Sunday, August 30, 2015

Lane and I Hookup with Waiter in a Mexican Restaurant

West Hollywood, April 1993.

When I lived in West Hollywood, our go-to restaurant was the French Quarter.  Saturday morning breakfast, brunch after church, first dates, last dates, browsing the gift shops, watching out for the stray celebrity or gay royalty.  But we did go to other places: the Greenery, the Cafe d"Etoille, Hamburger Hamlet, Pink's Hot Dogs, Mrs. Field's Cookies, Thai Thai, the Hunan Kitchen, the Abbey, and sometimes places outside of West Hollywood altogether.

But when you left West Hollywood, you had to be careful.  Restaurant patrons and staff could be bitingly homophobic.  Stares and laughter at the least, maybe derisive comments.  You could be kicked out, or assaulted in the parking lot.  If it didn't have a reputation for being gay-friendly, you stayed away.

But one night in 1993, Lane and I went to a movie at the Cinerama Dome, the giant "shower cap" on Sunset, and  on the way home, about 8 blocks from the border of West Hollywood, we saw a Mexican restaurant called La Azteca  (Now it seems to be called La Numero Uno).

There were no Mexican restaurants in West Hollywood at that time, so we decided to stop.  A change of pace from the French Quarter.  What's the worst that could happen?

1. A dining area packed exclusively with pairs of men and women.  No same-sex couples anywhere.  It seemed outlandish and bizarre after years in West Hollywood.

2. The hostess asked "How many in your party?" and her neck to look for the women we were meeting.

3. She took us to a table for four, and didn't remove the other two place settings, apparently not believing that there were no women on the way.

4. Heads turned to stare, gossip began to be whispered.  What was up with these two guys dining together on a Saturday night?  Could they be brothers?  College roommates?  A celebrity and his bodyguard?

5. A woman sitting at the bar smiled at me with unmistakable intent.  Did heterosexuals cruise each other?

We buried our noses in the menus.

The waiter approached -- he was young, in his 20s, short, solid, light-skinned, with a black buzz cut. His name tag said "Mauricio. Mexico City."

 "Have you guys been here before?" he asked.

Finally, a nonchalant heterosexual!  Attentive, too, bringing us water and chip refills several times.  He even flirted, putting his hand on Lane's shoulder to point out the desserts.

Did waiters in heterosexual restaurants flirt for tips?

He asked "one check or two?", so he didn't realize that we were a couple.  We concluded that he was just being friendly as part of his jobs.

The next day I got up early so I could work out before church, and there, amid the power-lifting semi-celebrities was our waiter, Mauricio!

We spotted each other and chatted, exchanging the four main pieces of information you got from a new acquaintance:
1. Where are you from? 

Macon, Georgia, but "Mexico City" looked better on his name tag.  Anyway, his parents were from Mexico.

2. How long have you been in L.A.?

3 months.  He lived with his cousin on Poinsettia Boulevard in Hollywood.

3. Are you out at work and to your family?
Not at work.  Yes to his family, but "we don't talk about it."

4. What is your career goal?
To become an actor.

The preliminaries over, Mauricio asked "That guy you were with last night -- was that your lover?"

I nodded.  "Lane. We've been together for three years."

"Wow, congratulations! You got a good thing going on -- he's so hot!  I love big bears!  Is he a top or a bottom -- please say bottom."

Yes, we did have conversations like that with near-strangers in West Hollywood in 1993.

I was so used to being cruised all the time that I was a little put-off.  But I figured, fixing him up with my lover would be almost as good as dating him myself.  "We have an open relationship," I continued.  "If you want, I can give you our phone number."


"Wow, that'd be great!  Thanks!"

Dating when you were in a relationship was almost identical to dating while single.  You called, made the date for four or five days in the future, then went out for dinner, a movie, a concert, or cruising.  The only difference was, when you got home, your lover was waiting, to either watch the bedroom activities, or preferably join in.

So the next Friday night, I waited while Lane and Mauricio went out to dinner at the French Quarter, followed by cruising at the Faultline.  They came in at a little after 11:00, groping and kissing each other, and stumbled into the bedroom.  I followed.

And watched.

Mauricio had a smooth,solid body and an impressive Bratwurst+ beneath the belt, but whenever I tried to pay attention to him, he became embarrassingly unaroused.  A brief kiss, a desultory grope, and I was relegated to watching while he and Lane kissed, groped, fondled, and tried various positions for oral and anal.

Two hours later, they were still at it, and I was resisting the urge to turn on the tv.

I did get a little hugging when we all fell asleep in each other's arms, but the next morning it was Lane and Mauricio again, followed by breakfast.

After he left, I exclaimed, "What was that about?  You ignored me all night, and then again this morning!"

He smiled.  "Sorry -- it's just first date syndrome, you know, when you can't get enough of the guy.  We'll pay more attention to you on our second date, I promise."

The second date was two nights later.  Mauricio came over to dinner with a couple of our friends, and we rented a movie.

This time Lane and Mauricio went into the bedroom alone, while the rest of us stayed in the living room.  Eventually the others left, and I joined them.

I got a little action, mostly from Lane, but I still felt like turning on the tv, and letting them go at it.

When you're in a relationship, the third date is just as critical as when you are single.  Afterwards, you are officially together, a three-way romance.

Three-way romances were quite common in West Hollywood.  Who invented the heterosexist myth that you could only love one guy at a time?

Often the third liked one or the other more, so it was really more like a guy with two lovers. But never was the third simply left out of the equation.

I made sure there was no third date with Mauricio.

See also: A Hookup with the Waiter at a Christian Pizza Restaurant; The Silverlake Stud

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