Since I am leaving Boston after six incredible years and that I just turned 25, I feel like I need to reflect on my life in Boston and up to Boston. By “up to Boston,” I mean what and why made me choose Boston and and since that answer comes from me being fifteen years old, the title of this whole series (basically my adult life to date) is called the Parking Lot Stories….
The Parking Lot. Chapter One. The First Time.
Before the days of everyone having a cell phone, broadband Internet, streaming porn, Manhunt and Gay.com, there was AOL. America on Line on 14K dialup mind you. This was before there was any other ability to get anywhere else on the Internet if you lived in the middle of nowhere. We will call middle of nowhere Bristol, Rhode Island. I know that most of you don’t need the little history lesson of 10 years ago but AOL was incredibly important in facilitating my movement from childhood into adulthood, or what I will call it since being 15 is hardly an adult. Sometimes I wonder if 25 means that I am an adult, but anyways my movement from childhood into adulthood comes from one cataclysmic moment. And this moment only happened because of sitting on my little Dell computer with its floppy disks and old school massiveness after school. I would run home after early high school to get online, as I would have nearly 2 extra hours alone until my younger sister came home from middle school. These two hours were spent connecting my beige dinosaur of a Dell to the phone jack and dialing up, many times unsuccessfully, but sometimes successfully to “You’ve Got Mail.” I was the only one in my family who knew how to use the Internet so it was pretty much a free reign until my sister figured it out. My first Internet screen name was Pegasus81 and AOL was my key to the rest of the world. As I think it was for most people at the time. So at 15 I would sit online and chat. And chat. And chat. And masturbate until I was sore. Sometimes it was with friends from school but most of the time it was with total strangers in chat rooms. Gay chat rooms. For a while, it was a method of jacking off, as it still is, but the day came when I accepted someone’s offer to meet up. I remember little of the specific details like how it came about, or his name, where he was from, whether he was in school or not, etc. What I do remember is still burned into my memory since this was the first time I had “sex” and it was with a boy.
Next to my house was a small little shopping area with a bakery, pharmacy, pizza joint, random stores, and a bank. The area behind the shopping center was pretty abandoned as it just housed the dumpsters, extra parking, and random other shit which never got anyone’s attention. It was the perfect place to meet someone when I didn’t have a car. I was 15 remember. I don’t even think I had started drivers-ed yet so walking there took about 5 minutes and involved hopping a fence or later on crawling through a broken space. I then sat and waited on the curb for his car to approach. It did and I sheepishly went up to it. He turned out to be early to mid twenties, blond, and surfer jockish and it was cool to go back to my house. Giving him or any other boy my home address online was a total “no no” since then he had my address. If I met him in the parking lot, I could direct him to my house and he wouldn’t have my home address. It seemed safer at the time. Less of a risk of me getting caught from him returning and ringing the bell, I guess. I honestly have no idea what I was truly thinking. He was from somewhere near Providence, twenty minutes away from Bristol, which is where I grew up. So I make him park on the street, not in the driveway in case someone came home early and I had to push him out a window or something, lol. We went up stairs and he basically took the aggressive lead as he sat on the bottom edge of the bed and sat me down next to him.
(What follows is sexual activity and extremely personal. You are warned).