You are currently browsing the tag archive for the ‘teenager’ tag.

Sex is a challenging subject to summarize into a lesson, and I felt it was necessary to spread it out into three different parts.Part 1: “Pews of Desire”, I examine my earliest physiological experiences with puberty.Part 2: “The Pelvic Compass”, focused on the social dynamics of courtship and seduction. Those two lessons were essential stepping stones for the pen-ultimate experience of my sexuality… love.

Part 2 left off with this sentiment:
I needed to find a genuine identity that would be worth dating

That is precisely what I did going into High-School. I stopped chasing tail and focused on my own personality. The little socializing I did was conducted without ulterior motives, and was centered around my passion for heavy metal music and video-games. Freshman year quickly passed by and to my knowledge not a single woman knew I had a penis. Until the beginning of my sophomore year when a complete stranger slipped a note on my desk.

“My friend thinks your cute, if you ask her out she will say yes”.

A few weeks later I was in her friends basement and I reached my curious hands up her shirt and fondled her breasts. I liked this, and I hoped it was making her just as happy; but when I touched her vagina I realized: happiness shouldn’t feel that dry. Later that evening she brought out photo-albums and shared stories about her fondest childhood memories. I wondered what part of her body I could touch next, and as my erection subsided I actually started listening to her stories. I eventually figured out that she wanted a partner, not an enthusiastic diddle buddy.

Two lonely years later fortune struck again when I intercepted an online chat message on my friends computer. He assured me he had no interest in her and encouraged me to pursue at-will. Her screen-name was something like “Metalica chick”, so all I knew about her was her age, an interest in heavy metal, and a cute smile based on a black & white yearbook photo. Since I was in a heavy metal band I figured it was already meant to be. We started dating soon after that first chat and this time I did it right from the beginning. I listened to her stories, smiled warmly when she looked into my eyes and I kept my pervy hands to myself. After our official first date we spent the evening in a little park where I successfully escalated my way into her heart. We laid on a grassy hill looking at the stars and she took my hand into hers, placed her head against my shoulder, and she smiled at me in a way that seemed like she had been with me for an eternity. We shared our first kiss in that very moment and I knew immediately something I had never known before. This is love.

I couldn’t fully understand or rationalize this new feeling, but I was aware that something different was happening to me. We went on a spring picnic date near the lake in a spot where we couldn’t be seen and spent hours in our private garden of hormones. I felt how happy I had made her vagina and I told her that I was in love with her. She happily agreed to be my first ever date for a school dance. 

I had finally made my first note-worthy public statement in the social-dating world as I pinned a flower to her dress, took expensive photos in front of a cheesy school backdrop and held my date closely in my arms as we danced the night away. Everything was perfect accept a moment during the last dance she seemed a little sad about something. I knew it was my job to hold her close and make her feel safe. I did not sexualize her that night because I knew she needed a supportive partner to make her feel safe. The next date she was back to her horny-self, and gave me my first ever hand-job; this first was memorably concluded when she said, “Ewe! It’s everywhere”.

Our young love had also spilled out into the school hallways as we passed our special binder of love-notes back and forth five days a week. In those notes were three passages that I will never forget. The first referenced one of the greatest mistakes I have ever made. 

She wrote,
 “I wanted to sneak in the bathroom and give your first blowjob, but you locked the door and I didn’t want anyone to hear me go in”.
I wrote back,
“SHIT!!! I will never lock a bathroom door ever again!”

She wrote back with the second unforgettable passage,
“My parents will be out of town tonight come over and be my first, I’m ready bring condoms”

I was delirious with excitement and ditched school to go condom shopping. I spent the rest of the day in my room trying on condoms and watching the clock count-down towards the end of my childhood. I got a phone-call from a whispering girlfriend telling me to come over and wait silently in her backyard. After one hour, then two, and finally nearly three hours later her backdoor opened. She stands in a dark laundry room with wet hair and drops her bathrobe to reveal a sexy outfit. Before I could express how much this was moment is worth every trial & tribulation I had ever endured, she tells me the bad news. Her little-brother was still awake and in his room right next to hers with his door open. She devised a plan that I would wear her bathrobe and calmly walk into her room as if I’m her. Then fifteen minutes later she would walk in her room and hope that her brother would think she got dressed and was walking around the house. We looked nothing alike, and I feared the worst.

