“You’re not a real man until you have sex,” she whispered.
(Caged: Memoirs of a Cage-Fighting Poet is available on Amazon)
I ran the steps back up to my room, floating like a butterfly and fully expecting my head to be stinging like a bee in the morning.
I woke to a pounding not in my head, but outside of my door. Only half awake, I couldn’t tell if it was my door or another one down the hall. “It’s me,” a voice murmured. “Can I come in?” It was my thirty-something friend. Prior to this trip to London I had told her the hotel name but nothing more. I glanced at the clock, 2:45 A.M. I got out of bed nervous and unsure what to do if I let her in and she tried to make a move on me. “I can’t find the key to my room,” she said. “Can I sleep with you, Cameron?”
My heart raced. I was wearing only my Altoona Wresting mesh shorts. I ran to the dresser and quickly grabbed the first shirt I felt in my hands, a white, wrinkled, long sleeved button-down dress shirt, so I didn’t give her any signals. I opened the door a crack and she opened it the rest and flung her arms around my neck. She pressed her hips into mine and wrapped her left leg up around my lower back. I could smell the alcohol on her breath mixing with the sweetness of her perfume. “I’m sorry,” she whispered softly into my ear. “I can’t find my room key. I hope that’s okay with you.” I felt her tongue caress my ear and then my neck and then…
…blood surged. I knew she wanted me, sober or not. My body wanted hers right then and there. I fought the urge, lifted her up onto my shoulder like a fireman’s carry, and she lightly ran her nails all over my back. I was crazed with lust. I delivered her gently to the bed and pulled myself out of her arms. I tenderly held her face in my hands.
“I don’t want to do this,” I said seriously. “I can’t do this right now.”
“Okay, I understand. I’m so sorry, Cameron.”
I turned away from her and felt her do the same. We slept butt-to-butt. I woke again an hour later to her warm breath against my neck and ear.
“Cameron,” she whispered, her lips touching my ear. “You’ve told me you’re a virgin and proud of it. But real men have had sex. You’re not a real man until you have sex. I want to be the one to make a man of you.”
Upset that I saw this coming and still allowed her to sleep beside me in a bed barely wide enough to fit one person, I replied quietly, “What the fuck do you know about real men? Who the fuck are you to tell me what a real man is?”
“Okay, okay, I’m sorry,” she said. “You’ll never know how good I can make you feel, the things I will do for you. Anything you want. You’ll always wonder. You’re right, though. And I’m sorry again. Goodnight, Cameron.”
I woke again less than an hour later to the warmth of her breath next to the head of my penis. The tremendous sensation controlled me. I enjoyed it. So much so that I did my best not to stir, to pretend I was sleeping. I felt her soft hands on me and then warm moisture as her lips and tongue and mouth took me in.
“What the hell are you doing?” I yelled, as I sat up a few seconds later.
“You deserve it, Cameron. Just enjoy something in your life God damnit. What the fuck is so wrong with enjoying me sucking your cock and being a man?”
“Get the fuck out my room,” I said. “I don’t want to talk to you the rest of this trip. I’m sorry I led you on. I’m sorry I let you in. I fucked up. But you know I didn’t want this. I’ve told you how many fucking times I’m not ready. It’s all about power to you, isn’t it? Power and control and using your age to get what you want. Find your motherfucking room key and get the fuck out. Get out!”
She scrambled for her purse and dug through it. Her credit cards, nickels, dimes, and driver’s license were scattered across the floor. “I can’t find the key,” she said with panic. I grabbed her purse and stuffed everything back into it. My breath quickened and my blood rushed, but this time it was out of absolute anger. I directed it at her even though it was mostly about myself. “A real man never would have turned that down,” she said. “Are you gay or something?”
“This is how a man acts,” I said, shoving her purse at her. Her room key fell out of her purse and I picked it up and put it in her hand. “This is how the fuck a man would act. You’re seeing it right now. You have no fucking idea what a man is.” I grabbed her by the shoulders and pushed her carefully out of the room and slammed the door shut. “Fucking A,” I whispered to myself. “Neither do I.”
million dollar question: How do you deal with the prospect of being considered “Gay” by the women you reject?
budmin, The next line is: “I spent the next hour or so in yoga poses while thinking….” I was aware enough at that point to know I wasn’t gay, but not confident enough to understand why I wasn’t like the other dudes who may not have even questioned engaging in that experience…who may have even bragged about it the following morning. At this time, I was deeply confused as to why I was different than the “script” that Danny mentioned. I felt bound to, pressured by, tied-up in this script. Time and reflection and writing (including of this book) helped… Read more »
I had this very same experience with a lover who wouldn’t take a no and started going for my zipper. I ripped her a new one for that. Asking her if she realized how f*&cked up it was that she thought she could do that…. and what her reaction would’ve been if I had done that to her. Her reply was… “I thought men were suppose to want it all the time.” (facepalm)
Krishnabrodhi, Thanks for sharing your story! You got me thinking how powerful (even criminal) a situation like this could become if the roles were reversed. We enter relationships at various points in our maturity – mental, emotional, physical…but the one left out, the one seemingly already written in society for men, is often the sexual. Someone recently wrote something like, “Why would I want to read a book by an MMA fighter turned ‘poet’ who desperately wants to avoid sex?” I think the direction of our culture (with the help of social media and of the news) is to take… Read more »
I’m not normally one for memoirs (or anything that isn’t fantasy or historical), but this excerpt has left me wanting more. I’ll definitely be picking this up!
Cam,
Thanks for the props here. As soon as the book goes on sale I’ll check back in and post the link.
Best thoughts from Bangkok,
~Cameron
“Cameron,” she whispered, her lips touching my ear. “You’ve told me you’re a virgin and proud of it. But real men have had sex. You’re not a real man until you have sex. I want to be the one to make a man of you.” As if being a man and virgin are mutually exclusive. That’s how the script of being a man addresses sex (for guys viginity is a curse that must be dispelled as soon as possible in order to assert one’s manliness) for you. As for distribution of the upcoming book will it be available in ebook… Read more »
Danny, I totally agree about the “script” you speak of and this idea of a “script” is actually a large reason I decided to get on board with the Good Men Project’s mission. There’s a chapter about my experiences acting in the book and I sort of hint at this very concept. There’s a scene where us actors-in-training had to totally let loose – to try to strip whatever societal constraints we we’re feeling. Here’s one quote in the book that grew from my reflecting on this experience: “The more inhuman we became the more we understood each other as… Read more »
The honesty and sheer nakedness of this excerpt makes me look forward to this even more than I was already. Thanks to you and GMP for sharing it…
Jack, thank you.
I think you’ll find the book honest throughout, particularly as it relates to family dynamics. There are heartfelt moments with my father, with my stepfather, with my grandmother, etc. The book contains far more than what those who judge it by its title or by an excerpt think. 🙂
~Cameron
I will respond here to questions about the book – from craft and societal elements to the lawsuit threats and drama surrounding its publication.
~Cameron