Gold Star Be Gone

    As kids, teachers would use gold stars to reward our good behavior.  As gay men, we use them metaphorically to show that we’ve never touched a vagina.  I’ve never taken pride in being a gold star gay.  For me, it was merely a simple fact: I’d never slept with a woman.  

    My partner Luke, on the other hand, touched so many vaginas that he’s not only NOT a gold star gay, but practically a blackhole.  Okay that’s not true.  I just wanted to use that joke.  But back when he lived a closeted life via working in the ministry, he got biblical with a few ladies who he found fairly special.  

    Luke recalled his time with women fondly.  They weren’t the total icky-pants that some of us get so squeamish about.  So once he and I figured out how to manage a more openly sexual style of relationship, he started encouraging me to, one day, give a woman a shot.  

    I’ll admit that, over the years, I’ve grown a bit fond of straight porn.  Quick note: to my female readers out there (all six of you), I assure you it’s not the kind that degrades women.  I’m not in the market to see any facials.

    It started out as a weakness for straight guys (yes, I’m one of those).  I’d focus solely on him and ignore the woman and the over-the-top squaking noises bursting forth from her pleasure mouth.  But after watching enough of it, I started to get used to her lady parts.  It’s like eating vegetables.  Once you try them enough, you think Oh that’s not so bad after all.

    Luke offered to help facilitate the process but for some reason, I couldn’t fathom the idea of having him in the room if this ever went down.  I wasn’t opposed to a three-way though.  It’d just have to involve the girl AND her hot boyfriend.  In fact that scenario started to sound increasingly preferable. 

    But how does one make this happen?  I could hit the Craigslist ads and make a post: Gay Guy Seeking Straight Couple For First Time. But I’m the kind of guy who likes my sex to happen organically - not forced.  I couldn’t foresee any way this could ever present itself.


    During my December visit to my folk’s home in Tucson, I was determined to get out and see some night life.  I planned on just hitting up the resident gay dive bar as these tend to be my kind of joints.  But my local friend Alex invited me to join him and his friends at some nightclub downtown.  He really wanted me to meet his girlfriend. 

    We originally met Alex when we hosted him through CouchSurfing.  He was tall, blond, handsome, and talked in that dumb/bro straight guy kind of way.  Needless to say, Luke and I found it ridiculously hot.  During his stay, I hosted another body painting for me and a couple friends for Tony Dortch’s Pure.  When Alex came home, he decided that, while he didn’t want to get all painted up, he would at least get naked with us anyway.  

    Nothing happened that evening but afterwards, he began texting ambiguously flirty things with Luke.  Alex had us all turned around on just how exactly straight he was but since he was a CouchSurfing guest, we played it cautiously.  So cautiously that unfortunately nothing ever happened at all.  Thus I was determined to see him again during my Tucson visit.

    His girlfriend, Annabel, didn’t come close to what I’d imagined.  She was like a young, blond Alanis Morrissette who’d chosen a career in bodybuilding rather than singing.  Annabel had broad shoulders and dance moves unlike any woman I’d ever seen.  She kept getting in dance-offs with guys at the club and absolutely kicking their asses. In short: I liked her.

    After their friends left, the three of us decided to move on to a different club.  As we waited in line for the next one, Alex suggested we skip this place and go to the gay club just up the way.

    “Oh, no,” I said. “Seriously guys, we don’t need to go to a gay club for my sake.  I’m totally fine where ever.”

    But Alex kept pressuring for it, saying how it was just five or so blocks up the way and would be an easy walk.  His obvious desire to be in a queer joint once again riddled him with sexual ambiguity.  It had me wondering if he had some secret intentions by steering it all in this direction.  Could this be it?  Could this be the night I’d lose my gold star virginity and have a heterosexual(ish) three-way? 

    Like a true gentleman, Alex ran off to go get the jacket Annabel had left at the first club.  She and I got a head start while making chit-chat along the way.  I learned that she’d moved to Tucson with a guy she’d been dating who later turned out to be a total jerk.  Annabel thought she’d given up on men until she met Alex.  Apparently they had only been dating for a few months.  She really liked him.

    My hopes had turned to disappointment.  I couldn’t have a three-way with them if they’d only been together a few months.  I believe that couples should be together for AT LEAST a year before they start getting sexually adventurous.  They need to build that foundation with each other first in order to trust each other with such things later.

    I was also slightly relieved.  The idea of having sex with a woman is a bit scary.  The fear is not so much about the “physical” but more so about the “circumstantial or situational.” Will it be awkward?  Will I be bad?  Would I embarrass myself?  What if I try going down on her and I accidentally sneeze or something?!  That’d be horrible!!!

    In the gay club, we hit the dance floor right away and quickly worked up a sweat.  Since I was now among my queer-peers, I felt comfortable (and overly eager) to take off my shirt.  Alex and Annabel raised their hands and cheered me on.  We were having a blast.

    A few songs later, I noticed another girl and guy dancing near me.  She was thin with gorgeous long blond hair.  Geez, why is everyone in this story blond?  Her male companion didn’t have blond hair but had a lightly bearded square jaw that made me drool.  Both were dressed in fashionable sweaters that still managed to show off their amazing bodies.

