Saturday, November 28, 2015

Julian: When a Bratwurst Isn't Big Enough

Rock Island, March 1982

When I was a senior at Augustana, a freshman named Julian joined the radio station crew.  Bruce, by then the general manager, planned to assign him a job as news stringer, someone who picked up and adapted news stories from the wire.  But Julian's father, a VIP in Chicago politics, called his old friend President Treadway, and guess who became music director?

Suddenly 50% of our programming was classical music.

Julian was brash, sarcastic, elitist, demanding, and entitled.  But he immediately piqued my interest:

1. He was into classical music.

2. He was black  There were very few black guys at Augustana.

3. He was chubby.  There were even fewer chubby black guys.  The 1980s fashion was svelte.

4. And he was flamboyantly feminine, what we called a flamer back then. Obviously gay, though of course none of the straight guys at Augustana noticed.

I hadn't met any gay students at Augustana, just some guys who would accept a same-sex hookup as a last resort, if there were no girls around.  So I was determined to get into Julian's life, as a boyfriend, a hookup, a friend, something.



Unfortunately Julian didn't like me.  Not at all.

No matter how nice I was, he remained condescending, rude, arrogant, and abrasive.  When I asked him to get a slice of pizza at the Student Union, he gave me cool attitude and said "No, thanks awfully."

Offering to work the dead time of Saturday morning didn't impress him.

Befriending his friends didn't work.  He hung out exclusively with giggling co-eds.

How about introducing him to my friends?  One weekend I brought Brian over for a tour of the campus.  We toured the radio station while Julian was in the office.


He barely grunted.

Brian was very hot. Could Julian be straight?

I decided to throw caution to the wind.

You never came out in 1982 without extensive tests to see if the guy would attack, or tell the dean and expelled for being gay.

It was March of my senior year. To be expelled now would be devastating. But maybe I could come out without actually coming out.

So I waited again until Julian was alone in the office, sitting at his desk.  I dropped in on some pretense and said,  "So a lot of people think Brian and I are lovers, but of course that's ridiculous."


"Oh?"  I could hear Julian cogitating. Ridiculous because we're friends, or because I'm straight?

"Yeah, he's not my type at all."

More cogitating.  By talking about it so nonchalantly, I had proven myself ok about gay people.  And a life of constant pretense gets lonely.  I could tell the exact moment when Julian decided to make the leap.

"I don't know," he said, staring down at his desk.  "I thought he was quite attractive."

And just like that, he was out.

My turn!

"Not very big beneath the belt, but not everybody can have a baseball bat down there."   I made a show of trying to look down at Julian's basket.

And just like that, I was out.

That Friday night we had dinner at O'Melia's (now it's Jake O's), a fancy eatery on Black Hawk Road,.

"I'm sort of nervous," Julian told me.  "I've never been on a date with a guy before.  I was asked out a few times in high school, but I said no.  I was worried about the erotic activity afterwards."

"Why?" I asked.  "Afraid you would feel guilty afterwards?"

"It's not that.  Well -- you've seen me.  Imagine me naked."

"I've been doing that all semester," I said with a grin.

He looked down at his menu.  "You're just being nice, but you know I'm gigantic where I should be small, and teen-tiny where I should be big.  I'm like one of those mythological beasts."

What did I ahve to do to boost this guy's confidence?  I tried a dirty joke: "Oh, you mean a unicorn?  Can I see your horn?"



After dinner we went back to the dorm, where Julian's roommate was gone for the weekend.  We turned on his stereo -- Beethoven's Symphony #7 -- sat down on the bed, and started kissing and groping.

Soon I had a chance to examine his beneath-the-belt gifts in detail.  Bigger than most, at least a Bratwurst, maybe even a Bratwurst+.

This was what he was concerned about?  So concerned that he turned down dates in high school, and came to college with a cynical, abrasive shell?

We only dated that one time, but we stayed friends until I graduated and he went back to Chicago for the summer.

See also: My Top Black Boyfriends and Hookups; 13 Gay College Boys.

The Beach Boy and the Giant, Part 1

Wilton Manors
Saturday, September 21st, 2002

A Saturday morning during my second year in Florida.  We're all sitting at breakfast, when my housemate Barney abruptly announces that he plans to go to a bathhouse.

Yuri and I hide behind cereal boxes to hide our shock. Barney is a former bodybuilder who runs a mostly-gay gym.  He lives a scrupulously healthy lifestyle: low-fat diet, daily exercise, meditation, herbal supplements.  And, after he lost his partner to AIDS three years ago, no hookups.

