  I cough and sputter.


Fred:  Shall we go into the bedroom?

We go to the bedroom, take off our clothes, and fondle each other.  I kiss and lick his chest.  He pulls down the covers on the bed and pushes me down, throwing my legs in the air. 

Boomer:  Wait -- what are you doing?

Fred:  Aren't you a bottom?

Boomer:  Um...what's that?

I am not yet aware of the existence of anal sex.  I think that gay guys just suck and masturbate each other.

Fred:  I'll explain later.

He switches positions for 69 and goes down on me while his cock pushes against my face.  I try to take him, but he's too big, choking me.

Boomer:  Wait...wait...let's try something else.

I turn him over onto his back and go down on him while beating off.  My jaw is going to ache tomorrow!  I don't swallow -- it squirts out all over his chest and belly and the bedsheets.  I run to the bathroom and get a towel.

Fred:  Thanks, but after all that, I think I need a shower.

He grabs the towel and goes into the bathroom.  I hear the shower running.  I beat off, thinking of his body glistening in the stream of water, and finish and wipe off with kleenix.  He returns and climbs in bed next to me and turns off the light.  He wraps his massive arms around me in the darkness.

Fred:  It's all right...it's ok.

Boomer: Huh?  What's all right?

What is he comforting me for?  Not swallowing? Grated, the sex wasn't great, but it's not my fault he has a big cock.

 Fred: Aren't you feeling guilty?

Boomer:  Guilty about what?

Fred:  About having sex with a man, of course.

Boomer:  Why would that bother me?

He turns the light back on and leans up on one elbow. 

Fred:  Are you trying to tell me that you have no guilt feelings about being gay?  After a whole society has been telling you your whole life that you're sick, disgusting, a criminal?

Boomer:  No, not at all.

Fred:  Man, I envy you.  I feel guilty all the time. You see all the images of homos on tv: they're pathetic little weaklings, sissies, flauncing around with limp wrists and lisps, thinking about nothing but Judy Garland and shopping, and I think 'Is that me?'  It's like being gay is about a betrayal of my manhood.  How do you avoid the feeling of shame?

I've only known that gay people exist for a few years, and my images were of guys like Jody on Soap: not particularly swishy  I heard about 'fags' and 'fairies,' but I never thought of them as gay, just as hetero guys too feminine to get girls.

Boomer: I guess I never worried about being too feminine.

Fred:Well, you're a bottom, so that's not your problem.  But I'm also feeling guilty because being gay will be a big disappointment for my parents. They'll never hear about any of my friends or romances.  No daughter in law, no grandchildren to spoil.  Since my brother can't have kids, the family name ends with me.

And all the media saying "Love and marriage is the meaning of life."  If you don't have a wife and kids, you've lost out, you're worthless.   I know it's just brainwashing, but the guilt just comes over me.  How do you avoid it?

How did I avoid it? I wonder.  I got the "What girl do you like?" litany over and over, the "wife, kids, job, house is your destiny" bit as long as I  could remember.  Finding out that it was possible to not get married, not have kids, to share your life with a man, came as a profound relief.

Boomer:  I don't know.  Following society's expectations was just never important to me, I guess. I was a Nazarene, so I was breaking social rules every day.

Fred:  What about your church? The Nazarenes won't even let you go to a movie.  They must think that homos are like incarnate demons.  I mean, I'm liberal, and I still hear the Book of Leviticus in my head every time I go to screw a guy.  Isn't that why you said no to Greek?

I never heard of gay people or gay sex mentioned, not once, from a Sunday school teacher, preacher, evangelist, or friend, until about my senior year of high school, when the new preacher discovered homa-sekshuls and started attributing everything from earthquakes to car accidents to God punishing Christians for not hating them adequately.

Boomer:  Well, our pastor does scream about homa-sekshuls in every sermon, but he's an idiot. Who cares what he thinks?  Even Nazarenes know that the Levitical Code doesn't apply to contemporary Christians.

Fred:  Hmm.  You're one of the lucky ones, I guess.  For most of us, overcoming society's hangups is a life-long process. The first thing you need after coming out is a good gay-friendly therapist.

Boomer:  No, the first thing you need is a friend.

Fred: So you're up for Greek, then?

Boomer:  Ask me tomorrow.

Nearly 40 years have passed since that night, but I still hear quite often that gay people experience "guilt and shame."  I didn't understand then, and I still don't understand.  When you realize that "it is not raining upstairs," that women are not an inevitable part of your future, that desire for men can and does exist, what is there to feel but an immense joy?