PART IV - "If Life is a Bowl of Cherries, Why Am I in the Pits?"

     Sometimes it was depressing to watch everyone else fall in love, flirt, celebrate with romantic dates, walk hand-in-hand, vent stress with sex, and have adventures in groups.  Each Friday and Saturday night was full of things that I couldn’t be a part of.  I heard the giggly panting of couples in the dormitory hallways, as they breathlessly struggled to unlock doors.  It seemed like I was the only virgin in my dorm of 84 freshmen.  

     Several times, I visited the smelly fraternity houses.

They were full of grunge, ripped furniture, dirty bathrooms, basement bars, puking pupils, obnoxious frat hazing stunts, and alcohol poisonings.  

At their parties, I watched couples grope, grind, and kiss.

     Sorority and frat houses were treated as brothels (for heterosexuals).  Debauchery and treating women as conquests was "normal".

     At my dorm, guys occasionally watched "straight" porn together.  Finally getting invited to one session (the video featured girls & guys in a barn having a foursome) let me meet a "playmate".  I sat with three boys and one girl, and they cheered during the video and compared it to their own experiences.  After the video, the girl invited one guy to her room for a blowjob.  The other guy returned to his own room to "practice his wrist exercises".  The remaining guy was equally horny and said, "I wish I had someone to suck me off now."  Trying to be as casual as possible, I offered to do it.  He replied, "Sure."

     My years of waiting were over!  I got so excited that my leg had tremors!  Feeling brazen, my mouth literally offered a solution.  It was my first time, but I was "a natural".  I impressed him.  It ended faster than I anticipated, and I unexpectedly swallowed.  The boy was ecstatic!  Until then, nobody had let him ejaculate in their mouth, so he was thrilled with me.  (In truth, I didn't want to swallow his jizz again, so the next time, I pretended that I wanted to see his cumshot).  Furthermore, he liked how I seemed "normal" and not gaily flouncy like Angel.  Therefore, he could spend time alone with me in his room without causing suspicion from his buddies.

     He only sought me when he was drunk, desperately horny, and lacked a girl as a sexual outlet.  

     My oral skills and handiwork were used in his discreet hiding spots.  The guy preferred those methods, because they took less time… and I made less noise.  He never had sex with me.  He did not reciprocate orally.  Therefore, my penis and derrière weren't appreciated.  He expected me to get satisfied by stroking myself while sucking him, or merely watching him orgasm due to my talents.  A handful of times, he gave me a handjob.  But he did not "edge" me, as I did for him (which gave him momentous climaxes—and gave me two facials because he excitedly shot further than we expected).  I accepted what I got because it had been six years since a guy touched my groin like that, and it was a relief to have my yearnings satisfied.  However, he never wanted to kiss me, caress me, indulge in foreplay, get to know what turned me on, or spoon/cuddle afterwards.  He didn't even want to be seen with me.  Our togetherness was a secret.  His attitude was "Hurry up and get interested in me, then hurry up and get out before somebody sees us."  When sober, he returned to his normal heterosexual routine.

 

     Previous lectures from my pessimistic parents echoed in my mind: "A meager amount of something is better than nothing".  However, I knew that the world was full of abundance, and I wanted to find better things. 

     Girls openly lured me.  Those were the instances when the Universe gave me fe-males who took their tops off in front of me, felt me up, tried to stroke me inside my jeans, leaned in to kiss me, and grabbed my ass or crotch.  They invited me over for movies, to make out with me and undress me.  They cornered me at parties, "cupped" me, and put my hands on their dancing chests.  I wish guys did that!  

     A week before the end of freshman year, I was approached by a boy in my dorm, named Josh.  Josh told me that he was gay.  I said the same.  He admitted that he misjudged me.  Seeing me develop during the year, he thought I was likable and cool.  As the topic turned to sex, he told me how much wild sex he learned from Angel, our RA!  

How convenient for them... but torturous for my envious mind to hear!  Full-blown reciprocating homosexuality blossomed in my dorm.  (Thanks for the late update!)  Josh's "look" was apparently Angel’s "type", and Josh learned many positions and joy-lengthening techniques from him.  Josh wished that he had gotten to know me sooner, because he realized I would've been so much fun.  (Years later, Angel contacted me via Facebook, perhaps thinking the same thing.  He also admired my list of "Facebook Friends").  

