thirty-seven.

gay-chronicles


37.


I SAW A MAN’S PENIS in my high school theater dressing room. It seemed to be averagely sized and an interesting shade of pink. It was also attached to a classmate I had never thought I’d see waist down.

His head was down, his blonde bangs hanging in his face. He was putting his boxers on, the faded fabric similar to that of every man’s Sunday Shorts–the pair you wear on laundry day. It’s that or commando. (Which you never do at school in case things get awkward, like ripping your pants and hoping to die rather than admit it actually happened.

So, I wondered why his checkered boxers were off in the first place, and of course I didn’t ask questions, but I was stunned by his … little piglet? See, I entered right as his shorts met his waist, so I missed how his pale, sunshine-less ass peeked out of the elastic, but then the unexpected happened.

His dick managed to slither and push its way out of the pee-hole.

I like to think I played it off really cool, but something tells me that he knows I was staring. At him. At IT. I was definitely staring. He pushed himself back in containment and smirked at me, his face slightly red.

I’d like to say that at this moment of the story I convinced him to show me more!–but my high school experience is rather suckish compared to that of any other horny teenager’s stories I’ve heard.

I told my best friend immediately after the “incident.” She knew him from middle school, so the gossip was extra juicy to her.

“And you’re sure it was pink?!”

“Absolutely.”


To my knowledge, many things happened in this dressing room with or without my presence–some things much more dramatic and shocking than that of the penis/piglet-story.

Once, in the same room,  I walked in on two boys making out. That was a wake up call that I wasn’t getting any action, and honestly, porn made it seem so much better.

This was also the same dressing room I came out to one of my best friends. Ironically it happened right after the PG 13 scene above. My friend was supposedly spectating and watching them–I think as some proof that the really did like each other or something. As the dramatic ass gay men, they turned it into a show fit with audience of one: her, who of course etched them on. Who doesn’t like to see scandalous things!? I walked in shortly after to find this gay-fiasco knowing exactly what was going on.

See, I knew what was going on because I was OBSESSED with one of the boys. I spent 3 years freaking out over his Justin Bieber-cut, pretty blue eyes and a solid B-list dancing skills. I walked in that room because I was jealous of what I knew would be happening.

Oh, high school … I don’t miss it.

(Perhaps I have an issue walking into things. I should really learn to knock.)

Also, if rumor truly has it: someone had to meet with the principal for doing-the-nasty during rehearsal. In that same dressing room. (This damn room has seen more action than I at this point.)

They were only the background extras for the show. I guess they felt their special talent would best be used behind the scenes.


I would never say high school was the best time of my life, but if I were still there, I’d believe it. I’d believe that h.s. was exactly how things should be, that I was cool enough for people to respect, that I had paid my nerdy dues and had graduated from Freshman Status to anything but Freshman Status.

My point is, I know that I’m not the same man I used to be, because who I used to be was a sadly proud gay boi who saw a pink penis in the dressing room.

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