This one time, when I was in high school, one of my best friends was (and still is) Kyle. Kyle is gay. I pierced both of his ears with an ear-piercing kit sold at Walgreens.  He was so anxious to get his ears pierced that I did it in the parking lot of Walgreens in my dad’s Dodge Neon.  His ear piercings turned out awesome, if I do say so myself. And I do say so myself.

Another time, I bought Kyle some gay porn. He was 17; I was 18. I went to a porn store in downtown Waukesha, Wisconsin.  I selected a basic man-on-man porn magazine for him.  I held it with the cover facing my body, hoping that the other patrons of the “porn store” wouldn’t see what I was holding. But after some weird looks, I realized the cover of the magazine featured basic gay stuffs, but the back was a man receiving a facial cum shot from another man.  I was MORTIFIED. A few other people made eye contact and sniggered.

I purchased the magazine and delivered it to Kyle in my car. Never again did I agree to buy him porn.