twenty-something

While out celebrating my birthday with a few friends at Boston Beer Works, my phone buzzes in my pocket, signaling the arrival of a new email. Surprisingly, its not another birthday wish posted to my Facebook wall, but rather a message sent via match.com (my year-long subscription to which expires July 2nd). It's always with both excitement and dread that I face down a note from match, a sick sort of glee upon finding something in my Inbox which--if I buy into the hype--could contain first contact with my soulmate, but--if I listen to my experience--really will be from another "good on paper" guy that won't lead anywhere.

I'm a bit startled to find that it's neither. The message begins, "I'm not sure if you remember me, but I'm the guy that met you when you were still in high school in Rutland!! ;)"

Indeed, I remember him. Scott. I met this now 36-year-old gentleman some eleven years earlier, when I was just 16. He's eight years older than me now, so that made him 24 back then. He was my first real, consentual sexual experience with another man-well, as concentual as you get when you're talking about fooling around with a high schooler.

I'm the guy that met you when you were still in high school in Rutland