A lot of my friends who don’t live near their parents and only see them once every year or so tell me that whenever you go back for a visit, you tend to fall back into whatever role you played when you lived with them in your teens. Having not been back for a visit in the last seven years and never staying for more than a day or two on the handful of visits I made in the six years prior to that, I was curious to see what role I would slip back into.
It took me just a few nights to realize what that role would be for me.
All throughout high school I had to sneak out anytime I wanted to meet up with a guy to fuck. So many nights I would slip out, go do my thing, and then sneak back in before anyone in the house woke up to notice I wasn’t there. With so much practice, I got really good at it.
Of course, I haven’t had to sneak out of the house in 13 years, so I was just a tad bit rusty.
I logged onto Grindr to check out the local sampling of dudes, and pretty quick had a few people biting. The problem was that I couldn’t host since I was staying with my mom, and for a variety of reasons most of the guys I was chatting with couldn’t host either—despite the fact that they were an age where I thought they shouldn’t really have an issue.
Finally I found a hot guy who could host, but the problem was that he wasn’t really a bottom.
“I’ve always wanted to try it,” he said, “and you should help me out.”
This obviously set off my alarm system, and I politely explained to the guy that I preferred not to mess around with inexperienced guys. I always take it easy until the guy or girl loosens up when it comes to anal, but once we reach that point, I like to get into it. With inexperienced guys, you rarely reach that point, and it generally turns out to be much more of a hassle than I care to deal with.
“I get that,” he said, “but I really want to do this. I know I can do this.”
Alright, I thought, against my better judgment, he’s my age and old enough to know what he wants to try, so I guess I can make an exception.
I should have stuck to my guns because it turned out to be a waste of time—especially in light of the whole sneaking out and my lack of practice.
I waited until everyone had either gone to bed or was busy in some part of the house that wasn’t in sight of the front door. When I was sure no one was looking, I quickly slipped out the door and silently closed it behind me, stealthily making my way through the front yard to make my way to the rendezvous point with the guy, who was kind enough to pick me up since I didn’t have any wheels.
We got to his place and it was a fiasco. The guy gave it his best, but after some time I through in the towel—no matter how gentle I was, he just couldn’t handle bottoming.
At 2am I got dressed and told the guy I would just walk the few miles back to my mom’s place. I figured it was as good a way as any to expend the energy I thought I would have used to shag. I took off, walking down once familiar streets, and suddenly it hit me: I hadn’t brought any keys with me.
Knowing that I would probably not be able to sneak back in, I used my time on the walk to think of a cover story. I hoped that maybe the back door would be unlocked, but I figured it wouldn’t hurt to be prepared.
Eventually I strolled up to the house and checked the front door—locked. I made my way around to the back door and found it locked as well. Cursing to myself, I quickly thought about what to do next. I could have just gone into the cottage in the backyard, but first I had one last thing to try.
One of my brothers slept downstairs, so I went around to the side of the house and knocked on his window. No response. I called his name quietly a few times, and then laughed silently at myself; the one brother who slept downstairs was also partially deaf and not very likely to hear me knocking or calling him.
And then the light went on in the bathroom next to his room. I froze. The little siblings – nine and seven years old – had a room on the other side of the bathroom and their light had been on when I had slipped by, so I desperately hoped that it was one of them going to the bathroom and not my step dad. I knew it wasn’t my mom because she was out at her office, but I knew if my step dad got me I would have to explain the story to her for sure.
I practically held my breath while I waited for the bathroom light to get turned off. Once it did, I trained in vain to get my brother’s attention one last time, and finally decided to just sleep on the floor of the empty cottage. Making my way back along the side of the house to the backyard, I was resigning myself to my fate when the lights started to go on in the house. As the lights progressed toward the backdoor, I hoped against hope that it was one of the two brothers in their twenties and not my step dad.
And then my step dad’s face appeared in the window.
Fucking amateur night chez omni’s mom, I’ll tell you, with me playing the star amateur. He let me in, and I was ready.
“I wasn’t tired since I’m still jetlagged,” I began once he let me in, “so I decided to go for a walk until I got tired. I saw Denny’s and decided to stop in for some pancakes since I hadn’t been there in years, and then I kept walking. At some point I saw a street that I vaguely remembered taking to get to a girl friend’s house, and I thought it might be fun to try to find her place just to see if I could still find my way around. But I forgot how confusing some of these little neighborhoods can be, and I totally got lost.”
At this point I was getting into the story, and my step dad was chucking, knowing what came next. The whole time I kept thinking to myself how ridiculous it was that I had to sneak out at 30, and almost burst out laughing when I realized that I had found the role I was destined to repeat, just like my friends had foretold.
“I mean, why do the streets need to curve like that? How are you supposed to get out of there?!? Eventually I found my way back to a street that I thought I knew, and then got turned around for a second again, but then I found a main street and knew I just had to walk straight down to find a more familiar street to lead me back here. And the whole time I kept thinking to myself, ‘I don’t even have a key, crap’.”
At this point I recounted my attempts to get back into the house, happy that I could switch back to the truth. He laughed, and I made my way upstairs to my room to get some sleep.
The next morning I woke up and found my mom in the living room reading. Not sure whether or not my step dad had already told her the story, I came in and said, “Mom, if you have an extra set of keys, I think I would benefit from having them while I’m here.” And then I told her the story, my step dad sitting on the opposite couch smiling. And I once again almost laughed out loud when I realized I had found another part of my high school role unfolding before my eyes: the need to tell my mom some story, to use my charm to make her laugh, innocently getting her to look one way to keep her from catching on to what I was really doing.
The next time I had to sneak out, I made sure to take a set of keys.