I was just sitting there, on my knees, on his bed, naked. "What the hell do I do now?" In my past sexual experiences, after sex usually means sleep, cuddling, small talk, etc. But I was on my lunch hour, I'd been here for 40 minutes, it took my 25 minutes to get here, and will take at least that to get back. I had to go!
I was still high, grinning ear to ear. He was up and cleaning himself. But how do I thank him for a good time, and run? I know this was an anonymous hookup. Getting out of there could be as awkward and frightening as walking in.
I got off the bed and started to get dressed. He followed suit. I was hot, it felt a good 10 to 20 degrees warmer in his bedroom than when I walked in, and I was sweaty. I knew I had 25 minutes, though, in an air-conditioned car to cool off.
I was dressed, and sat down on his bed to put my shoes on. He sat down next to me and started talking about Friends With Benefits. Would I do this again? Hell yeah I would! I finished putting on my shoes, and started making my way to the door. He told me when he was free next, and I told him I'd be in touch.
I exited the way I came in, we said our goodbyes, and I walked around his house to my car. I was somewhat aware that anyone of his neighbors could have witnessed this mid-day rendezvous, but I didn't care. I got in my car and drove away.
As you can imagine, my mind started racing as I came down off my high. First thought was, "Holy shit, did that actually just happen?" Then it was, "YES! I finally did it! I finally FUCKING DID IT!", hence my post announcing it to the world. I had a lot of time to think about what this experience would be like, around 20 years worth. For a good chunk of that time, I also thought about what this experience might mean to me. I had imagined all the possible physical and emotional outcomes, and felt prepared for anything. Whether it was going to be a wash of guilt, or the realization that I really was just gay, or realizing that I had no need to ever do that again. I knew that there was a chance that the experience would convince me to get a divorce and lead a different life, or that there was a chance I'd get caught and be forced into a different life.
The biggest thing that struck me, as I was driving back to work after my first sexual encounter with a man, was that I didn't feel any different. I was shocked of course, that I finally overcame my fears, and that "by crossing the line" I was beyond the point of no return. No matter what happened, I owned this and there was no undoing it. But I didn't feel any different.
Not that I was gonna go through all these possible emotions in the first few minutes after this experience. Having written about this over a few days has given me time to be retrospective. I still don't feel any different. I feel a lot of things, some to a higher degree than before, some to a lessor. I now know that I can overcome my fear, or my social awkwardness. I at least will not regret allowing that little quirk from keeping my from what I want. I woke up on Friday morning, feeling more like a man, oddly enough. Yeah, a man who cheated as well, but I knew it wasn't gonna be all good.
I don't want to glaze over the guilt, or the cheating. When I am ready to deal with that, I mean, when I am ready share that, it will require a post of it's own. I will just say this. The guilt didn't start with this experience. I started down this road a long time ago.