Still living in my Texas college town two years after graduation, I became unwillingly (but fortunately!) single when my girlfriend left me for an addled small-time weed dealer. A few weeks later, a former dorm neighbor and friend tracked me down. Younger than me by 14 months, he too had stayed in town and had just re-entered singlehood, after a spectacular breakup with his boyfriend.
Several times during his freshman year, my friend had made crystal clear his simmering desire to share special naked time with me, a sophomore. Increasingly attuned to the notion of heteroflexibility, when he got back in touch, I thought, “Here’s my chance to explore.” So when he asked me to lunch, I went—though it turned out not to feel like a date, and the talk never veered toward the bedroom.
But less than a month later, he called one night. Early in the conversation, he enthused, “It was great seeing you again, and it is so good just hearing your voice.”
“I feel the same about you,” I replied.
More chat. Then he said, “I still think about you, and how…comfortable…we both seem to feel around each other.”