What I'll Never Forget from the First Guy I Dated

Photo: Cole Hutson/Unsplash

We never said we were dating. We never had the “talk.” And I would have never, not in a million years, called him my boyfriend. But in hindsight, when I look back across the ten months of fabulous sex, morning cuddles, boozy brunches, flirty texts, hanging out with friends, and dancing at gay clubs, it’s clear that we were in fact dating. Rather seriously, too.

While we openly spoke about other dates we had, neither of us were happy for the other one. We secretly wanted those other dates to fail miserably, although of course, we openly wished each other the best.

Neither of us wanted to admit our true feelings for each other.   

He was the first guy I dated. The first guy I had sex with sober. That… that was huge for me. After nearly five years of hammered hook-ups with guys, it was weird, to say the least, having sex with a guy sober. It made my attraction to men - my sexuality - seem more real. He was also the first guy I ever bottomed for. It was a pretty hilarious situation. One that involved me repeatedly asking, “Am I shitting on you?” and him replying, “No, you’re not!” until eventually, he said, “If you shit on me you shit on me. Stop worrying about it. Shit happens.”

He was the first guy whose arms I cried in other than my father's. This was after we watched The Normal Heart together. I was a wreck for the rest of the evening. He had to kick his friends out, who were watching the movie with us, in order to tend to my needs. He was supportive of me when I came out as bisexual publically. He didn’t pressure me into identifying as gay. He was simply happy that I was happy and was content spending time with me.

We worked on the same floor. Separate departments. I did smoking cessation research while he did HIV research. I would have to borrow a shirt when I slept over at his place to avoid wearing the same clothing to work two days in a row. We would walk into work together, smiling. It was our little secret, with only a few of our close friends knowing the truth.  

I loved him. Of course I did. But it wasn’t classical love in the way you think of one partner loving another. It wasn’t a love that meant we should get married and be together forever. I loved him as a friend. I loved him for his support. I loved him for his smarts and conversation skills. I loved him the way you can only love your first partner as an out person.

I don’t talk him much anymore. There’s no animosity, and we broke up rather amicably. We simply diverged in terms of where we are in life. He is a full-time med student. I’m a full-time freelancer. Our friend group has dispersed, each of us off to different cities for new chapters in our lives.

Nevertheless, he does pop up in my mind from time to time -- always fondly. There are some things that I’ll never forget about him. He caused me to change as a person.

He showed me what my life could be like if I let someone in. He showed me that love can take many forms. He showed me that I don’t have to be 100% sure of who I am in order to date someone, and there’s nothing wrong with that. He showed me that I’m lovable and dateable, despite being selfish and irrational at times. He showed me that I can have sex with a man sober and that it’s pretty damn good.

He showed me I could live a happy life dating a man. Something I never thought was possible.

For that, I’m thankful and will always have a place for him in my heart.