BOTTOMS UP
All right.
We went camping this weekend because I decided that, if we were going to embark on such a big next step in our relationship, I would need a nice, quiet, secluded area to feel comfortable. But that comfort comes at a cost. A lot can happen in the woods and, believe you me, I thought up just about every way this trip could go wrong.
Here are my main concerns in no particular order.
SANDRO MICELI’S TOP FIVE REASONS NOT TO LOSE YOUR BUTT VIRGINITY IN THE WOODS
1. My Ass is a Minefield
I knew the day would come. I mean, it’s homosexuality’s big-ticket item, right? You tell someone you’re gay and their first, second, or third thought is:
“Oh, so he’s cool getting a dick in the ass?”
Growing up the way I did, I was inundated with the idea that all gay guys do is gasp over brunch and sit on some cock. Which sounded like a nice Sunday. The concept of butt stuff was never unattractive to me, given the right guy, and I’ll admit my fingers have gone spelunking during the occasional long shower. But I know me. I know my body. I have lived with my ass for nearly eighteen years and he is not a friendly neighbor. My ass is the old man from Up. Selfish, loud, and comfortable living a solitary life. But much like the old man from Up, my ass would need to open up and learn to let that special someone inside.
So, after spending an entire morning washing my war zone obsessively, Bash picked me up and we drove Birdie two or so hours upstate to a camping area Del recommended. It was a really nice spot. It was like the Sticks but more alive somehow.
That’s sort of how I’d been feeling about everything lately. Since that day on the roof, everything felt new.
We hiked all afternoon, mainly for the hell of it, and Bash held my hand the entire time. At the top of our trek, we realized we’d never actually held hands before and Bash was very eager to right that wrong. Making up for lost time.
Three hours and two sweaty palms later, we found a good stopping point under some trees and set up Del’s tent near this amazing lake we’d stumbled onto. I didn’t tell Bash all the big plans I had for my ass, but I think he could tell I had something up my sleeve. We were arguing over the best way to start a fire, neither one of us wanting to admit that we didn’t know the first thing about it, when he kissed me. He keeps doing that. Just out of nowhere. We’ll be talking or sometimes just doing nothing, and I’ll see a change in his face. Like he suddenly remembers he’s allowed to kiss me. It’s nice. And the exact opposite of what I needed right then.
Because even with my morning of cheek-scrubbing, I hadn’t accounted for the two-hour drive, three-hour hike, and (God’s greatest prank) the sudden recurrence of early spring humidity. All this to say, a refresher in that lake was looking mighty fine right about then. It’s not like I’d crapped myself but this was a big step so forgive me if I was feeling a bit anal.*
*(Feeling a Bit Anal was the original title of this list)
2. Bears
Self-explanatory.
3. The Eggplant
We were alone in the woods and, my God, did I want to fuck. We hadn’t gone that far since December and I could feel us both wanting it. But I suggested skinny-dipping first because why the hell not? We stripped naked and Bash immediately folded our clothes. He’s weird like that. I was watching him fold my boxers into a neat little square when, staring down the barrel of it, I remembered just how big his dick is.
Goddamn it.
Allow me one quick sidebar.
I am not a picky eater. Even as a little boy, I was always a big “try anything once” kind of kid. But somewhere between the original American Idol getting canceled and the new American Idol getting rebooted, my mom went on this big health kick. Suddenly all my favorite meals of hers were getting converted into whatever veggie-forward, carb-free, no-cheese recipe Ma ripped off the internet that week.
So, innocent Lil’ Sandro was understandably upset when he bit into WHAT HE WAS TOLD to be his all-time fave, chicken parm, only to find a stringy, wet imposter swimming in his marinara. Eggplant Parmesan. “Just as good as the original, and only half the calories!”
NO.
DECEPTION.
Baby Sandro just about threw that fucking plate across the table. Don’t get me wrong, I love vegetables. When they’re honest. When they’re not gallivanting around, pretending to be something they aren’t. Because chicken parm is my ultimate comfort food. And part of that comfort is expectation. In knowing what you’re getting into. I know what will make me comfortable. Stay in your lane, aubergine.
Okay. Sidebar complete.
Now, this seems like an incredibly long road to get to my point but, believe me, it is the best way to describe what I was looking at by the lake. A familiar feeling of surprise. Because in sex ed, they had us put condoms on bananas. I was ready for a banana. I had mentally prepared myself for the concept of a banana in my future. I knew what I’d be getting into. But Bash had an eggplant. Bigger, thicker, and harder to handle than what I expected on my plate.
4. Jason Voorhees
All I’m saying is those movies have to get their ideas from somewhere.
You don’t know.