    The girl and I flirted and made our way over to each other for some good old fashioned grinding.  I didn’t think anything of it as girls usually love dirty dancing with the gay boys.  I get it all the time.  But her guy quickly moved to join in.

    I decided to take a small risk by putting my left hand on her shoulder and then wrapping my right arm around to put my hand on his shoulder too.  Neither seemed to be bothered by this.  The energy felt connected.

    As most dance grinding goes, it had a short expiration date due to someone falling out of sync (usually me).  We separated and went back to shaking our own booties independently from one another.  But a short while later, she came within my zone and used her finger to beckon me back towards her.  

    This time, I went further with it - grabbing onto her back and pulling her into me.  I pushed her hair away so I could admire her neck, as though I would kiss it.  This is something straight guys do too, right?  Admire ladies’ necks?  Anyway, she certainly didn’t seem to mind as she held tightly on to my naked, sweaty torso.  The guy danced near us watching - not with disdain or jealousy, but with curiosity - perhaps desire.

    It wasn’t long before he pulled up behind her and joined once again. My left hand that held on to her back kept bumping into his hard chest.  So I decided to take it a little further with him too.  Instead of merely putting my right hand on his shoulder again, I slid it up his sweater onto his bare torso.  I felt a fair amount of fur flowing over his abs.

    If I wasn’t fully pitching a tent pole before, I absolutely was now and the girl noticed.  She took her leg that had steadily idled between mine and drove it hard into my crotch. My hand didn’t leave his body and yet he didn’t pull away.  I wanted to kiss her.  Was this really happening?!  Was “this” really going to happen?  It was official.  I wanted to have sex with her.  And, well, him too of course.

    When the song changed, we broke apart for, if nothing else, a break. I found Alex and Annabel off to the side of the dance floor where they had been cooling off themselves.

    “Seem’s like something interesting was brewing over there,” Alex said.

    “Yeah, that was totally unexpected,” I replied.  Really, what I wanted to say to him was “See!  Look!  I am totally down for lady sex!”

     Alex said that the time had come for them to call it a night and asked if I’d like to walk back with them.  I opted to stay behind so that I could see if what had been brewing would actually be drinkable.  I returned to the dance floor and danced patiently and alone… waiting for round three.

    But the mystery girl and guy didn’t return.  In fact there was no sign of them anywhere.  It really was getting late and if this was going happen, it needed to happen soon.  I decided to do a final loop around the club.  If I couldn’t find them, then I’d cut my losses and call it a night as well.  

    No such loss-cutting was needed though.  A couple rooms later, I saw them from afar.  They were talking - she sitting on a ledge while he stood between her legs.  They looked happy.  And suddenly it hit me.  I’d have to face another situational fear: making the first move.

    I have never made the first move in my entire life - at least not in person.  The mere thought of it always kicked in my shy side.  It’s ironic because whenever someone makes the first move on me, I immediately hold them in high regard for the guts it took to do it.  But if left up to me, I would simply flirt and then run away as fast as possible.  I’m always worried I’ll fumble over my words and look dumb.  Plus I have a fear of rejection - something I very much need to work on as well.

    However I couldn’t let fear stop me this time.  I’d waited for an opportunity like this for years.  If running towards fear had worked for me so well before, I certainly had to pick up the pace now.  The adrenaline began to pump through my veins as I made my way over to these gorgeous strangers.

    “Hi,” I said as they both turned and looked at me. “I saw ya sitting over here and thought I’d come by to introduce myself.  I’m Scott.”

    She smiled.  “Nice to meet you.  I’m blahblahblah.” (Technically I can’t remember her name.  But I didn’t want to come up with more pseudonyms for this story.)  

    The guy introduced himself as well and he seemed foreign - a strange name sounding even stranger with an accent.  I didn’t care.  I didn’t need their identification.  I just needed them naked.  With me.

    “So,” I went in for the kill.  “I was curious… I wanted to ask… are you guys looking for a third tonight?”

    The girl smiled again but followed it by shaking her head. “No.  I’m sorry,” she said.  “We aren’t tonight.”

    I had officially been rejected. “No worries,” I said.  And I meant it.  “Thank you both for the fun night.  Have a good rest of your night.”

    Sure I fumbled my words a little.  But while I made the long trek back to my car, I felt a weird sensation.  Or maybe I should say I felt a weird lack of a sensation.  Not one ounce of me was filled with regret or self doubt for getting turned down.  Instead I felt like a (not to use a redundant word from my last essay) total and utter badass!

    For whatever their situation was, I wasn’t the right guy for them.  Or maybe they just weren’t ready for a threeway.  I’d never know.  And I didn’t need to know.  All I knew was that they had made me feel incredibly sexy earlier that evening and it gave me the confidence to do something most folks wouldn't: ask a random heterosexual couple if they’d like to have a three-way.

    The confidence it took to face that rejection simply wouldn’t let me feel degraded or ashamed.  I may have ended that night still having my gold star, but I also ended it getting filled with a ton of guts - the very same guts I often admire in others.  And I realized that, in all my fear-facing, I hadn't ever actually felt my own guts before.  The sensation of it set me on fire from the glorious rush of it all.  

    Perhaps one day my time would come.  But it would come when the time is right.  Until then, I’d wait with a great deal of patience - that truly worthy of a teacher’s gold star.


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