I’m From Stockton, CA.

by Brian Wick

State Satellite overhead image from Google Earth 2022

It was my junior year and the day before Halloween. I was at a friend’s party sitting on the couch. Next to me was this gorgeous guy with blond hair and blue eyes. His girlfriend was next to him. I had met the two that day. I sat there stiffly.

The girl finds out I’m gay from my friend and she starts staring at me and her boyfriend. Then she asks:

“Can you two kiss for me?”

Her boyfriend looks at me, smiles sweetly and says, “Sure, as long as it’s okay with you?”

I stutter out, “S-sure.”

He leans in kisses me once lightly on my lips. It was my first kiss with a guy. His girlfriend is looking at us acting all giddy.

Later, he and I go outside where its more private and I ask him if we can kiss again. He is sweet about it:

“You know I’m straight, but I will anyways.”

“Why?” I ask

“It doesn’t bother me and you’re a nice guy who deserves it.” He leans in and instead of the one second kiss I got before he kisses me passionately this time. I am so taken aback that when he stops I almost forget to breathe.

After we go back in, his girlfriend pulls me aside.

“I feel bad,” she says.

“Why?” I ask.

“You like him a lot and I feel like I’m taking that away,” I stare dumbfounded by this girl.

“He’s straight. He doesn’t feel that way towards me.” She goes on more about how she thinks he should be mine and not hers. I assure her, he isn’t into me like that.

The night goes on. Before I go home–I don’t know why I did this–I ask him for one last kiss. He obliges and kisses me then pulls me in for an embrace and whispers:

“Any guy who gets with you is one lucky guy.”

We talk via the internet and the phone after that. His relationship doesn’t last more than another week, but that was because she was a bit nutty. The talking doesn’t last much longer than that, but he does tell me I was a better kisser than her.

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