The Guy in the Hotel

In the last semester of my undergraduate career, I wasn’t exactly a social person.  I kept to myself, socializing at a rate of almost never.  I moved into an apartment with three guys I didn’t know.  I needed a place to stay for the semester, and so I just found someplace that was acceptable.  Other than my freshman year, and while I was out of the country, I lived with my brother.  Now that he was married, that didn’t seem like a good idea, even though he had offered.

While I was on study abroad, I was not exactly active in the church.

The first time – didn’t fit the fantasy…

Most of the time when I would be chatting with men online, a common means of arousal was through story telling.  Everyone seemed to be interested in the other person’s first experience with sex.  There always seemed to be a draw to the beginning of ones path into homosexuality, as if it was a rite of initiation.

From the guy who was the willing victim of statutory rape at the hands of his high school football coach, to the one who found a random hookup in a park at night, the majority of the stories I heard were not ones of love, or of commitment.  Neither was mine.