I followed her direction exactly and it worked. I lit a bunch of candles and we lost our virginity. I was loving, passionate and gentle as I climaxed quickly. I held her in my arms until she fell asleep and I snuck out leaving her a love note on the nightstand. It was the greatest night of my entire high-school career, and I was too happy to even sleep that night.

On the following date I was excited for round two sex. She came over to my house wearing the ugliest green velvet blouse I had ever seen; but its oddness turned me on and I looked forward to unbuttoning it. Sadly she was in a bad mood and I spent an hour relentlessly kissing a half-interested partner. I took out the condom hoping sex might cheer her up and she ignored the gesture but proceeded to give me my first ever blowjob instead. At the time I thought it was amazing, and looking back it was really just patch-over.

The next day, I got the the third unforgettable notebook passage when she wrote,
“Lets take a break”

I wrote her a long letter to declare my supportive intentions to endure this break and start over where we left off when she is ready. I figured we are in love how can a little break possibly threaten what we share. I went to our meeting spot and she was not there. We eventually crossed paths and as I approached her she was visibly holding back tears and kept walking. I discovered that she was back with an ex-boyfriend, and even worse that he is actually the guy she really lost her virginity with before she met me. 

The next day I approached her with a large envelope filled with our professional school dance ripped to pieces along with our binder of love letters with my autograph on the cover. 

Below my autograph I added this note:
“You can sell this when I’m a rich and famous rock-star”

I learned who her ex was and I instantly remembered them exchanging a long look at one another during that school dance. He was the reason she was sad that night, and I imagine him looking at a woman he loved dancing with someone-else and I know he felt the same sadness. 

Over-time I began connecting all these dots and red flags that had I intentionally overlooked. I slowly began to understand and accept that she was never in love with me. That is what makes this difficult, because everyone is the prince and princess of their romantic fairy-tale. We must accept the harsh reality that these fictions are only worth creating because we never know how it will end and who it will end with. But through all the mistakes, failures and dark days of loneliness we keep writing this story because you never know when you can finally write: “Happily ever-after”. Until then always write, 

“to be continued……”

Does anyone have a “Sixth Sense” story of their own? If so please share 🙂


Avery, I wrote a lesson called, “The Pews of Desire”. This lesson was about the conversion from youthful innocence into the nefarious challenges of puberty. That story was merely the part-one of three for the story of my sexual maturity that I’m officially dubbing as “The Horny Trinity”.

The Pelvic Compass:

My first attempts to court a partner is a cliche riddled montage of “Will you go out with me”, followed by awkward verbiages of, “Lets just be friends”. I would spread-fire this strategy at any suitable targets in my path and once spent an entire Saturday crossing off girls from a list of phone numbers. I was looking for love like a telemarketer would look for a commission. I failed thoroughly and decided to focus my rigorous efforts towards a single target. When she finally said yes, it was a moment of pure bliss. Avery, I need to take this moment to apologize to my first girlfriend:

“I’m sorry I emotionally and publicly terrorized you into dating me; and I don’t blame you for having a complete stranger call and dump me over the phone.”

I needed a rebound from this failure and decided to take a new approach to seduction. Since I had made all those phone-calls and attained a long list of “friends”, I figured why not be “just friends”. I spent all my free-time hanging out with these girls and I waited patiently in the weeds of desperation hoping for that perfect moment where pity mixes with availability and creates love. After establishing these friendships I presented my availability at the local “Sock-Hop”. I would walk into these special dance parties with my entourage of platonic gal-pals ready to work some magic. Every-time a slow song is played I would guilt a friend into my arms for an awkward slow dance where my hands would slowly inch down from their waste to their ass. I thought this was a subtle message, a cute wink 😉 that would build towards a perfect moment of discovered love. A moment that would never come.

