By the time he hit puberty, Matt thought he knew everything there was to know about sex and attraction. He was certain that he knew more than most kids his own age, because his heightened senses allowed him a lot of access to the adult world including aspects of it that he didn't want to know about but couldn't ignore. He had heard and smelled a variety of sexual experiences happening around him, from loving consent to violent assault, from the basic to the disturbingly strange. So when other kids talked on the playground or told exaggerated stories to one another about what they had or hadn't done, Matt just laughed quietly to himself, able to recognize their immaturity and ignorance.
But just because Matt knew about sex didn't mean he understood it. He had the what, when, how and with whom, but he still couldn't quite wrap his mind around the why.
Oh, he masturbated. The bodily changes that accompany puberty were all there, and so he experimented. He knew that it felt good. But the interest in having sex with someone else, in dating or girls, just wasn't there yet. All around him, he could sense the boys his age experiencing the telltale signs or attraction and arousal, but personally he felt as though he were missing something. It was as though a key piece of the puzzle hadn't slotted into place yet.
Sometimes he suspected that it might be because he was gay. He certainly knew more about homosexuality than the nuns at St. Agnes could ever have dreamed of. So he would reach out with his senses and try to detect if he felt differently towards the other boys than the girls. He would lie back and try to become aroused in his bed at night, try to see if he pictured anything one way or the other that made a difference. But he wasn't sure. He didn't really feel attracted to anyone in particular.
He'd confessed his confusion to the priest once, but it had only served to scandalize the man. The priest wasn't able to provide any meaningful insight and had instead made Matt feel like the worst kind of sinner. "You are blessed to not have such sinful thoughts, Matthew," the priest had said. "Others should be so lucky."
One day he accidentally stumbled across a group of boys huddled together in the stairwell at school protecting something, secretive and ashamed. He realized that they had found a dirty magazine and were passing it around, excited to be looking at pictures of naked women. Listening to the boys describe the curve of the women's breasts, the depth of her tan and the length of her legs, Matt realized that maybe he had discovered the root of his problem. Maybe he couldn't get aroused or experience attraction because he couldn't see. Was that it? Was it entirely based on looks?
So he focused on his studies and his training instead, resolved to a life of quiet solitude. He tried to ignore the overheard conversations in which other boys his age bonded by ranking the girls they knew by attractiveness or telling dirty jokes. And when the calls of "Virgin!" followed him down the halls at school, he just kept walking. But it hurt. It made him feel like something was very wrong with him.
Years passed like this. Then, one warm spring day when he was sixteen, everything changed. That was the day Alice Davis kissed him.
It all happened very suddenly. He was sitting outside during lunch with his books spread out on a picnic table, running his fingers across the raised text of the pages while eating a sandwich, when she slid onto the bench next to him. He had anticipated her coming. She wore thick orthopedic shoes that made a distinctive sound when she walked, and she smelled of a cinnamon flavoured lip balm and apple shampoo. When she sat down, Matt didn't expect that she was there for him. People often joined him at the table at lunch, even if they didn't know him. It surprised him when she scooted herself over to sit very close to him, their thighs touching.
"Hey Matt," she said in a perky tone.
"Hey, Alice," Matt replied. "Did you want something?"
She giggled, a high pitched giggle which Matt knew was meant to be flirty and which had never been directed at him before. "Just this," she said, and before he had time to even register what she had said her lips were on his with a force that nearly pushed him backwards off of the bench.
The taste of the lip balm was the thing he immediately noticed, spicy and warm against his mouth. She opened her mouth slightly and he breathed in the taste of her lunch, a peanut butter and banana sandwich, but also the soda she had been drinking. But underneath that, there was something that he hadn't expected and that he didn't know how to categorize. Without thinking, he leaned into the kiss and brought a hand up to tangle itself in her hair, stroking the side of her face and then tangling a fist into the long braid that hung down her neck. He pushed his tongue into her mouth and let the taste of her overwhelm him, hormones and perfume and metal braces and toothpaste, a distinctive and vibrant interplay of sensations that deprived him of the ability to track anything else going on around him. Then, like an out of body experience, he felt his fist leave her hair and his fingertips dance down her neck before finally reaching her chest to cup her breast.
He was so wrapped up in the sensations that the hard smack that followed was unexpected and painful. It sent him flying off the bench and onto his tailbone on the grass, where he sat with is glasses askew and his cheek red and stinging as she backed away angrily. "Matt Murdock, you creep! I only wanted a kiss! What kind of girl do you think I am?" She stormed off into a nearby crowd of girls who all clucked their sympathies to her and expressed disgust under their breaths at what he'd done. Matt just sat there, completely stunned but also very aware of the fact that he was painfully aroused. Worse, the incident had drawn a crowd of onlookers who were now laughing at him. It took him a few minutes to finally compose himself before he was able to finish his lunch and pack up his books. He was late to class.
It was awkward around Alice after that. So awkward that he never got the chance to ask her why she kissed him. He wondered sometimes if it was a dare, or if she was genuinely interested in him. Later, when he thought about it, he regretted never getting to apologize for what he did. But mostly he just wanted to thank her. Because from that point on, like a switch had been flipped, Matt couldn't stop thinking about girls. He was normal, and he wasn't alone. And that was a new feeling for him.