     The next time Josh flirted with me, he drove me to his picturesque home.  His family lived in a farmhouse... but they were gone when we arrived.  Hand-in-hand, he guided me for a stroll around their pond (it resembled something like this).

In such beauteous surroundings, I anticipated some frolicking like this...

Halfway around the pond, his parents came home.  Josh was not "out of the closet" to them, and he was terrified at the possibility that they saw us holding hands.  Instead of staying concealed in the trees, his bedroom, or his car for privacy (kissing/fun), he wanted to avoid his parents by leaving.  Feeling jittery—and without getting out the car—he deposited me at our dorm and returned to his home.  

     No, his parents did not deduce that he was gay.  

     We savored our remaining days together, before the semester ended.  He and I never had sex, yet he described how he enjoyed sex with boys on campus.  His "key to success" was seducing hetereo-curious guys with weed (illegal marijuana) and alcohol in the privacy of his room (his roommate often screwed a girl in her room).  Most of Josh's "playmates" were gay art students, like him.  Since I didn't desire a body piercing, he said that I must tint my hair or buy slutty clothes to have a chance with those boys.  

(Such outward "gay necessities" were unchanged from gay icons 10 years earlier)...

     If I didn't discriminate against the way they dressed or wore eyeliner, they shouldn't penalize me if I wore preppy clothes (accumulated during years of my high school's dress code).  Other gay guys might've had fun coaxing a straight-laced guy like me... but not them. 

     Josh "cruised" the labyrinthine Fine Arts School—usually at night when the level of staff was minimal.  It looked like this, and it was named Harder Hall... which was naughtily funny since Josh's hardons were harder when he was there!  

He asked to be f*cked "harder" in its empty/unlit lecture halls.  He "blew" some boys in the photography Dark Room.  

     School ended the next week, and my parents came to pick me up.  One week was better than nothing, I suppose.  Josh didn’t return to Alfred, the next year.  Damn.

     During that freshman year, I had a "secret crush" on a boy who had a room down the hall.  His name was Paul.  He was also from Long Island, and we became friends during Orientation.  However, our conversations were very "straight".  He invited me to join his roleplaying Dungeons & Dragons game.  To be nearer to him, I did.  Next, he invited me to play an urban-planning video game, SimCity, on his computer.  

     During Thanksgiving break, Paul's mother gave me a ride home, and the three of us sang to the music on the radio and got along great.  To reciprocate, I invited Paul to my home and introduced him (as a platonic friend) to my parents.  I cooked the dinner, and he seemed effervescent with giddiness.  Back at college, we did homework together and sat at the same table at mealtimes in the dining hall.  Alas, he never hinted at being gay or liking boys.  He assumed that I had "experience" with girls.  He often asked me about them, and I made up fictitious answers.  It was a silly thing to do, but we both did it.  

     One day, Paul came to my dorm room, sat down next to me on my bed, hesitated, and then told me “he loved me".  Not “found me cute” or “wanted a date” or "wanted to fool around"... but “loved me”.  He wasn't flirty.  He didn't put a hand on my mine or try to be coy.  He just blurted it out.  He said those "three magic words" before he ever tried to kiss me, caress me, or snuggle with me.  I was so overwhelmed that I began universalized evasions for his declaration.  

     He became embarrassed and tried to take back what he said and laugh it off.  At that point, I really didn't have a clue what to do.  I told him that I liked him very much, and that he was so brave.  I was flattered that he chose me as the first person to “come out" to—even before his mother!  I helpfully coached him on how to breach the topic with his mom (which I still failed to do with mine, for fear of my abusive father).  

     I didn't know what to do about Paul's bombshell-statement, and I had no one to turn to for advice.  I didn't have any friends at college yet, and I didn't have any friends from high school to communicate with.  Spectrum was so invisible on campus that I didn't know it existed yet.  Nonetheless, I continued to socialize with Paul—eating at the same table in the dining hall and playing those games.  But he never breached the topic again or tried to be sexy or flirtatious; it was as if a switch was flicked on and then off.  I couldn't understand how someone could love me but then pretend it never happened?  As I built up the courage to open myself to Paul, he began to wane in his interest in me.  I judged his distance as disinterest.  I suppose if I (we) acted differently, he might’ve been more to me.  LIFE LESSON in hindsight.

