The Age of Innocence

When I was twenty-four, I had quite an interesting fall and winter. I'd spent the last eight months harboring an intense crush on one of my coworkers; he'd protested that he was straight, but -- thankfully -- didn't let my crush on him ruin our friendship. Cody was a sweet, nerdy kid with braces and a speech impediment; when we'd first met, he'd had a girlfriend. They didn't last the remainder of their senior year, though. I heard rumors that she cheated on him often in the parking lot behind H & H Bakery -- just a few blocks away. I spent the summer before he left for the UP to attend Lake Superior State University trying to show him how much I cared about him and was going to be devastated when he left; we fought a lot that summer. At first, he was jealous that I'd become good friends with the new girl at work -- Kristin. He'd accuse me of replacing him with her, which was just insane. Yes, I did like Kristin -- Bambi, as I'd nicknamed her -- but she was my friend; Cody was so much more than that, at least in my eyes. We started to fight more and more; our friendship seemed to turn into a game of who could hurt the other more. At one point, Cody asked me to go to Cedar Point with him -- I'd never been -- but when I hesitated to confirm the date, he shrugged it off and made plans with his other -- straight -- friends. In the end, we left things on a good foot. His last night in town, he came in to see me at work to say his goodbyes. We made tacos, and spent the night laughing; it finally felt like we'd gotten back to being us. When we said goodbye in the parking lot, I clung to him, telling him I loved him as I tried not to cry; he didn't say it back. I was almost brought to tears when he showed up in the lobby at work the weekend of my birthday -- in October; we didn't get to see each other much because he'd brought his friend/roommate and they had more places to go, but the thought that he had not only remembered my birthday, but also that he had cared enough to surprise me meant the world to me. Unfortunately, we saw each other once after that -- when he was home on Christmas break -- before we lost touch. He's now a member of the Navy and engaged; I've seen him a few times when he was home visiting his parents, but it wasn't the same. It was crazy how obsessed with him I was during that period; I thought I'd never find anyone better, that if I just kept showing him that I loved him, he'd choose me.

When Cody left for LSSU, I was heartbroken. It wasn't as bad when I was home, but work -- the place that we had met and where we'd spent most of our time together -- was haunted with memories of him and our good -- and bad -- times together. It felt as though the wound would never close, never heal, because it was constantly being ripped open again. I was a lot more melodramatic and innocent back then. Cody's replacement at work was Courtney, a sweet, insecure girl with a curvy body that I was loathe to admit that I envied. She tried very hard to be my friend in the beginning, but I was so despondent about losing Cody that I did everything to avoid seeing her as anything other than the new girl at work. Over time, though, the wound began to heal, and I started to realize just how much of an asshole I was being to her.

That September -- a month after Cody left -- Courtney was desperately trying to get me to like her; her friend Miguel was home for the weekend from U of M. She devised a plan to get me laid so that I would finally look upon her with something besides disdain. She told Miguel to stop in and visit us at work; I was talking a big game on Grindr -- flirting with him and acting suave and confident -- but when he came into the pizzeria, I panicked and hid in the corner, afraid that once he saw me in person, that he would rethink his interest. After a couple of minutes, he messaged me on Grindr telling me that if I didn't come out and say hello to him, he would complain to my boss that I was rude; I knew that he wouldn't go that far, nor would I actually get in trouble for not flirting with a guy while I was at work, but still, I swallowed my nerves and went out to talk to him.

I quickly learned that Miguel was adopted from South America; his skin was a beautiful peanut butter/caramel color, his dark hair had just the smallest hint of curls. He was tall and thin with chocolate brown eyes -- just my type -- but if I was being honest, his eyes, which were huge and bulgy, were off-putting to me. Even so, I was enjoying having a cute college guy hit on me. When Miguel asked for my number, I practically choked; I'd never had a guy ask me for my number before. With shaky hands, I wrote my number down on a piece of ticket paper and gave it him, hoping he couldn't tell how nervous I was. It wasn't long before he was texting me -- a good sign. He invited me to come over to snuggle and watch a movie with him, but I felt that that was moving too fast; I was still harboring feelings for Cody. I didn't want to fully give up on him yet -- it was a few weeks before my birthday -- and I got the impression that if I did go to Miguel's parents' house, he would want more than cuddles and casual conversation.

