My younger brother Monty received a very large stuffed Winnie the Pooh doll for Christmas the year that he turned 6.  Even in the seated position, Winnie stood about 4 feet high and took up the whole corner of the bedroom that Monty and I shared.  He was nearly as wide as he was tall and sat with his arms and legs open as if he were inviting a barrel of honey to be placed in front of him.  For many years, I walked past Winnie every morning on my way to the bathroom without giving him much thought, until somewhere around the age of 13 something changed between us.  It wasn’t long before Winnie and I began a torrid affair, meeting in secret three to four times a day.  This lasted for months until Monty walked in on us one day and exclaimed in horror, “What are you doing to my stuffed animal?”

Puberty was an awful time for me.  While most boys were reveling in each new pubic and underarm hair that popped out of their bodies, I viewed each one as an invading force that was slowly chipping away at my simple life.  The three inch hairs that grew out of my nipple, seemingly appearing out of nowhere, were the most disturbing.  I kept a pair of scissors in the bathroom and clipped them constantly, only to find that another one showed up almost immediately, with a buddy in tow.  I was embarrassed about how my body was changing, and didn’t speak to anyone about it, hoping that people wouldn’t notice.  To this day, I don’t know who taught me about shaving, wearing deodorant or any of the daily maintenance things that I needed to pay attention to now that I was becoming a man.  I’m assuming I learned everything from a teenage character on some 80s coming-of-age television show.

The constant erections were the worst.  During the late spring months as the weather in Bermuda started to get hotter, my brothers and I spent many nights sleeping on the floor of my mother’s bedroom since she was the only person in the house who had an air conditioning unit.  I slept on the far side of her bed against the wall on top of three flat cushions that were designed to attach to outdoor patio furniture.  Even though we went to bed at the same time, I stayed awake listening for the sounds of their breathing to change so that I could be sure they were asleep. And then I cheated on Winnie with the middle cushion, which had a conveniently located groove where the back part of the cushion met the seated part.  It was the only way to make the erection go away, albeit it temporarily.  Occasionally I would need a couple of sessions with my padded mistress to get the job done, and then another 10 to 20 minutes of working through the guilt I felt before I was able to go to sleep.

Each morning, my mother would heckle me to get up while she stayed in bed reading the paper.  I resisted as long as I could, not so much because I wanted to sleep longer, but because the erections in the morning were the most persistent.  No matter how long I stayed put waiting for my boner to go down, it just didn’t budge.  Most of my exits from the room were quick and furtive, with me hunched over, juggling my crotch area like I was a parade leader who had just dropped a baton.  I thought it looked as if I was just fidgeting and still half asleep.  It was only a few years later when I was reminiscing with my mother about our slumber parties that she got up and started walking through the living room doing an exact imitation of my morning routine.  “And you, juggling your goodies every morning, looking like a retarded circus clown,” she laughed remembering the image, “priceless!”

After Monty walked in on Winnie and me, our relationship ended abruptly and he was stashed in the bedroom closet.  To this day, there is no stuffed animal or Pooh reference that doesn’t spark a comment or send my brothers spiraling into howls of laughter.  “I’m thinking of getting Sloan a large Klondike bear for his birthday; do you think you’ll be able to control yourself around him when you visit?” my older brother will ask.  Or if he sees him on TV, Monty will say something like, “I saw your boyfriend is starring in a new cartoon.  Do you worry that his repressed memories might come back and one day and you’ll get hauled in on molestation charges?”  I laugh along with them now, but for many years it was the most mortifying thing that had ever happened to me.  Now, it’s just a fond memory of my first inanimate love, who still ranks as one of the best boyfriends I’ve ever had.