     There was one time that I came back from class to find my roommate having sex with a random girl from downstairs!

They barely noticed that I entered and quickly left.  I knocked on Paul’s door to spend the night.  Paul agreed, and I was delighted that his roommate was gone for the night (with his own girl).  

     I asked if we could watch a movie together: anything he wanted.  Instead of him choosing a romantic movie or pornography, he selected a military film where the main character died tragically.  When it was over, Paul suggested going to bed.  I stripped in front of him, but he merely went to the bathroom to brush his teeth.  I joined him but got back before him, so I cutely got into his bed and waited for him.  Without the reaction I craved, he flatly offered me a place to sleep on the floor.  Sadly—even though I looked deep into Paul's eyes and wanted to be close to him—he merely fetched a spare pillow and blanket for me.  Short of me grabbing him for a kiss, I made my best flirtations, but to no avail.  Paul didn't do any flirting in my direction either... which puzzled me.  Maybe Fate put two boys together who were both afraid to make the first move.  

     After the lights were out, I pretended to jerk off by making rustling noises with the sheets, and I moaned softly.  I hoped it would entice Paul to see what I was doing and join me... or something more.  Nothing happened; maybe he was asleep.  That night, two gay young men—with some chemistry—actually shared a college room without anything happening.  

     A sad moment occurred during that year's Christmas break, on the night before one of my famous Christmas Soirées (which 12 “otherwise estranged” relatives suddenly lined up for).  I was polishing my grandmother’s sterling silver Grand Baroque flatware, a punch bowl (seen below), and some candelabra.  

     Paul suddenly rang my doorbell (that I installed), and I answered, wearing rubber gloves and an apron!  Ha ha, how "Frasier" of me!  (the TV show began 2 years earlier).  

Paul had spontaneously driven to my house to invite me to the movies.  He took a long time studying how I was spending my spare time (to make my relatives' lives more merry).

     I explained that I was busy, but I really hoped for another night!  I expressed willingness to any other night that he wanted.  He said “Sure” but was never interested again.  (It wasn't a simple thing for me to drive to his home, because my parents didn't let me borrow their cars, unless it was for me to drive to my waiter job).  I regret that I didn't drop everything and go with him, that day.  Also, he could've chose to stay and help me (it could've become cutely fun), but he wanted to leave.
     However, I discovered where Paul worked, and I visited him (en route to my own job, and thus able to use my dad's car).  It was a surprise like he gave me.  However, he sternly told me that I should never do that again... which perplexed me.  
     A mutual friend from college invited both of us to her home for a house-party, and I went immediately after my job.  I tried to be near Paul, but he acted "straight".  Many kids got drunk and slept over.  As the party wound down, I sought him out, but Paul had fallen asleep against our female friend.  I drove home without accomplishing anything.  
     During midterms of the second semester, Paul announced that he was changing schools, next year… and that he lost his virginity to Josh.  Apparently, during a movie night in someone’s room, Josh began touching him, and they soon returned to Josh’s room.  Paul gossiped how virile Josh was in bed during the year.  How warm their "afterglow" cuddling was.  The kisses!  The sensual body contact.  I was jealous and envious.

     I didn’t understand why Paul—who “loved” me—NEVER returned to proposition me, after that ONE time?  Guys do it in the movies: they pursue repeatedly, seduce, flirt, and keep whittling away at their target.  Why did I get stuck with his emotional bombshell, but he felt at ease to screw around with Josh (who taught him what he learned from Angel)?  I let this anger prevent me from pursuing Paul further.  The only three gay men I knew that year let me know that I had been excluded from all of the fun.  
     [Note: in June 2016, Paul wrote online that he never forgot the boy whom he first loved, and he was still searching for a soulmate].

     As a sophomore, I shared a student "suite" on campus with 5 guys.  It was amongst the Pine Hill Suites, which was an uphill trek from the academic buildings.  Each suite contained 3 bedrooms, a shared bathroom, kitchen area, and living room.  Ours was on the ground-floor.