On Sunday afternoon, he left to go back to U of M but promised that he'd come back and visit me that upcoming weekend. We texted throughout the week; I had to admit that Miguel knew how to charm a guy. While I wouldn't say that he was making me like him -- not yet -- he was making me laugh and pontificating about what could be if I would open up and give him a chance. After a few days I started to like his attention; I proposed that when he came home that weekend that we hang out -- alone. I knew that I could have him over to my grandma's, but I didn't want it to be weird; she knew that I was gay, but it wasn't something we openly discussed. I wasn't sure how she would feel if I brought a guy over late at night and took him to my room. The walls in that house were paper thin; should anything sexual happen, she'd definitely hear it, especially since her bedroom was just across the hall from mine. There wasn't a place that we could be alone -- where I was comfortable -- until I thought of the video store office.

The lobby at the pizzeria housed a video store. The original owners were a gay couple -- Jim and Paul -- but once they broke up -- after seventeen years of dating -- Paul had completely moved on. Jim stuck around for six months or so and then ended up moving to Kentucky. My boss bought the video store from Jim, which made me happy -- I loved working the video store so much more than being in the kitchen. There was a small office in the back that housed the cases of missing or stolen DVDs; the carpet was thin and shabby, but it had its own door and would offer some privacy. Friday afternoon, I built up the courage to ask my boss if he would mind if Miguel and I were to hang out in the video store office after hours; I assured him that nothing sexual would happen, just that I couldn't have him at my place and I wasn't comfortable going to his parents' house. I was surprised when my boss reluctantly agreed.

That night at closing time, Miguel came into the lobby, grinning. "How was work?" he asked, standing close enough to me that I could smell his bad breath. Anticipating that we'd be kissing and probably more, I'd brought a spare toothbrush and a bottle of mouthwash to refresh my breath; I absolutely hate making out with a guy who has bad breath, it completely ruins the experience for me.

"It sucked," I admitted, locking the front door and turning the lights off. In the darkness, I felt more relaxed, like my every thought and emotion wasn't clearly visible on my face.

"Come here," Miguel said, his voice husky with lust. He leaned in for a kiss, his hand snaking around the small of my back, but I tensed up and stepped back. "What?" he asked, surprised.

"I haven't had a chance to brush my teeth yet." I knew it sounded lame, but fresh breath has always been very important to me.

"I don't care," he growled, leaning in again, "come here."

"No." He rolled his eyes at me as I quickly punched out and then disappeared into the employee bathroom to brush my teeth.

When I came out, I could sense his frustration, but once I told him the plan, he smiled. We carried some blankets in from my car and made a little nest on the floor of the video store office.

"I've never had someone do something like this before," he gushed, smiling.

"Well, don't get too excited," I teased, "it's just some blankets on a hard, concrete floor."

"It's still kind of romantic."

We laid down next to each other before he leaned over and started kissing me. I'd only had my first actual kiss a few weeks prior; I still wasn't comfortable or confident in kissing. To this day, I still don't find kissing overly appealing, but maybe it's because I rarely do it with a guy who actually means something to me.

"You're a great kisser," Miguel panted before he started gnawing on my bottom lip. I thought it was weird, but he looked so cute and excited that I felt bad asking hm why he was doing it.

We made out for a while -- his breath was definitely distracting -- I wanted so badly to be into it like I would have been had it been Cody in there with me. I felt my body responding to his kisses, his touches, but I couldn't get out of my head enough to simply enjoy the moment. Was he a bottom? Was he more experienced than I was? Was I doing it right? Was I embarrassing myself? I hadn't gotten around to telling Miguel that I was still a virgin, but I figured that it was as plain as the nose on my face.

The kissing became more heated the longer we did it. As his hands started to explore my body, he kissed my neck, climbing on top of me. I hid my nervousness by jokingly telling Miguel that he wouldn't be getting laid that night. Immediately, he stopped kissing me and glared down at me. "Why would you even say that?" he demanded, looking frustrated and disappointed. I wanted to tell him that I wasn't looking for just sex, but he was nineteen; love and sex are pretty much synonymous at that age.

