There was this pretty cute boy from school who I was half in love with when I was 17. We were good friends, and had been for a while, and nothing ever really came up between us romantically. But when we parted ways to go to our universities - me going south, him going north – we decided to keep in contact and visit each other often.
It was when he came for his first visit that he dropped the bombshell that he was in fact bisexual. He had known I was gay since we were both much younger, but the sudden admission was quite jarring. He didn’t want to make a big deal out of it at the time, he was still taking time to process his new LGBT status and I, being the good mate I was, didn’t raise it again during his whole visit.
On Saturday we decided to go to one of the local clubs, but we both got very bored very quickly and decided to recapture our misbegotten youth by hitting the nearest off-licence for their cheapest spirits. We went to the nearby park by the club, found a sort of den which was surrounded by bushes so we could chat, and got completely wasted as fast as possible. I remember that it had just turned four in the morning when I, in my inebriated state, realised something had in the air had changed. My friend’s face was suddenly quite downcast and I wondered if he had hit the scotch a little too hard. I asked him what was wrong, he said ‘mothing’. I said I didn’t believe him. He looked at me and he said the one thing I was not expecting.
‘Can I kiss you?’
I didn’t know what to say, but before I could will my brain back from its vodka-induced lethargy, he was on me, kissing me so hard my lips started to sting. I could barely move, with every single nerve screaming at me to stop. But I didn’t want to, and after the initial shock I met his kiss with equal enthusiasm. We never moved from bushes, and the kiss went on and on as he wrapped his arms around my shoulders and held me tight. The kiss finally ended, but only because the drink had made my brain muddy and I disengaged from him just as the first hint of silvery pre-dawn light came into the sky.
He became nervous, and barely looked at me when he got up and started walking towards the taxi queue. He said his farewell without meeting my eyes and said he would text me in the morning to talk. His text came through an hour later to say he decided to cut his time away from university short and go back that night, but would email me when he got back to plan his next stay. Needless to say he never did.
I never told him he was my first kiss with another man. At 18 I was always slightly ashamed that it had not happened sooner, and now that it had a tiny part of me wished it hadn’t. I decided to remember my friend from school, and casually forget the events of his one and only visit. It would of been a shame to let our one night flirtation with passion ruin the good memories of our time at school. I rationalised that we were two ships passing in the night and tried to move on with my life, but I never forgot that kiss at four in the morning with my schoolboy crush.
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