He Was My First, Too
Essay
He Was My First, Too
I breathed a sigh of relief as I pulled into the only available spot behind the nondescript building where a therapist I’ll call Michael has his office. DC’s terrible traffic, along with the frustrating search for a parking spot, had frayed my already keyed up nervous system. A quick look in the rearview mirror told me nothing I didn’t already know. My short hair, dark on top, silver on the sides, was as neatly styled as ever. The sagging under my eyes, unfortunate evidence of my age, was almost concealed in the lift of my bright and hopeful smile. I was feeling the invisibility of age, aware that my previously reliable sexual currency had begun to lose its value.