     I presumed that living with five other guys would increase my chances of boyish fun...

...but I was mistaken.  Regardless, I thought that we got along very well.  Together, we took an international trip to Canada (part of the Commonwealth of Nations).  We drove to view Niagara Falls: three huge waterfalls at the joining-part of Lake Erie and Lake Ontario (two of the five Great Lakes of North America).  That national landmark was breathtaking.

     On another excursion, some of us drove to the Finger Lakes region to sample its wineries.  That was fun.

     After having dinner in another county, they spontaneously decided to visit a Strip Bar to watch topless pole-dancing women.  I pretended to be interested.  

My suite-mates were excited to get lap-dances and put their faces between the strippers' breasts.

But I was not authentically excited.  Weeks later, whenever they reminisced about how much "fun" we had, I falsely agreed.  

     However, at the year's end, they had a meeting and elected one guy to talk with me.  Apparently, my roommate was uncomfortable being around me because he deduced that I might be gay.  He had found my stash of male pictures, torn from magazines and calendars.  (Being openminded, I had a variety of pictures, like these...)

     I admitted it.  Together, they voted against me living with them again, in the upcoming year.  I didn’t understand: I never brought boys over, didn’t use their laptops for gay porn (I didn’t own a computer during college), nor did I behave flamboyantly.  In fact, I sacrificed having my own lifestyle, so I would be accepted and succeed!  The guys I lived with did things like puke in the bathroom (leaving vomit on the toilet)...

...leave dirty dishes in the kitchen sink unwashed for days, and one guy was seen rinsing an inflatable sheep "sex toy" after “using it”!  

During that year, I never complained or teased my flabby roommate that I could feel our bunk-beds jiggle and shake whenever he masturbated!  

Speaking of which, I endured the sticky remains after any of them jerked off in our shared shower...

(five guys make a lot of semen)... or after the skateboarder screwed his girlfriend in our shower and left their mixed hairs and fluids stuck on the drain!  (Nobody cleaned up after themselves.  They chided each other about it, but they didn't stop leaving messes).  Apparently, all of THEIR behavior was okay, but mine was not.
     Throughout the year, I cooked for them, did my share of chores and grocery shopping (and did some extra cleaning to compensate for their messiness), and seemingly got along okay with them.  I was emotionally hurt.  Clearly, my sexuality was a contentious issue.  The gay kids said I had to be "more gay" to be accepted, yet my straight roommates thought I was "too gay" to be accepted.  I sat in my room with music on, and the song “You’ll Never Walk Alone” by Judy Garland suddenly played, and I cried.  

     Many people have cohesiveness and adventures with their college roommates.  During my four years, I never did.  Each year, each guy that I shared a room with was uninterested in having camaraderie with me.  They were either reclusive or always preoccupied.

     The next year, I got accepted into a Junior Suite with 5 different fellows.  No, I wasn't lucky to have any gay roomies.       My own roommate, Kevin, was a ceramic engineering student who spent most of his time in libraries and labs.  He was rarely home, so I lacked normal interaction with him.  The other four guys were a mix of college-majors.  I acted cautiously “straight” with them.  I paid no interest as their V-shaped torsos left the shower...

or returned from the gym… 

I ignored their "morning wood" when they woke up.  

If I walked in on a guy jerking off, I pretended not to see.  

    No, none of them invited me to join or watch porn with them.  If they had—even merely as "stroking buddies"—I would've.  But those guys were slightly conservative and never watched porn together, nor did they manhandle each other.  (Oddly, during the rest of my time at college, nobody invited me to watch porn.  That's just how my friendships/acquaintances were).  Despite what we see on American TV sitcoms, half of all American guys do masturbate with friends.  I repeatedly encountered the half that didn't.

     Two of them had girlfriends, and I ignored the "sounds of screwing" from both of their bedrooms.  

     When they discussed intimacy, I fabricated stories about my Music Class partner: Hannah.  They catcalled me when they saw my picture in the student newspaper alongside my co-President of the American Marketing Association (who probably did like me).  In truth, with the exception of a couple of weeks, I went through two years at college without having sex.  But to admit that would've caused me to be ostracized.  