He dates, of course, and occasionally he invites us into his bed to "share," but he would never dream of casual sex.

"Are you ok?" Yuri asks.  "I don't think you liked bathhouses."

"Well, I haven't been to one for ages.  But think about it -- I'm 61 years old, I have Cute Young Things clamoring to get into my bed all the time, but all the guys my age are taken or not interested.  I figure the bathhouse is my best place to find someone my age.

"You know it's mostly for anonymous sex, right?" I say, dubious.

"But you often make a date with the guy afterwards.  At least, you did in my day."

"Well...do you want us to go with you, show you the ropes?"

He chuckles and turns back to his egg white omelet.  "I was going to bathhouses while you were still in diapers.  I think I can handle myself."

We advise him that the bathhouse would have a lot of older guys in the mid-afternoon or early evening, so he goes about 5:00 pm, after pumping up at the gym.  I can't wait around to hear the details -- I have a date with a guy in Boca Raton.

Saturday evening

When I return from my date, Barney is already in bed.  I peer through the open bedroom door, curious.  Nope -- he's alone.




Sunday morning

"So, how did it go?" I ask over breakfast.

"Some sex, some prospects," he says with a sly grin.  "Nobody spectacular.  I'm going to try again this afternoon."

On Sunday afternoon, I have to work at the gym, and Yuri goes swimming with Wade the Beach Boy, my ex-boyfriend.

After we broke up, Wade and Yuri stayed friends, so he hangs around the house a lot, and sometimes spends the the night in Yuri's bed.

They never do anything together except for some incidental groping.  They simply aren't attracted to each other. They are both twinks -- 24 and 28 years old, respectively, smooth, pleasantly muscular but not bodybuilders and they both like 40+, super-muscular, with Mortadella+ beneath the belt.

Sunday evening

My shift ends, and I go home to find Yuri and Wade in the living room, watching Futurama and eating Chinese food.  I help myself to some kung pao chicken and join them to watch King of the Hill and The Simpsons.

Then Barney returns with the Jolly Green Giant: about 60, huge, at least 6'8" tall, with gigantic shoulders, a massive chest.

"This is Brent," Barney announces.  "He works at the Publix [supermarket] on Sunrise.  This is Yuri, Wade, and Boomer."

He shakes each of our hands.  His hands are huge, as big as typewriters.

"Where do you train?" Yuri asks politely.  Wade just stares as if he has never seen anyone so beautiful before.

"I don't train," the Giant says, his voice a deep basso profundo.  "I do some sit-ups and push-ups, but that's about it."

"It's all from moving boxes all day!" Barney exclaims.  "Can you believe it?  Brent is a natural!"

"Did you meet at the bathhouse?" I ask.

Barney grins.  "That would be telling."

They decide to watch Malcolm in the Middle with us.  Barney takes his favorite chair, and the Giant sits on the floor in front of the couch, leaning his arms against my lap and Wade's leg.

Wade starts to blush and grabs a pillow to cover his arousal.

Yuri notices, too.  "Will you spend the night?" he asks Wade with a grin.

Barney goes to the kitchen to get some of his famous low-fat rhubarb crisp for dessert.

Sunday night

Picture it: Barney and the Giant in their bedroom, with the door a crack open (Barney is a fresh air freak). The sounds of erotic activity drift across the hall to Yuri's bedroom, the door also a crack open.  Yuri is reading a book and Wade is lying in his underwear, thinking.

"I could just..."

Yuri cuts him off.  "You don't share on the first date. And they don't even ask you."

"But dude, he's so hot!  So tall -- I'll bet he's got a big one!"

"He is Barney's date.  You must keep your hands off."

Soon Yuri turns off the light and goes to sleep.  But Wade doesn't.  He lies awake, thinking.

After awhile he hears the door of Barney's room creak open, footsteps down the hall, and someone urinating.  He jumps out of bed, rushes to the bathroom, and flings open the door, planning to say "Oh, sorry, I didn't know...." and at least get a glimpse of the Giant's Mortadella+.

It's Barney.

The rest of the story is here.

See also: Wade the Beach Boy; Jack the Vacuum Cleaner.

Thursday, November 26, 2015

Arjun and the World's Strangest Pickup Line

Boca Raton, Florida, May 2003

Arjun was a student in my Sociology of Religion class in the spring of 2003, the semester after Tom the Young Republican: college age, South Asian, short, dark skinned, handsome, with a tight, solid physique.

