At 19, and in the second semester of my sophomore year at a small New England college, I was doing all that I could to suppress any homosexual urges. I kept myself pretty fit, the girls at school seemed to like me, and I even had a steady girlfriend, whom I would see only a couple of times over the weekend since I worked while going to school. Like me, she also lived at home and commuted to another college, so opportunities for sexual activity were limited.
I remember enjoying those activities, but I had little experience with many women, beyond making out and heavy petting, since I started going steady with my girlfriend at the end of my junior year in high school. Of course, my eyes often wandered at the gym to check out those of the same gender.
Well into the second semester, there was a spring mixer at the school that I was able to attend alone. I looked forward to being unencumbered, and I'll admit that I also looked forward to getting my ego stroked since I could flirt without my girlfriend in tow. The mixer wasn't very well attended, but it was a night out alone, and I was really looking forward to that.
I've always dressed in an old New England style, so the khakis, blue and white striped oxford shirt, yellow Shetland wool sweater, and navy flannel blazer that I wore that evening were typical for me. My attire served as an ice breaker for Ray, a senior, who had been hovering about. He seemed more interested in engaging in conversation with me than with the young women who were all around us.
Ray was a few inches taller than me, with blond hair and blue eyes. He was quite charming and friendly when he pointed at me and said, "Great taste." He was wearing a similar uniform often worn at college mixers in the 1980s. From that point forward, Ray and I remained with a group of about eight, of which we were the only two males. The conversation, and the beer, flowed easily, but I had to let Ray know that I needed to cool it. I had to work the next day, so I would have to drive home when the mixer ended in about an hour.
"Hey, you can stay with me in my dorm room tonight," Ray said. He continued, "Relax, have another beer, you can drive home in the morning," convincing me that it would not be a problem. So, when the mixer ended, we wished everyone in our little group a good night, and we made our way back to Ray's dorm room.
Ray's dorm room was a single in an old building. It had a twin bed that was pushed up against the wall, a small desk, a couple of chairs, and a sink. After hanging out in the room for a bit, Ray took me down the hall to show me where the bathrooms were.
When we got back to the room, I looked at the wooden floor, and I hoped that Ray had enough blankets and pillows to make it less uncomfortable. When it was time to go to sleep, he laid out what he had, but I knew that I was headed for a rough night sleeping on the hard surface.
