Remember that young cousin I mentioned before? The one I mentor from time to time? We were out in the city, enjoying what was a cold and windy but also sunny day. Alone at a cafe in the middle of the afternoon, he told me he wanted to tell me something.
"What is it?" I asked. "You look worried."
"It's just... I mean, I know you won't be mad or anything..."
"Trust me -- whatever it is you did, I've done worse."
Still, he remained silent and avoided eye contact -- with me, that is. However, he did appear to be looking at someone in particular. The man in question was slightly younger than I am, and also quite good-looking. It was then that I knew what my cousin wanted to tell me.
"You're gay," I said. Blurted it out, in fact.
My cousin's face went red. Cripes, this is what he was so worried about? There I was, thinking he'd ran someone over and hidden the body, or hired someone to take his SATs and was in danger of being caught. Or perhaps there was someone threatening to pull a Columbine at his high school. My imagination has no bounds in terms of imagining worst-case scenarios.
"Is it that obvious?" my cousin asked.
"What? Oh, no, of course not. You're not flaming or anything." I winced after making that comment. The way Adam tells it, only gay men themselves are allowed to make fun of their more effeminate counterparts.
"Then how did you--?"
"You were pretty non-discrete in checking out that guy," I explained. "That, and I have a pretty keen eye."
"You never suspected anything before, did you?" my cousin said.
"No, not with your never-ending questions about girls."
From that point on, my cousin divulged how he came to discover his sexuality. Essentially, he had sex with a girl and didn't like it. Ditto for eating her pussy. And sucking her tits. Beyond kissing, he really didn't care for girls at all.
I took the time to reassure his belief that he was gay. Err, not so much reassure this belief as support him in his coming-out process. It was fine with me, I said. And don't believe any crap that being gay is either a sin, a crime against humanity, or some sort of deviant act.
"Honestly, if this is the 'worse' thing you ever admit to, consider yourself blessed."
"I'm just a little freaked out about some stuff, that's all. I mean, I went on the internet to try and learn more, and what I saw..."
Eek. I can only imagine what my cousin could have stumbled onto if he had typed in 'gay sex' onto Google and began combing through the results. With Adam's assistance (major kudos to him), I'm in the process of compiling a list of websites that are informative instead of exploitative. Thus far GLAAD and PFLAG have been invaluable.
It wasn't long before he started peppering me with questions, though. Not about having sex with men, but about sex in general -- things like condoms, lubricant, and the topic of anal sex. He'd assumed I'd done it with women, and he was correct.
I waited until we returned to his hotel before getting into the more graphic details. Essentially, I told him, anal sex involves three stages:
- The lubricated loosening. This is when a lubricated finger is inserted into the anus to prep the orifice for entry. It is followed by another finger, then another, until the orifice is loosened enough for the penis.
- The entry. One cannot simply "dive in" after the first stage. The "top" must enter gently, taking time to make sure his penis is able to slip in gently.
- Home free. The "top" must work his way up to a steady rhythm in terms of thrusting. Slow and steady wins the race. Time is of the essence -- meaning both partners must be patient in order to fully reap the rewards.
My cousin seemed satisfied with this explanation. Still, part of me shuddered at the idea of him having anal sex -- be it penetrating or being penetrated. It's just so... I don't know, mature for him. But that wasn't the most sweat-inducing part of our conversation.
"You really know a lot about sex, don't you?" he said to me. "Why is that?"
"Oh, really?" I said, suddenly coy. "Just life experience, I suppose."
"You mean you've been fucking like crazy?"
"I've had my fun, I'll admit that."
"People wonder about you, you know," my cousin said. "All this time without a full-time job, yet you have that nice apartment in Miami."
That last part made my blood run cold. What do you mean, people wonder about me? No way in hell does anyone know about my true profession. No -- I'm a freelance PR executive who also dabbles in graphic design. End of story.
"That's enough for today, I think." My cousin's parents would be arriving back at the hotel soon enough, having caught an afternoon matinee. We (my cousin, his parents, my parents and myself) all had a reservation at the hotel restaurant for dinner.
"Fine," my cousin said. "You want to order a movie?"
"Sure," I said. "Oh, and one last thing..."
"Yeah?"
I'm not going to lie -- part of me thought about telling him about what I do right then and there. Perhaps it was because he'd just revealed such an intimate part of himself to me. I'm a big believer in equality in relationships, whether they're romantic or familial. Fortunately, my senses got the better of me.
"Nothing," I said. "Nothing..."
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