After about an hour or so in the office, we decided to call it quits for the night. Miguel had a busy day planned the following day, but he promised that we would keep texting, that he'd be back to see me before I knew it. I suggested that we exchange letters -- something about writing letters has always struck me as deeply romantic -- he shockingly agreed, before kissing me on the sidewalk -- out in the open -- and getting into his car.

I wrote him a letter and received one back; Miguel seemed to really enjoy me, though I couldn't understand why. He was nineteen, studying pre-med at U of M; he was cute and confident, surely he could do so much better than little old me? Despite my insecurities, I found myself started to feel the familiar rush of excitement when I got a text from him; Cody's face started to fade from my brain, replaced by Miguel's.

A week or so later, Miguel told me that he was about to take the first round of mid-terms and that he would need some time to himself to study; I assured him that understood completely. I wished him luck and told him to text me when he could. As he disappeared into his college work, I began to feel loneliness and insecurity creeping in; how would I know that Miguel was thinking about me, that he cared, if we weren't texting constantly? What if he met some boy at college and they bonded? How long could this thing between us possibly last when we had virtually nothing in common?

I got my answers far too soon for my liking; Miguel ghosted me completely. I wrote him another letter but didn't hear back. I texted him a few times, even tried messaging him on Facebook, but I found my heart in my throat when I saw that he had blocked me -- and Courtney -- on Facebook. My feelings were hurt, but it wasn't something that I wasn't familiar with; all of my romantic endeavors thus far had been met with disdain and disappointment.

It didn't take me long to move on from Miguel. After all, we hadn't really been anything anyway. There hadn't been the chemistry and history that Cody and I had had, and if I was being honest with myself, I hadn't allowed myself to get too into Miguel; somehow, I had known that it wouldn't work out, that it was just a passing fancy for him. Maybe if I'd put out that night in the video store office he would have hung around for longer, but I didn't want my first time to be with an overly aggressive guy that I didn't have any real feelings for.

Courtney and I slowly got closer. I had realized that I was being a bitch just to be a bitch; she wasn't trying to replace Cody, and it wasn't her fault that he had left me, that we were growing apart. Courtney looked up to me, wanted very badly to be my friend. Once we started actually being friends, she confessed to me that she'd encouraged Miguel and I because she had thought that if she could find me a guy to love -- or fuck -- I'd like her. It made me sad to know that I'd been so horrible to her but also made me feel blessed to have a friend who wanted me to be happy, who would actively try to make it happen for me.

Around Christmas of that year, Courtney and I were working together on a Friday night when her friend Markie stopped in to say hi. Normally, I cannot stand grown men who still go by the ie or y version of their name -- Tommy, Davy, Danny, etc -- but for some reason with Markie, it just made sense. He was shorter than I, with dark brown hair and kind brown eyes hidden behind clear plastic-framed glasses. He had braces, which I found oddly endearing, and was the gayest guy I'd met thus far in my life. He was seventeen, a senior in high school, and Courtney's very best friend in the whole world. Oddly enough, I felt incredibly comfortable around him; we flirted and exchanged Snapchat usernames. I figured we could be friends; it would be nice to have a friend that was also gay -- the majority of my 'friends' were the guys I worked with; all straight. Nothing against straight guys, but it did get old constantly being asked how I knew for sure I was gay if I hadn't been with a woman. My rebuttal was always, 'how do you know you're straight if you haven't been with a guy?'

The following night, I was feeling lonely and brave; I snapped Markie, telling him that he should come hang out with me. It didn't take long for him to agree -- Courtney had already gone home -- it would be our first time hanging out just the two of us. I couldn't help but worry that I would find a way to mess it up, that I'd scare him off, but the minute he walked into the lobby and flashed me that adorable grin, all of my fears and insecurities were quelled.

We ended up sitting in my car after work. At first, we made not quite awkward small talk. I learned that Markie didn't attend Pinconning High School like Courtney, but rather an Arenac County school that I'd never heard of. His parents were divorced; he was incredibly close with his mother -- they watched Gilmore Girls together -- and she was incredibly supportive of his sexuality. I couldn't help but wish that my mom and I had been able to be that open when I was still living at home. He lived with his dad -- for some reason -- despite the fact that his dad wasn't entirely whelmed with the fact that his only son was a sugar plum fairy.

