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October 22, 2007

Monday

You are taking a big risk...

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Comments

Closets are pretty comfortable places when you’re sixteen, and you can’t figure out what kind of clothes you want hanging on the racks, or which store to shop for shoes to scatter the floor with. Do I want make-up, hat boxes, and wigs on my closet’s shelf or model-airplanes, BB guns, and one of dad’s old playboys?

The older guys that hang out at the park next to school say “Closets are for clothes.”

My dad says “Fagots burn in Hell.”

I dunno. I guess when staying in my closet is worse than burning in Hell, maybe then, I’ll decide.

Posted by: kipp at October 22, 2007 4:41 PM · Permalink

I had waited for this ever since I was twelve. The amount of times I thought about it per minute was represented by the number of whiteheads that dotted my awkward looking face.

The moment is huge because every recurrence from now on would hang off this, my first time!

She touches and caresses and it is over. I pay her the money and mumble an apology about being premature.

She smiles and reassures me that it gets better.

Trying to rescue my future, I tell myself she is talking about sex and not the sudden itching of my groin.

Posted by: Rick at October 22, 2007 6:07 PM · Permalink