     Instead of boys, I experienced plenty of girls trying to entice me.  A girl named Karen took me to a square-dancing lesson; it was a hoot.  

     Another girl named Karen asked me to attend a Christmas dinner at her sorority, which I did (seen below).  

     When I declined her advances, she began sleeping with—and dating—my roommate, Kevin (who occupied our bottom bunkbed).

     Several times, a girl named Bethany baked cookies for me or invited me to Game Nights in her suite (seen here).

     Betsy and Anna invited me to Winter Semi-Formals (that I orchestrated for the university's Office of Residence Life: I raised funds to hire five men from the village who had a jazz quintet.  For the next one, I charmed AU's Jazz Band to play, and they drew a lively crowd and cost nothing).  No gay boys attended, so I danced with girls and had fun.

Seen below, both girls were wowed that I owned my own tuxedo and shirt studs.  

     I accepted Christina's invitation to attend a Trustee Dinner as her "+1" because of my great conversation skills and manners.  During the next Trustee Dinner, Natalie snagged me as her companion.  Michelle enjoyed my companionship for Murder Mystery Dinner on campus.  That was cleverly fun, yet no gay boys participated.

     In my Environmental Studies class, Krista insistently wanted to be my work-partner.  Seen below, I was also the most popular guy in my Women's Studies class, due to my progressive viewpoints. 

     Without desiring it, I did have sex with one woman.  Jen was a student who had a "crush" on me.  Mutual friends planned it as a surprise for me... along with a lot of alcohol and sudden privacy in my suite.  They thought that "Ken and Jen" sounded cute.  As a 21-year-old virgin, I was outclassed by her four years of sexual experiences.  She did everything, and she brought a condom.  

She was happy, but I wasn't interested in doing it again.  

     Instead, I encountered a blonde worker at the dining hall (it was one of his two jobs).  He attended SUNY Alfred State College, which was across the Canacadea Creek, on the other side of the valley.  (The village sat between both campuses).  

     Some university students were snooty and "looked down" at state college students because their tuition was more affordable.  Since I'm not a snob, I chatted with him... which became flirtatious... and resulted in a few invitations.  We only met at his dorm room, or we cozied together in a secluded spot that he knew of.  In the picture below, he attended a student award party with me, and he strategically got me drunk for our fun afterwards.  

     Since gay men have anal sex (he did the penetration), I technically lost that part of my virginity to a guy.  He was ecstatic about "popping my cherry"!  (My treat was overcoming the initial discomfort to fit his very sizable erection in me).  During it, his face and panting were beautiful.  He raved about my "tight butt".  (Years later, as my sex life included men from all around the world, I was repeatedly complimented about that).  

     He and I did not consider ourselves boyfriends, yet we shared great chemistry together.  Conversations were easy, he was low-key, and he didn't uphold a pretense of being swishy to identify as being gay.  It was wonderful.  Whenever I felt lonely, I looked across the valley at his campus and knew that one man intimately liked me for who I was.  

Sadly, since Alfred State was a two-year college, our dalliance ended before I graduated.  

     At the end of my junior year, my parents drove upstate to retrieve me.  They usually expected to supervise me until we drove home, but my friend, Sarah, invited me to be her date at an award dinner.  My parents met her briefly; they were displeased.  During our 7-hour drive home, they berated me for interacting with her; being bigots, they disliked her because she was Jewish.  Nonetheless, I remained platonic friends with Sarah.  

     I expected a happier scenario for my senior year.  I entered a housing lottery to live in one of the Senior Apartments (located behind the dorm where I had been a freshman).  I daydreamed of a compatible and cute roomie for my final year.  

     No.  Due to Fate, my roommate was another engineer, who was nerdy, awkwardly quiet, and preoccupied.  Craig spent most of his time at labs and study-groups.  During one of our school breaks, I invited him to my home for a fun-filled weekend.  

He made me escort him to the top of the Empire State Building.  It required nearly two hours of waiting without air-conditioning, and cost $42 each, but the view is not worth it: urban sprawl.

Craig seemed to have fun, but it didn't spur him to befriend me any further.  Maybe he was a loner.

