The Storyteller, an anonymous late-twentysomething from the midwest, seems to have it all: beauty, charm, and limitless potential. But no matter what you look like (or how people perceive you), desire plays a major role in how you see and experience the world. And when you are attracted to the same sex, things can get even more complicated.

I grew up in an upper middle class black neighborhood, so beauty to me is of black men. That’s what I knew first. And when I was very, very young, I was molested. So that was the early example of me being stripped of my manhood without me knowing it. I went through life thinking it was just a moment, but that little boy who had been hurt was a part of me for so many years.

I lost my virginity when I was 14/15 with a girl. I told my dad the night it happened, and he was really excited about it like it was a good thing. I thought I was cool because of it, and I told everyone but it hurt her feelings. I didn’t know she wouldn’t be proud of it.

I grew up in an upper middle class black neighborhood, so beauty to me is black men.

I actually had two different sexual experience with guys during my senior year of high school. The first guy was near a house party. All my windows were fogged up… and most people thought I was fucking some girl, but I wasn’t. I was so clumsy I left the condom wrapper on my shirt. My parents found the wrapper and then we had to have the talk because they were concerned.

The experience with the other guy was quite different because he was extremely homophobic. While sleeping overnight at an out-of-town event for our high school, he and I shared the same bed, and we had a moment under the covers. After it happened, we never talked about it except via text. At another point in time, we agreed I would drive an hour and a half away to his place. That’s when I lost my virginity to him (as a bottom). Neither of us knew what we were doing—it was bad and painful.

After that, he texted me and said he never wanted to talk to me. He called me gay, and for some reason, hearing that from him really hurt. I felt horrible and might have even cried. But I was pissed more than anything. I was in so much pain, and I felt heartbroken that I gave myself to him yet he threw me away. Eventually, he apologized and asked me to come over again. So, I rushed over. We did it again, and he asked me to lose his number and that he couldn’t believe he’d done this “gay shit” again.

I felt horrible and might have even cried. But I was pissed…and I felt heartbroken that I gave myself to him yet he threw me away.

When I think about my relationship to sex, I realize I did not do it for a while because my first introduction to sex was uninvited as a child. But when I did do it, I was hypersexual and tried to fuck everything. When I went to NYC, that changed—I was kind of a prude, and I even judged people for their own sexual acts, even though I really wanted to do everything they did. And then I went on this crazy sex-capade because I was just trying to figure it all out.

I struggled with whether I was a top or a bottom, and how other members in the gay community saw me as. Gay sex is different because there are specific roles that you are expected to play, and that determines who you date and how people see you. Eventually, as I learned more about myself, I realized I just wasn’t able to do casual sex where you’re not able to call the person the next day. I wanted something more meaningful, deeper. Now, offering myself is a big deal to me. It’s something I consider as one of the grandest gifts I could give someone.