It was a warm Saturday afternoon in mid August about two and a half months since I turned 18, five months since I came out to my mom. Another long shift at the warehouse had just come to an end, finally.
I had been walking along the pond, a place where I often go just to daydream. Bird songs fill the air. High wispy clouds partially cover the blue sky. Ahead of me a dog walker is being led by a Black lab. Other walkers are out in pairs or bigger groups.
I feel very lonely these days. Surely, I can't be the only gay youth who's without a partner. There has to be someone else out there who desparately wants companionship and sex. I just have to find him.
My mom, dad and mom's boyfriend have been a smokers all of my life and probably even before I came into this world. It seems so appealing and enjoyable that I can no longer resist the urge to have one. At 18 plus years old I refuse to sneak around like a minor without permission.
On the way home from my walk I stopped at the convience store in a gas station and went right to the register.
"A pack of Salem 100's please," I said to the gray-haired gent behind the counter.
I added a pink bic from the display stand nearby and handed over a shocking amount of cash.
One step outside the store I took the first drag off a cigarette and exhailed through my mouth. Fighting the queasiness, I took drag after drag, each one seconds apart. My tolerance for nicotine increased. Within 5 minutes I had finished the cigarette and crushed it under my shoe.
I never thought my tolerance would become an addiction until it did.
Time to try a dating App. A week after that long lonely walk around the pond I downloaded the LGBTQ dating App called Scruff. Late afternoon found me sitting at the picnic table in the shade scrolling through that app.
The first half dozen photos and profiles held no allure for me. These guys aren't that cute.
A profile and face got my attention and held my gaze for over a minute. Short light-brown hair frames a diamond-shaped face. Blue eyes and full lips and high cheekbones made very handsome features. He's smokin' HOT.
I lit my tenth cigarette since I got up in the morning. Hopefully my smoking is not a turn-off.
I sent a woof, then a wave. We fell into easy conversation.
Within minutes he gave his age, his real name and mentioned that he loves romance novels. The mention of romance novels gave us something to keep a chat going.
The conversation branched out into movies, actors, actors who are openly gay and secretly gay during Hollywood's "Golden Age"
The chat branched out again, this time to vacations, favorite spots.
He ended the conversation by saying that he had "things to take care of."
The next few days saw us texting one another every night. He mentioned his lively hood and talked a little bit about his employer. He talked about belonging to the fraternity.
I texted a querie. "How old are you?"
The reply came back. "27"
So what if he is 9 years older than me.
"I just turned 18 and I live with my parents. I work in a warehouse."
.
"What town do you live in?'