     Also, during my four years, I paid for my own train or plane trips home for Thanksgiving and Christmas breaks.  My parents did not help me, nor did they greet me at our local airport, so I paid for a taxi to get to my home.  The university provided a free shuttle to Rochester's train station and its airport, which abuts the famous Erie Canal.  (The City of Rochester is named for the historic one in England, which was a favorite of Charles Dickens).  It was a very nice airport, and I was always excited to get aboard a flight.

I heard tales from friends about meeting interesting people during their train rides and flights... but I did not meet anyone.  

     I continued actively in all of those aforementioned student organizations.  I solicited the dean and got the AMA an office (for the first time in its history within the Business College).  I coordinated with SIFE to give educational presentations at local high schools.  For that, I registered vans from the University Car Pool.  Seen below, I dressed as a "pit-boss" and operated a roulette table at the Student Activity Board's "Casino Night".  

I awoke at 5am to help set up for the Hot Dog Day parade on Main Street.  

     While giving me another leadership award, the Dean of Students said, "This young man, who is active on campus, whose personality is such that he gets along with all kinds of people, and who does a superb job with his studies, has a most decided edge over the strictly academic or athletic student who merely passes through these halls."  

     That year, a friend named David sent "mixed signals": he had Leo DiCaprio posters all over his wall, and he bleached his hair to match his gold earring.  His older brother was openly gay but was estranged from the family because of it.  (I finally met him briefly during David's graduation, the year after my own).  Below, Dave is in my dining room, as I cooked breakfast for friends during Memorial Day Weekend.  (You can tell that a gay guy like me set the table!)  I thought he might be bi-curious, so I made advances.  How could I not have tried, considering the way he seemed to look at me...

     David only lived two hours away from me, so he spent many nights at my house during school breaks.  He never invited me to his home, presumably due to his cranky parents.  Regardless, I was happy to host him.  Despite its size, my home and yards made him feel like he was at a spa.  I stocked the fridge with great food, we watched movies, I shook superb cocktails, I shared my delightful shower accoutrement, and I encouraged him to walk around shirtless from the shower until after our breakfast (that I cooked).  Seen below, he loved the two-person canopied hammock that I bought.

     He also joined me at family dinners (that I arranged for otherwise-distant relatives).  My food and sauces were always tasty.  Except for my father, everyone loved the background music from my repertoire, which went from cocktail time to dinner, dessert, and ended at twilight as I snuffed the candles.

     However, no matter how much I hinted, or caressed him (when we were both tipsy), or gave neck massages, let my leg rub his, or talked about sex... nothing happened.  Several times, he let me flirt, then asked for more cocktails, and I returned to the room to see him seemingly "passed out".  Each time, that was discouraging to me, and I was afraid to actually kiss him or undo his pants.  Maybe he secretly wanted to be comatose to have deniability?  
     What did happen during one of his visits to my home was me walking in on him passionately kissing my sister, instead!  Internally, I was jealous.  The next night, before he drove home, my sister made another unannounced visit to our home (at that time, she lived with her boyfriend at his aunt's house).  David thanked me for an always-great time.  They left at the same time in their own cars.  I called him 2 hours later to be sure he got home safely, but he didn't answer.  It didn’t prove they had sex, but my sister didn’t answer her mobile phone either.  He returned my call 2 hours after that, while still driving home.  It was the last time that I pursued him.

     A letter from a family-friend, "Aunt" Marie, cheered me: "I’m so happy to read the letters of your escapades, knowing that you are treasuring your time at college.  Your writing is so "you".  I pour a hot cup of coffee, get comfy on the sofa and relax reading them.  To be able to impart information, such as appearance, texture, and mood, is just wonderful to read.  I feel as if I’m there at Alfred, walking across the lawn with you.  You do so well at everything.  Indeed, with your natural talent for event-planning and being a host, having you ever thought of going into politics or ambassadorship?  For such a gifted young man, I also wish amore.  Well my dear boy, I am proud for all you've gone through and how you keep smiling and how very elegant you are.  No one can take away the beautiful light you give.  Don't give anyone the power to make you feel dimmer.  I love you and send all God’s blessings, and always know that good is all yours already; just accept it. - Love from Tante Marie."

    I was readily willing to accept the good AND amore... whenever it arrived.