Growth III
On being different, growing from silly decisions during sexual encounters, and confronting demons.
When Barack Obama won the presidency, I was beginning high school. I morphed into an entirely new young man between primary school and that moment. My mom probably noticed when I stopped bringing butterflies home and when I stopped asking her to buy me new nature magazines.
Politics & Pop Stars
I remember thinking those hobbies weren’t cool anymore because my friends had new interests. This new thing called the internet showed me the world in ways pre-programmed cable television couldn’t.
My transformation happened during the transition from elementary school to middle school. At some point, I shoved my childhood interests and adolescent urges into a closet and tried to learn about the new world I was entering.
Uncharted territory. 2008-2012 was the period when I broke out of my shell and began to understand the many ways injustice and apathy play together. As a side note, I’d just like to point out that President Barack Obama and Lady Gaga rose to fame around the same time. Gaga’s bold statements and political rallies likely added pressure surrounding the possible repeal of the U.S. Armed Forces’ Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell policy.
I watched this unfold in high school (and eventually in a journalism class), and it inspired me to continue writing. I miss my friends from high school and college. And I miss my military family.
The Buried Scandal
When I was a junior Marine, one of my friends asked me a question with people from our unit nearby. “Xavier never has any drama or scandals on base. Why don’t we hear anything about you?”
I responded, “I don’t fuck anyone on base.” I added that I wasn’t dating any Marines in our unit. And while that was mostly true, it wasn’t the full story.
There was a night I stayed with two Marines at a beach house in North Carolina over a weekend. A man and a woman. It wasn’t the original plan, but they stopped by my hotel room, both drunk, and persuaded me to come with them to the club.
It was the weekend. They persuaded me to pack all of my bags to spend the night with them. I was probably a little tipsy, but they were chill friends, and they kept repeating, “We really want you to come with us.”
I shared the same living quarters with the man and more than two dozen other men. And the woman lived right across the hall from me. While grabbing my stuff, the guy kept winking at me.
We took a taxi to their room. The whole time, I kept thinking, “I should leave.” They said we were going to the club, but the address they gave to the driver would take us to a residential area. They were so drunk I decided to stick it out and—I guess chaperone to make sure they didn’t die.
After spending one night with the drunk horny couple (not really a couple), I left embarrassed, feeling ashamed, and morally bankrupt. The following morning, we all stopped speaking.
We weren’t friends anymore.
I went back to work and tried to keep things professional. After a few public tiffs and uncomfortable run-ins with the woman (who hated me), I pulled her aside somewhere quiet and asked to talk.
I told her we could hate each other and never speak again. Bringing the weekend was stupid; at least, that’s what I thought. I was in my early 20s and sort of mature but in the most chaotic and unstable way.
On those steps, hiding from our fellow Marines, I poured my heart out to her and apologized for what I put her through over the weekend. I apologized to her because I sucked his dick, and she woke up and saw me under the covers. I think his moans interrupted her sleep.
After I apologized, she asked me why I did it.
I told her, the night they asked me to come with them I couldn’t understand why they wanted to hang out.
I asked if she knew he kept winking at me before we left my hotel room. She said no. Being young isn’t an excuse for the decisions I made that weekend.
Acceptance, Even When the Truth is Ugly
Now I realize why I did it, and I don’t think I told her. Maybe I was okay being the villain.
We never went to the club, liars!
The three of us cuddled at a beach house with only one bed. (it gave threesome vibes)
They fucked in the bed with me laying right there as I tried to sleep in the dark room… wtf!?
I could’ve stayed in my hotel room and avoided the awkwardness but my boundaries sucked back then.
I could’ve stayed in my hotel room and gotten fucked!
I apologized because I was genuiently sorry.
But in the moment, I didn’t care about anyone’s feelings because they didn’t care about mine.
Accepting my role and acknowledging my dark side has helped me grow. Years after that ordeal, I realized I don’t even like sucking dicks and the likely-hood of something like that ever happening again fell to zero percent.