He didn't talk very much in class, gave short, halting answers when called on, and turned in a series of nondescript, C-level essays.

Until we got to the lecture on New Age Religions.

Seems that he was devotee of the Urantia Book, written between 1925 and 1934 by seven spiritual beings, who  delivered it, page by page, over 2000 in all to Chicago physician William S. Sadler and his disciples. At first they wanted to keep the amazing revelations to themselves, but finally in 1955 they consented to publish it.

There are no churches, ministers, rituals, or dogmas of any kind.  People meet in small study groups.

In my brief research for my Sociology of Religion lecture, I didn't, see a lot of moral instruction or discussions of our ultimate purpose n the universe.  It's mostly a compendium, an Encyclopedia Galactica.

The government, politics, demographics, and economics of the hundreds of planets in our universe (and other universes), with the jobs and duties spelled out as precisely as any human resources handbook.




Gabriel is the Chief Executive of our universe, Nebadon.  Beneath him are the Supreme Council, the Council of Supreme Santion, and a number of High Commissioners, Celestial Commisioners, Most High Assistants, and so on.

Whoa.


Well, it goes on like that.  For volume after volume:

"Spiritual status is the measure of Deity attainment, Adjuster attunement. The achievement of finality of spirituality is equivalent to the attainment of the maximum of reality, the maximum of Godlikeness. Eternal life is the endless quest for infinite values."

Yeah, I don't get it either.

Of course, our job in Sociology of Religion is not to evaluate the worth or validity of a religion, but to look for the sociological factors in its membership.  Why do people follow it?  How do they practice it?  How does it fit into the rest of their lives?

Arjun knew: "I grew up Hindu," he told us.  "There's no evidence that the gods exist.  But the Urantia Book is scientific.  It's concrete.  It's about real life, not myths.  If you read it, you'll know."

You can't argue with someone about their beliefs in the classroom, so I let it slide and moved on to another New Age religion.


But after class Arjun approached me.  "Have you read it?"

"The whole thing?  Well, I do have to research more than 30 religions in this class..."

"I can show you the most important parts, that deal with the life of Jesus Christ."  He hesitated, and looked down at the floor.  "Are you free later?  We can get a cup of coffee, and talk about it...."

Every student who belongs to a proselytizing religion tries to convert me, and besides, I have a rule against socializing with my current students, so I politely refused.

A couple of weeks later, Arjun appeared at my desk after class again.  "Ron Tramontino, the head of our Urantia Study Group, is giving a talk on Saturday.  He's a great guy.  He runs a karate studio and writes books.  Maybe you would...."  he trailed off.

Was he still trying to convert me?  Regardless, I don't socialize with current students, so I said, "I'm busy Saturday, sorry.  Another time."

At another time, he brightened.  "When?"

"Um..well, after classes are over.  Next summer I'm free."

"Ok!!"

He finished the class, got a C, and vanished.  I didn't think anything more about it until a couple of weeks after finals, when I was busy prepping for my summer school class.  Arjun knocked on my office door.

I thought he wanted to petition for a higher grade, but instead he said, "Professor...er, now that classes are over, may I call you Boomer?"

"Sure, I guess."

"I know you like karate, so I got tickets to the AAU National Championships, at the Convention Center in Fort Lauderdale."  He paused.  "And afterwards I know a place that has Nepali food."

Finally it dawned on me -- Arjun was asking me for a date!

Well, he wasn't my student anymore, and he was cute, so why not?

I braced myself for more discussion of the Urantia Book, but instead Arjun talked about sports -- he was a devotee of judo, karate, and mallauddha, or Indian wrestling.  A little boring.  I actually tried to push the conversation back to the Urantia Book, or at least a New Age topic, but he didn't seem interested.

He was living with his conservative Hindu parents, who knew that he was gay but didn't approve, so we had to go back to my house to spend the night.

Nice physique, nicely shaped Bratwurst, a little reserved in bed.  He just lay there.  I had to do all the work.

We dated for a few weeks, mostly going to boring martial arts tournaments.  Arjun never wanted to talk about the Urantia Book again, no matter how often I brought it up.

Had he just been using it as a very weird cruising line?

See also: Cruised by a Young Republican.

Tuesday, November 24, 2015

Hayward Nelson Naked

Here's the only nude picture I could find of Hayward Nelson of What's Happening, from the movie Evilspeak (1981), apparently before he bulked up.

I once saw another one, a frontside with him covered in bubbles, but I can't find it now.














Here are some extras from the same scene.

The original post is on Boomer Beefcake and Bonding.




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