5. I AM NOT A REAL ATHLETE
The thing you never consider when you visualize the loss of your virginity is the positioning. The body rolls and leg cramps. The hold on’s and the oh, sorry’s. But, aside from some pain in the beginning, the sailing was pretty smooth on Halloween. We were lucky. But I have literally studied the odds of lightning striking twice.
After our swim, we were naked in the tent and drying off under a quilt. The lake was pretty cold so our bodies were tense and, how you say, shrunken. Bash was talking about going exploring in the morning but all I could think about was my legs. In our short career as bed partners, Bash has experimented with a great many positions. He’s a real completionist so, those first couple of goes, he never stayed in the same position twice. A true D1 athlete. But I’m not like Bash. I’ve been stuck in a cast for most of the year and can’t be folded into a pretzel so easily.
Being frozen in a tent only hampered my mobility further. If you haven’t gathered, I am not a small person. My legs alone are taller than most elementary schoolers. For both of our safety, it was best that my tree trunks stay out of the air and, if necessary, be strapped to the ground. This limited me to basically one position. As the old masters once wrote:
Face down, ass up.
Not exactly the most dignified of positions but decidedly more than the “baby on a diaper-changing table” position the internet recommended for first-time drivers.
At the end of the day, I just didn’t want to look stupid. I really didn’t want to look stupid for Bash. I just got him back. Things have been going so fucking well and I didn’t want my giant legs or hairy gut or uncooperative ass to get in the way of what was supposed to be a really special night.
That’s just five of the hundreds of reasons that ran through my head that night. That’s my problem. It’s kind of both our problems. We spend all this time living in our heads, watching and observing and thinking of all the reasons something could go wrong. But when we were lying there in the tent, trying to get warm, I couldn’t think of that list. I left all my reasons to worry in that lake and I could only think of one thing.
SANDRO MICELI’S TOP REASON
TO TRY SOMETHING NEW
1. I Love Bash
Hey, big surprise, I love the guy. I really do. And he said he loved me too. He actually said it first which is wild. So, yeah. I guess we’re in love.
Ta-daaaaaa.
I cannot begin to express how wild that is. Like he’s said it a couple of times now, that he loves me, and every time I just start laughing. Like he just told me he saw a dog mowing the lawn. Like I don’t believe it but wouldn’t that be awesome? I mean, obviously, I believe him. He’s my best friend. He wouldn’t lie about something like that. I guess I just don’t believe that it happened to me. That I would find someone like him and he’d see whatever he sees in me.
The sun had officially set and Bash was holding me. It wasn’t our usual MO but it helped with the cold. He’s always so damn warm. Like he just hopped out of the dryer. I could feel all that heat against me and thought, Eh, fuck it.
Our Songs to Be Nude To playlist was going on the speaker, “U Got It Bad” had just started, and my hips did this sort of shaking/rubbing thing to the beat. Something Bash has done before to me to let me know what he wants. I thought it was time to return the favor.
“Oh. Really?”
“Sure.”
“We’re in the woods.”
“I am aware.”
“Bigfoot could be watching.”
“...Let him.”
Bash laughed and pulled me closer to him. He nuzzled my neck and kissed it like he did that first night in the ditch. And I wasn’t so cold anymore.
After a few hours of tests and lube and failures and lube and successes, I snuck off to the lake to clean up. I took a minute in the water to laugh at the surreality of the situation. I was buck-ass naked, washing myself in a lake, having just had earth-shattering sex with a boy who loved me. In North Jersey of all places.
“Jesus.”
I kissed my chain and thanked God I decided to go to the Beer Olympics that night.
When I got back, he was asleep. Bash once told me he could never fall asleep anywhere but his bed. Especially in public. It probably meant something that he could sleep so soundly now but I was too tired to decipher it. My body had been pushed to the edge. I was done for the night. So, instead, I got under our blankets and held him. Warmed myself up again. Traced messages into his chest and listened to him breathe.
Bash mumbled something nonsensical about hats. I didn’t know he talked in his sleep. I stored that fact away in the newly reopened Bash Villeda Database and made a note to ask him about it later. It felt good to be learning more about Bash again. Even with all this data I’ve collected so far, I’m still learning more and more every day. Day after day. Days and days and days.
I heard the number in my head.
One hundred and forty-three.
I looked at Bash’s watch. It was after midnight.
One hundred and forty-two.
That number’s the real reason I worry. Why I needed the night to go well. Why I laugh when Bash says he loves me. Because our time is running out. Already. Every day, a little less.
It’s not fair. To get something so great, so late. I just want more time with him.
I traced RUTGERS into his chest and tried to go to sleep.