The more we talked, the more I felt myself liking Markie. I couldn't help but find every little thing he did absolutely adorable; from the way his voice cracked when he was nervous, to the way he threw his head back when he laughed. He and Miguel had had a brief flirtation, but it hadn't worked out for them either, which made me feel better; apparently Miguel was just an asshole. The idea of Miguel touching Markie, of Miguel kissing Markie twisted in my gut like knife.

"Are you a top or a bottom? Markie asked me, resting his head in his hand as watched me dreamily.

"I'm a virgin," I admitted. For the first time I wasn't embarrassed about it; I knew that Markie wasn't judging me. "But I feel like I'd lean more toward a top."

"I could never top," Markie confessed, shaking his head profusely. "It's too much pressure. What if I couldn't get hard? Or stay hard? I'd rather just have to worry about bottoming."

I wasn't going to lie, the idea of Markie bottoming for me, of me getting to strip him naked, of getting to lay with his smooth legs wrapped around my waist or up on my shoulders, of getting to lose my virginity to him -- and take his virginity too -- got me rock hard.

It was cold outside -- despite the heat in my car -- I noticed that Markie was leaning very close to me, looking up at me through his lashes. I suspected that he wanted me, but I was too afraid to make the first move.

"You could kiss me, you know," he said finally, chewing on his lip tantalizingly.

"I'm not really good at making the first move," I confessed, grateful that he couldn't see my cheeks burn with shame in the darkness of the car. "Besides, I never make a move without getting the green light."

"I'm practically leaning on you, I'd say that's pretty much the biggest green light ever," he retorted.

As if my body had a mind of its own, I leaned in and started kissing him. It was like a surge of electricity shot through my body as our lips met again and again. I didn't worry about his braces, nor his bad breath -- his breath was lovely. My hand buried itself in the back of his head, coiled in his hair. I wanted to kiss him everywhere, to claim him as mine there and then, but I didn't want to come on too strong too fast; it wasn't just about sex, I wanted to hold him and kiss him until I'd die if we didn't stop.

As we continued to kiss, I found myself doing something that I rarely do -- I opened my mouth wider and allowed our tongues to meet. Normally French kissing is a huge turn off for me, but in that case, it worked like an aphrodisiac. I wanted to grab his plump ass, to pull him onto my lap and kiss his neck, his nipples, but I wasn't sure of the legalities of all of it; I was twenty-four and he was seventeen, almost eighteen. Was it illegal for me to touch him? To kiss him?

We kissed for what felt like forever, but conversely, did not last long enough to satisfy my hunger for him. It was getting late; I had to get home before my grandma panicked and sent a search party out for me, and Markie had to pee; we grudgingly kissed goodnight and parted ways. That night, I lay in bed, beaming with happiness as I thought back on my evening with Markie. Was it possible that I had finally met a guy that I could be with? A guy who was perfect for me?

The next day at work, Courtney was beaming. After we'd made our goodbyes the night before, Markie had gone to Courtney's house to pee and hang out. "He couldn't stop talking about you," she gushed, "he's making you out to be some kind of sex god!"

I was flattered that my night with Markie had meant as much to him as it meant to me; it meant so much, in fact, that I didn't even mind that as soon as I'd gotten home, my throat had started to hurt. It quickly turned into a cold, which Markie apologized profusely for giving to me. It didn't matter, all that mattered was that I had met a cute, smart, funny, amazing guy; I was going to do everything in my power to not mess this up one.

Markie and I stayed in touch via Snapchat; within just a few days he quickly became my top friend. As Christmas break ended and he went back to his dad's, we maintained contact; I loved hearing about his school day and his dream of going to CMU to become a journalist. We talked about the mutual attraction between us and planned a double-date with Courtney and her then-boyfriend, Graham. For the first time in a long time, everything in my life seemed to be working out for me.

I knew that I really liked Markie because there was no desire nor rush to exchange nudes. I still wasn't sure if what we were doing was illegal or not, but I decided that I wouldn't allow anything sexual to happen until he was eighteen -- just to be safe. His birthday was in April, which gave us three months to strengthen our bond before we introduced sex into the equation.

A couple of weeks into our courtship, Markie started to respond less than usual. At first, I figured he was just tired from school and his extracurriculars, on top of college prep, but when I finally built up the courage to ask him if everything was okay, he told me that he liked me, but he was hesitant to start a relationship since he'd be leaving for Mount Pleasant in seven months.

