Earning Seven Inches the Hard Way

When I was in my late teens, I was mild mannered, conservative and shy. (I can hear my mother laughing right now). Ok...so I was a wild child. I was living on my own when I was 17 (my father having kicked me out) and was experiencing life in NYC as an actor/waiter. This was how I started meeting a number of other gay men...most who were much older than I was. This was always problematic as I wasn't old enough to go out drinking with them (although they did try to sneak me into lots of places).

One of the guys I was working with, Dan, was planning a trip to Fire Island with his roommate Mark and asked if I wanted to come along. He said that he was renting a house and wanted to defray the cost a bit (like splitting it with 14 other people). Dan was cool, 6'1, sweet, and more importantly...had a roommate named Mark that I was in love with. Any time I saw Mark, I was trying to get his attention so of course I was in for traveling (and I was in for it).

The first night we were there, all of the guys showed up bringing enough alcohol that a fraternity house would have been shamed. I being under the legal drinking age, was a bit nervous about this...but figured these guys knew what they were doing. They were the cool ones. One of the guys was celebrating his 23rd birthday that day, so the party began a bit early (like the minute we got there).

By 10:00 pm, we were bobbing for cherries in vodka. I was given the challenge of drinking the remaining vodka in the bowl. Now common sense would have told me that drinking the vodka would be stupid, it contained the backwash of 10 attempts by other people to bob for cherries, it would make me really drunk, it doesn't even taste that bad....Oh shit...I was 17 with no common sense and I just finished it.

3

congratulated all around. People laughing at me, and I got a kiss from Mr. Abs, who of course wanted to bag himself a 17 year old....Pervert.

2

Mr. Abs is pulled away by some of his friends and I go into the dining room, where some other friends are playing a drinking game of quarters. I suck at this game. However, I stupidly began to play this game. The rules are simple. Bounce a quarter off the table and if it lands in the empty glass, you get to tell someone to drink. We added the rule that if you miss, you must take a sip of your own drink. I have no clue how many beers I consumed playing this game.

1

The room had begun to spin slightly, in a pleasant way, and the stereo was pumping while I was basically sitting on someone's lap playing this drinking game. Sitting on someone's lap? Hi...how did you get down there? Where is my shirt by the way?

Blast Off

The Earth had begun to spin at a much more rapid pace, and I was beginning to slur my words when the music was immediately shut off. The police had arrived because of a disturbing the peace call and they were checking for identification. The man whose lap I was sitting on told me to hide. I bolted to the back of the house, where I went out on the second floor deck (where my buddy Dan happened to be hiding as well...we both were underage). Now in my drunken panic state, I was very nervous and when I saw the police officer in the room that opens onto the deck, Dan decided we needed to hide better (AKA get away). He jumped over the deck and landed on the ground below. I put one leg over the banister, then the second and looked down. I could not see the ground or Dan at all as it was too dark. I did notice that the roofline sloped downward at an angle (albeit steep) and actually touched the ground. I decided the slide down the roof tactic was my best get away plan. Edging myself over to the roof, I was very careful to not make a sound, as I didn't want to get caught. I got to the roof, sat down, and used my feet as a way of stopping myself from sliding. My feet however had had way too much vodka, and I slipped. I slid down the roof like I had covered myself in baby oil (which isn't that off as I had been wearing sun block all day). About 1/2 way down the roofline, I hit the nails. The nails sliced through my shorts, through my underwear, and unfortunately for me...through my ass.

The first thing I thought was that I was a bit cold back there. When I felt the split pants, I started saying..."Shit...Dan...I broke my ass...Oh my god...I broke my ass." He grabbed me and pulled me away before the cops could hear me whine. We circled around the house, and waited a bit before checking the driveway. No police car, so we went back to the house. My ass hurt and felt sticky from the blood. We entered the house and the party was going on as usual, except they now had a man in a Jock strap dancing in the living room. Dan got his friend and our housemate Thomas, who was a nurse to check me out. Thomas said I needed stitches and a tetanus shot, so they took me to the emergency room, where I had my 7 inch slice stitched up and a nice shot. By the time we got back to the house, the party was over.

The next day during brunch (nobody actually could get up for breakfast), the topic turned to my disappearing the night before. I found out that the police officer was a stripper hired to entertain the birthday boy. Mark Interrupted and said that he had heard I had a problem last night breaking my ass. Dan, Thomas, and I had told nobody. Unfortunately, I didn't realize that Mark had witnessed the whole incident. He was in bed with someone when they heard (wubba dubba wubba dubba whomp) Dan...I broke my ass! I had landed right outside their window as they happend to be right next to it. They said they had seen me limping away, grabbing my back side.

I keep this memory because it stops me from ever getting that drunk again...not to mention I have a great pick up line. "Wanna see my scar?"