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The camp curfew was midnight, and we'd broken that by nearly an hour or two or three, but it wasn't likely we'd be caught, since that was one rule that was almost universally ignored. We were quiet as a church mouse as we walked toward my dark and silent cabin. In just a few weeks, Brad would be returning to New York University, and I would be starting my freshman year at Hamner College in Virginia, where nobody knew me. It was highly unlikely that we would ever see or talk to each other ever again. In a way, you know, I was sort of glad. Sometimes it's better that way. I know it's easy to get over attached to the first person you ever have sex with, and the only thing that usually comes of that is hurt feelings.
We said good-night at my doorstep, and Brad gave me a friendly kiss on the cheek and a squeeze on the butt. I stood and watched him walk to his own cabin.
He walked with a spring in his step, and halfway along, he started to sing quietly. It was an old song. I knew that song. "Life is a bowl of cherries."
I just had to chuckle.
- COMMENTS
Anonymousalmost 17 years agoI enjoyed the humor. Kind of reminds me of my first time (as a guy), Thanks.
