Well Bob Had His First REAL Gay Experience

Ah, Bob, dear sweet Bob. Your email was a lot to unpack, much like, I imagine, your first real gay experience — messy, confusing, and probably requiring a deep breath or two.

So, you went and did it. Dropped to your knees like you were praying at the altar of indecision, and what did you find? Regret? Satisfaction? That awkward taste you still can’t quite explain? Maybe all three. Maybe none. Who knows? You’re on this journey now, and apparently, you took a detour down the ‘bad boy’ highway without a map or a seatbelt.

But let’s talk about what’s really going on here, Bob. You say it felt wrong, bad, that something catastrophic was bound to happen. I get it. It’s like waiting for karma to hit you with a giant cosmic pie in the face. But newsflash: you’re not going to hell because you went down on Chad or whoever was lucky enough to be your sexual awakening with a side of shame. If anything, you just learned that guilt comes with a… salty aftertaste, right?

You called yourself a bad boy, as if that label gives you permission to revel in some deliciously forbidden act. Let me tell you, Bob — being a ‘bad boy’ isn’t about what goes in your mouth or your ass. It’s about owning what you like, even if it makes you squirm more than that first awkward thrust. Yeah, you felt wrong, dirty, and maybe like a guest star on your own episode of “Bad Decisions and Consequences.”

Here’s the thing, though: you’re fine. No lightning bolts. No divine smiting. Just a new layer of experience added to the already questionable cake of life you’ve been baking. So go ahead, sit with that. And next time you’re thinking about whether you’re a bad boy, maybe focus on what you really are — a guy who’s figuring out what he likes and doesn’t like. It’s not deep. It’s just life, Bob.

You’re going to be okay. Now go hydrate. Something tells me you’ll need it.

Doc