This “friend” era ends with a memorable moment between myself and the queen-bee of my female posse. She had a powerful attitude that exuded sexual confidence and was the one girl I would never cross or put a move on. I respected and treated her like I would a male friend. Over time she responded to my harmless friendship by openly and aggressive flirting with me. My gut told me this was a game of manipulation not attraction, but I enjoyed the attention as fake as I knew it to be. One day we ended up alone in her bedroom after she had been fighting with her boyfriend on the phone. I was my usual sensitive shoulder-to-cry-on self, but she had different intentions. She pulled a chair into the middle of her room facing a large open bay-window with a view into the innocent suburbs. She directed me to sit down and keep my hands behind my back as she seductively danced for me. It was torture, like a eunuch being mocked by his own castrator she turned my own insincere seduction methods against me. I wasn’t her target of affection, I was just available to be used for a personal agenda. I had thought I was just a boy looking for a girl to love, and in that moment she taught me that these girls had already become women. I wanted to figure out ways to get something I wanted, I failed to consider the possibility that I was already getting what I deserved.

After Junior High ended I decided to burn all of those bridges and move on. Looking back at group photos where everyone had a date to the dance but me, it makes sense that I eventually vanished from that circle. I was the forgettable member of the group and I decided to just be forgotten. I carried no ill feelings towards them, I just needed to find my own genuine identity that could be worth dating and also be groped by while slow-dancing in the dark 😉

To be Continued:
The final chapter of the “Horny Trinity” shall conclude live at:
The Nerdologues Your Stories – Sunday April 15th at the Upstairs Gallery 7pm
(and the text version will be posted that following Thursday)


Awkward Moments of Parenting“, will be a short-form series about my awkward experiences within this theme. Just remember to laugh with me instead of at me, because your time will come.

The year was 1996, and while in the car with my Mom I heard an advertisement for the movie, “Mallrats” played over the car radio. Eventually I rented both “Clerks” & “Mallrats”, and fell madly in love with both of these movies. I memorized the dialogue, and idolized the characters of “Randall” and “Brody”.

“Say would you like a chocalate covered pretzel?”

A year into this obsession I was excited to find out the next Kevin Smith film “Chaising Amy”, would be playing at my local theater. It was the first of his movies to play in a theater near me. I told my Mom I wanted to see this movie. She thought it was a romantic comedy, and said, “lets go together”. I thought this was a good idea.

We sat down in the theater and right-away I could tell my Mom was not the only person confused by the romantic-comedy like title. I pointed towards three old ladies and whispered, “Those people will leave this movie in less than 15 minutes”.

Then this happens:

We hysterically laughed, and those three ladies walked out immediately. The experience of laughing at adult humor with my mother was fun for a moment, but just like those old ladies we probably should have walked out as-well.

Everything went downhill fast as the movie goes down a non-stop rabbit hole of homosexuality and homophobia, accompanied by the patent Kevin Smith sexual vulgarity.

We were not a family that discussed sex, and we definitely did not talk about gay sex. As someone contemplating my future as a parent, it blows my mind to consider being in my Mother’s shoes for that awkward silent car ride home. Less than two-years prior to that day, I was watching the Ninja Turtles, and now I was laughing at lesbian fisting jokes.

I wonder what kind of movie or art your developing mind will gravitate towards. Will I hang in there and soldier through this transition as courageously as my Mother did.

Hi Avery,

If I can teach you one lesson, pertaining to the culture and dynamics of human-nature, it would be this:

Power Corrupts.

This rule is to human-nature, as gravity is to the universe, and as your father, protector and provider, it is my responsibility to wield the powers of adulthood for the betterment of your well-being. This role and duty is inherently a corruption of my will. The irony is that I myself, to this very day, still battle the will of my parents, and I anticipate, that I always will. Power just isn’t something you ask for, or something life just hands you, it’s something you fight for. So I expect, anticipate, and plan for, all the love and happiness we shared over your childhood, to be put aside, and I encourage you to challenge the authority of your captures.

I forgive you Avery, for I know that if I do my job right, you will not go silently into that good night. I said and did horrible things to both of my parents, and we survived. Even so, when I spend time with them, I often want to apologize for my rebellion, and what I think is guilt, may actually just be appreciation, admiration, and eventual inspiration.

Hopefully, I’m ready Avery, or as ready as I can be; either way, I will try to rememeber, that my goal is to survive this war, because there is no victor, just another recruit

From one warrior to another, bring it on brat.

Inspired by this guy:

Enter your email address to follow this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.

Join 17 other followers