The first lover to rock my world came to me when I was not ready to truly appreciate what I had. That happens to lots of boys I guess. My body wanted physical contact even if my emotions were not developed enough to understand what was happening. She had honey blond features and New York roots and I adored her. We spent our youth getting to know each other and I would make all efforts to steal quite minutes alone. She let me put my hands in places they had not yet been...and it felt good. But eventually her tone changed. I threw the occasional fit and the warmth faded. I told myself she was old news and not as "with it" as the newest candy to catch my eye. Over the years we managed to stay acquainted and even have the rare dalliance but the old magic was not to be found, for we no longer believed in such foolishness. I have not seen her in decades but I heard once that she is surrounded by loving family. Now, as an adult, I miss her dreadfully. I suppose I'm really just missing my own innocence.
Later in my teens came my grand adventure with a black beauty. Oh my, was she a smooth and mellow number. And were the other fellas jealous? My, yes! The subtle line of her upper curves was enough to make me pop one of those little erections boy-puppies get when you scratch their tummies. My only complaint was, frankly, her size. There was just a little too much of her to move around and it made things awkward when the lights were low and time was of the essence. My skinny white fingers groping all over probably weren't appreciated anyway and we only stayed together for a brief time. But when it was good, it was very good, and I still hear some of our favorite songs now and then and wish I could pull up close like those days.
By the mid-80s, new wave was all the rave and the ladies took notice. Suddenly every school had gangs of Cindy Laupers, Pat Benetars, and Madonnas competing for male attention. I got caught up in the craze with my new fascination for parachute pants and the synth-pop of Howard Jones, the Thompson Twins, and Miami Vice. It wasn't long before I hooked up with the first of many Asian delights I found myself attracted to and we were all about the "new" look. I cut off the long hair, dabbed on my Polo cologne, and we hit the under-18 clubs every chance we could. We had a pretty good thing and often heard compliments like, "you are awesome together." It was all good until one day her parents introduced me to their younger and prettier creation. WOW! Suddenly my hot-thing couldn't compete with an even hotter sister. I'm probably going to hell for it, but I pulled off the switch.
We were slick, quick, and light on our feet. She was so petite I could carry her around for hours without tiring. With her in my hands, I learned some moves I never thought possible and even got some of it on VHS video that I still pull out of the closet to watch once in a while. One day when it was just the two of us alone, I got a little too wild and accidentally tossed her across the room and the vibe between us never worked the same. Eventually I couldn't get any response at all. The trust was gone.
I spent the next couple years sinking into the debauchery of nightclubs, cabarets, and private parties for those who wanted to swing. I'm embarrassed to say much about it now but I spent much of this time involved in various three-way relationships. Roles were clearly established and for a while it seemed like a dream come true. If one ever got moody and misbehaved, there was another to step up and get me through the night. Pretty good deal for a while but the maintenance issues were a drag. Keeping everybody humming along and looking good was proving to be pretty expensive. I started to long for the more conventional kind of company: traditional values and a strong self-identity. It took some time but I found what I needed.
This one was all about class: looked just as fine in an uptown restaurant or corner pub, was equally at home with Miles or Bach, and was just the right size. And much to my surprise, I haven't done anything stupid to mess this one up. We've been together for years now and my eyes might wander now and again but I'm not letting this one go.
Now if I can just find the same luck with women.
|My first love in 1967: an Estey piano built in New York|
|My Fender Rhodes black beauty, 1981|
|My first Asian synth, 1985|
|My new hottie in 1985 (the older sister is sulking behind me)|
|A three-way at sunset, 1991|
|My long-term commitment, 2010 and beyond|