It felt like a knife had been driven into my heart and twisted. Maybe I'd been foolish for thinking that we could work out, that someone like Markie could actually want someone like me, but his attention had felt amazing, had made me happier than I'd been in months. I didn't want to give up on all of that just because things might be a little complicated.

I tried to assure Markie that I was okay with not being his top priority at the moment, that we could make long-distance work, after all, Mount Pleasant was only about forty-five minutes away. Unfortunately, Markie could not be swayed; he didn't want to be distracted with a relationship, he wanted to focus on his aspirations. I couldn't begrudge him that, but I'd be lying if I said that his rejection didn't hurt immensely.

We lost touch after that. It wasn't long before Markie dropped completely off my top friends list on Snapchat; he didn't visit Courtney at work when he was in town to see his mom. It was like he'd been a ghost, a fantasy that I'd conjured up to survive a trauma. How could he cut me off so easily? At the time I was incredibly hurt and couldn't understand why he wouldn't talk to me; in hindsight, I think that it hurt him, too, but it was a decision that he had to make for himself.

I saw Markie a few times after that -- Courtney, Graham, and I attended his graduation as well as his graduation party -- but that was it. While the spark was still very much there for me, Markie was just being kind, polite. As much as I wanted that ship to be waiting in the harbor, for Markie, the ship had sailed. Finally, I had to admit defeat and let him go.

All these years later, I still think back on that time as the last time I felt truly innocent. In some ways I'm so jaded now; it's almost impossible for me to get close to new people. When I do meet a guy that I click with, I spend so much time trying to remain indifferent, to not let my feelings show; I've lost the ability to just allow myself to feel my feelings, damn the outcome.

I haven't seen Cody in a few years. The last time that I talked to his mother, she told me that he was engaged. I'm happy for him, truly. I miss the closeness that we once shared, but I've come to realize that just because a relationship doesn't last forever, it doesn't mean it wasn't significant. People come and go in your life, that doesn't mean that it wasn't impactful. We found each other at a time when we both really needed a friend; I wish him nothing but joy and happiness in his life, though I'm no longer a part of it.

Five or six years later, Miguel moved back into my area; I spotted him on Grindr but figured he wouldn't remember me. I messaged him a few times, but he didn't reply. After I took a break from Grindr for a few months, I went back on and saw him again. When I messaged him that time, he responded, though he didn't seem at all familiar with me. I ended up sending him a dick pic; although he enjoyed it, he was offended that I seemed to be all about sex and blocked me. I looked him up to see where is today; Google was kind enough to inform me that he'd gotten married in 2024 and as far as I can tell he is living his dream in medical sciences.

As for Markie, I've seen him on Grindr a few times after he left for college. One night when we were messaging, he told me that he lost virginity to some random guy at college; they went for a walk in the woods and decided to stop and have sex. I was jealous at the time, but I've since realized that just because I wanted him, didn't mean that he was mine. A quick Facebook search told me that he now lives in Ann Arbor with his boyfriend of four years; from what little I can see on his profile, it appears like he's having a fantastic life.

I often mourn the loss of the innocence I had back then, before I learned that I couldn't just give my heart freely to a guy just because he was cute and kind and said all of the right things. As I've gotten older, I've learned to harden my heart, not to fall for pretty words from pretty boys; I keep my cards close to my chest, never fully revealing my hand. I wish that I could have retained some of that innocence, had not allowed myself to become cynical. Even if I were to meet a guy that gave me all of the green flags, I still wouldn't be able to fully invest and allow myself to get attached until enough time had passed that I was sure that he would stick around. Dating has done nothing to heal my already prevalent abandonment issues.

I hope that one day I'll be able to let my walls down and allow someone in again. Everyone gets hurt in the dating world, but I take each rejection, each heartbreak personally; I internalize it, try to analyze what it is about myself that makes it so that no one can ever love me in the way that I want to be loved. It would be a blessing to be able to give myself more freely again, to recapture the magic of youth, to rediscover the power of love. Somewhere deep inside of me lives a scared, lonely little boy that just wants to be loved; through numerous disappointments and heartbreaks he has learned that it's better to be aloof, to not let people in. I would like to rescue that little boy and show him that the world is a magical place if you're brave enough and open enough to let your guard done and love uninhibitedly.