December 20, 2017 Journal Entry
When I was 23, I worked a summer at Glacier National Park in Montana. I managed the gift shop in the cafeteria. I worked for a 21-year-old who managed the camp store across the way. It was his second year at Glacier. He was very accomplished, intelligent, he ran the store exceptionally well and I thought he was cute. We had a bit of chemistry, but I didn’t give it much thought.
Groups of us went to St. Mary just down the road to drink in the evenings. One night, he walked me to the dorm and made a pass at me, kissed me. I let myself like him, even though he was younger. Two years means a lot at the age of 23. I remember I had braces. It was weird kissing with braces.
Since he was a manager, he had his own cabin. Things progressed. Like in college, I had my little paper lunch sack full of foam and condoms. I’d knock on his cabin door and he’d let me in.
The first time, I asked if he was a virgin. He said no. When he entered me, he came in just a few seconds. I asked him if he was indeed a virgin and he admitted yes. He was embarrassed for coming so quickly, but I reassured him and told him to stay inside and he would get hard again in just a couple minutes. Ah, youth. That is what happened and it lasted longer the second time.
Over the next couple of weeks, we had sex four or five times. Then a new gal came to camp. She wasn’t prettier or nicer or anything like that. He just liked her better. They became an item. I became friends with both of them. I’m still in touch with her on Facebook. Years after the Glacier experience she married the man of her dreams. He passed unexpectedly a couple of years ago. She is a good woman, a kind woman, a grieving woman.
I found our mutual object of infatuation on Facebook. He’s married with children. I messaged him and he did not respond. I hope he is well and happy. He was a good man.