Yesterday, I wrote about catalogs, department store underwear sections, and the advertisements that gave many of us our earliest glimpses of the male body before the internet existed. Judging by the comments, I wasn’t the only one who remembers those innocent little moments that weren’t quite so innocent.
As I was thinking about yesterday’s post, my mind started wandering a little farther down memory lane. Those catalogs and advertisements certainly caught my attention, but they weren’t the only things that occupied the imagination of a very horny teenage boy. Looking back, I can remember a few guys who found their way into my fantasies, but there was one in particular who seemed to appear again and again. He dominated my teenage imagination in a way no one else ever did.
But those memories are about more than teenage hormones. They’re also about a young man trying to understand feelings he didn’t yet have the language to describe. I knew I was different long before I admitted it to myself, and those fantasies were part of how I slowly came to recognize what my heart had been trying to tell me all along. Looking back now, I can smile at that confused, curious teenager who was simply trying to make sense of desires that felt both exciting and frightening.
I think that’s a post of its own.
Not because it’s some dramatic story, but because it’s one of those memories that deserves a little reflection. So many of us who grew up before the internet pieced together our understanding of attraction from fleeting glimpses, innocent crushes, and private fantasies that we never dared tell another soul. Looking back now, those memories are amusing, a little embarrassing, and, perhaps most of all, an important part of discovering who we were.
Unfortunately, this morning isn’t the best time to take that stroll down memory lane. I woke up with a bit of a headache. Thankfully, it doesn’t seem to be anything serious—certainly not serious enough to call in sick—but it’s enough that I’m moving a little slower than usual. Coffee is doing its best to help.
So, I’ll save those memories for another morning when I can do them justice. After all, some walks down memory lane are worth taking slowly.
I hope everyone has a wonderful Thursday.
The Closet Professor 
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