Thursday, August 27, 2015

My Top Black Boyfriends and Hookups

I am particularly attracted to guys with darker skin, black, Asian, Hispanic, Mediterranean.

The myth of the extra-large beneath-the-belt gifts has nothing to do with it.

But I do seem to encounter extra large black guys rather often.

Here are my most memorable black boyfriends and hookups.  Let's check on their size.

1. Tyrone, my weight-training partner, who I may or may not have done something with in a car in the Rocky High parking lot. Bratwurst.

2. Julian, the radio station manager at Augustana who was self-conscious about his size.  Bratwurst.

3. Raymond, the Texas hookup who kept saying "if you relax, it won't hurt." Mortadella.

4. Sayid, his friend, who kept turning over on his stomach and saying "Take me! Take me!"  Bratwurst.

5. T, the Thug on my Sausage List, who Alan and I picked up at Jewel's Catch One.  Mortadella+

6. Mario, the feminine guy who changed his sheets every day.  Kielbasa.

7. The first guy that Yuri and I shared, in New York.  He just wanted to kiss.  Average.

8. Blake the Opera Buff , who I dated for a few months before switching to his roommate. Mortadella+

9. Jerry the !Kung, the Bushman I met in South Africa. Small.  But I don't know if Bushmen count as black or not.

10. Sibu, the Hottest Guy in the World, the seminary student I met in South Africa.  I saw him in the dark room of the bar, but he wouldn't invite me up to his place.  Bratwurst.

11. The custodian I hooked up with in France.  Kielbasa.

12. Jerome, the Biggest Guy on My Sausage List, who I met in Boston at a job interview.  Later we visited his uncle in Delaware.  Kovbasa+

13. Tye, the Florida guy I shared with Yuri. Average

14. Azi, the Dutch Afro-Caribbean guy at the Horseman's Club in Amsterdam.  Kovbasa.  But I only actually dated his brother Eli.  Bratwurst.

15. Keaton, the 18-year old friend of the High School Bodybuilder. Bratwurst+.

16. Leronne, the guy I shared with my boyfriend Charlie in Dayton, another guy who was self-conscious about his size.  Average.

17. Justin, who Yuri and his boyfriend hooked me up with in London. Bratwurst.

18, The Rapper in Upstate New York.  Bratwurst.

19. Malik, the small guy whose enormous dog broke the leash and bit me.   Bratwurst.

20. Deonte, the regular at our M4M Parties who insists on wearing a condom for oral.  Mortadella.

So, in my sample of 20 black guys from 3 continents, 25% are small or average, 40% big, and 35% enormous.

Of course, the sample might be skewed.  Maybe I don't remember the smaller guys, or my memory is making them bigger.

Or  it's mostly the bigger guys who are self-confident enough to approach me.

Or, when you date a black guy, you can expect beneath-the-belt gifts.  No problem, as long as that's not the only reason you're interested.

See also; My Sausage List.

Monday, August 24, 2015

Is Professor Singer Gay?

Bloomington, March 1984

In my second year at Indiana University (1983-84), I had to choose two historical eras for my Comprehensive Exams.  I decided on the Romantic Era (1770-1830), mostly because of the homoromantic exuberance of the Frankenstein monsters, vampires, and dying poets, and the Restoration-Augustan Era (1660-1770), mostly because of Dr. Singer (not his real name).

He was a new professor of Restoration Literature, a Wunderkind with a Ph.D. from Johns Hopkins and a book coming out, though he was only 26 years old (I was 22).  Tall, thick hair, broad shoulders, nice biceps, a smooth muscular chest peeking up through the casually-unbuttoned top buttons of his shirt.  He used his hands a lot while lecturing, said "apposite" more in one class session than most people in a lifetime, and criticized; my; use; of; semicolons.

Both Viju and I got major gaydar from Dr. Singer; flamboyant, precise, and not averse to gay content, such as Lord Rochester's "Love a Woman? You're an Ass!", about how gay sex is better than hetero sex.  When we got to John Milton: he showed us an illustration from William Blake's allegorical biography, and quipped: "I'll bet you didn't know that Milton looked like that!"

We had two goals during the semester.  First, to determine if Dr. Singer was gay.

Viju's strategy: He got some confederates, male and female, to invite Dr. Singer out for "a beer" after our Tuesday-night seminar, and checked to see whether he spent more time gazing at men or women.  My boyfriend Jimmy, the Bodybuilder on Crutches, tagged along.

Dr. Singer deliberately made eye contact with each student in turn, and didn't gaze at anyone else.

My strategy: I wrote a paper on the gay subtexts in Paradise Lost: naked Satan, etc.  I got a B (a failing grade in grad school, where everyone gets an A on everything).

Ok, so the "gay" test was inconclusive.  Our next goal: to determine if Dr. Singer was available. We waited until the spring semester, when I was single again after dating Jimmy the bodybuilder on crutches.

Viju's strategy: He went to Dr. Singer's office in Ballantine Hall and said he was having a crisis.  He was attracted to guys!  Did that make him gay?  But his parents back in India would be scandalized -- they would cut off their support, and he would have to drop out of college!  His career plans would be ruined!  He began to cry.  Dr. Singer offered him hand-on-shoulder sympathy, but didn't reveal anything (a student used the same tactic on me in Texas a year later).

My strategy: I found out that Dr. Singer went to the campus gym to lift weights every morning at 7:00 am.  I went in and timed my workout so we would end up in the shower together.  I complemented him on his physique.

"You really know how to work on those abs," I said.  "Maybe we could work out together sometime?"

"'m sort of busy."

"Well, it doesn't have to be at the gym," I said, soaping myself suggestively.  "I've had some of my best workouts at home."

That did the trick.

Moral: When all else fails, try nudity.

See also: Dr. Kirtis Serves Me His Bratwurst.


Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...