Sunday, March 6, 2016

Topped by a Vietnamese Twink in St. Peter

March 2014, St. Peter, Minnesota

I'm at a conference at Gustavus Adolphus College, a small Swedish Lutheran college in a small town on the Minnesota River.

 It's fun being immersed in my Lutheran roots.  Old Main looks almost like the Old Main back at Augustana, my alma mater.  The chapel is a vast, airy expanse with impressionistic stained glass windows.  The campus bookstore stocks The Presocratic Philosophers and Bainton's life of Martin Luther, just as Augustana did.

 I didn't come here to seek out beefcake, but it keeps finding me.

Even though it's March and quite chilly, there are two shirtless college boys, hard-bodied, Scandinavian pale, walking across the quad (not naked).

And a tanned, very buffed jock in a muscle shirt lounging in the campus library.

The weight room in the campus gym have vast windows that look out onto a basketball court, where a shirts vs. skins game is in progress.


Plus beefcake sculptures everywhere on campus, like this naked man -- yes, that's his penis -- on the facade of the science building.  I guess he's inventing something.

Or several beefcake sculptures by alumnus Grant Granlud: Jacob wrestling an angel, a luna moth with a buffed masculine form inside, and the naked man and woman bouncing a baby in the air (below).

I heard that the Hillstrom Museum of Art has some Grant Woods in its permanent collection, so I drop in.  It's actually just one big room, empty except for the college boy volunteer sitting at a table reading a book on French impressionists: slim, thick dark hair, red t-shirt and short pants.

Asian, probably Vietnamese!   I am surprised to see him.  There aren't very many Asians on the Plains, and even fewer, I assume, who want to go to a Swedish Lutheran college in a small town in the middle of nowhere.

"Hi, I hear you have some Grant Woods."

He looks up and smiles.  "That exhibit was last year, sorry.  But maybe we have some old brochures you can see."  He jumps up, rushes to a cabinet, and starts sorting through the books and papers.

It takes a long time.  Now he's bending over, his butt in the air.  Very erotic.

"Hey, that's above and beyond the call of duty.  Who are you exhibiting today?"

He stands, faces me with that unmistakable eye-widening.  Flustered -- maybe I'm standing too close.  Or else he's suddenly "on," having to give a spiel on a minor artist.

"B. J. O. Norfeldt, a Swedish-American artist who painted landscapes, mostly watercolors.  Come on, I'll show you.  My name is Hue."  He touches my arm to turn me around.

"Like the city in Vietnam."

"Oh, you've studied Vietnam?"

"Um..yes."  I didn't want to tell him that I grew up during the Vietnam War, and heard about cities there on a daily basis.

"My parents are from Da Nang.  They came over after the war.  I've never been there -- I'm a Minnesota boy, all 'you betcha' and 'hot dish.'  But I'd like to go someday."

Standing too close, touching, giving me his name, telling me his life story.  Is this guy interested, or am I misinterpreting signals?  Hopefully interested -- I haven't been with an Asian guy since I got to the Plains.

Norfeldt has several nude men, plus a watercolor of two women on the beach called "The Ladies of Provincetown."

"Provincetown was a gay capital," I tell Hue.  "I imagine the ladies were lesbians."

He grins.  "I don't know...I never heard that.  Shall I tell the next guest?'

"Depends.  How liberal are they at Gustavus?"

"Pretty liberal.  I've never heard anything homophobic."  Did he just come out to me?

"Are you an art major?"

"Yes, art history.  I want to be a museum curator."

"That explains it.  I'm in criminology.  Lots of homophobes."

"Yeah, but I bet the guys are hot.  I have a friend who wants to be a FBI profiler.  I bet he works out as much as you do..."

Ok, this guy is definitely cruising me.  I almost forget myself and grab and kiss him on the spot.

"Have you seen the Arts Center downtown?  I get off at 5:00.  I could give you a tour.  And afterwards, I know a nice Mexican place for dinner.  I could invite my friend, the one who wants to be a profiler.  You have a lot in common, I bet."

Picked up by an Asian guy in a Swedish Lutheran college in Minnesota!

I don't really want to hang out with Hue's friends -- when you go out with twinks, it's best to keep it one-on-one, to avoid being left out during discussions of Angry Birds and Adele's latest hit.  But if it will seal the deal, ok.

The Arts Center is a two-story space that displays local artists.  Today there are three cows eating red capsules, three naked children painted white, black, and gold, some photographs of the Minnesota River, and some bunnies with blue paws staring at butterflies.

Afterwards we walk two blocks down to a Mexican restaurant called El Agave.  I expect Hue's friends to be Swedish Lutheran twinks, but instead they are:

1. Nguyen, the one who wants to be a profiler.  Vietnames-Chinese, taller than me, and buffed.  He must have 16 inch biceps. Wild erotic energy. I'd actually rather be with him than the slim, soft Hue.  Maybe we'll be sharing.

2. Hue's cousin, a petite Vietnamese co-ed named Lila, who is majoring in psychology.

I'm confused.  Are Nguyen and Lila straight?  Is this a double date?  

I can't tell by the interactions.  Both Nguyen and Lila ask me a lot of questions about criminology, and don't seem particularly interested in art.  Or in each other.

 I play it cool in case Hue is closeted -- I don't mention my gay themed research and don't touch Hue, so there's no physical contact except a couple of times when Nguyen accidentally brushes his knee against mine under the table.

Maybe they're all straight, and I've misinterpreted everything.


When the server asks how many checks, Nguyen says he'll pay for everyone.

We all stand.  I look at Hue expectantly.

"I have an interesting book on Vietnamese martial arts," Nguyen says.  "Back at my apartment.  Maybe you would like to see it?"

"Um..sure. But I came with Hue, so..."

"Oh, that's ok," Hue says.  "You guys go on.  Boomer, can you call me, so I have your number?"

Confused, I say goodbye, watch Hue and Lila leave, and let Nguyen lead me down the dark, silent streets of Saint Peter, Minnesota.

"Hue..." I begin.

"Cute, huh?  I'd date him in a second, even with all that boring art talk.  Too bad he likes girls.  Well, his loss."

Ok, so Hue is straight, and set me up with Nguyen.  He asked for my phone number as a hookup precaution.

He wraps a hard arm around my waist. I shrug him off. "Can you do that in Saint Peter?"


"You think anybody's going to try anything with me? My hands are registered as deadly weapons with the FBI.  My penis, too."  He reaches out and fondles my butt.  "I like to be dominant, if that's ok with you."

The moment we get inside his apartment, Nguyen barks "On your knees, boy!"

It is odd, and strangely erotic, to be called "boy" by someone thirty years younger than me.  I obey, and go down on his thick uncut bratwurst.  We move into the bedroom for 69, and then he tops me in legs-in-the-air position (with a condom of course).

In the morning, we have breakfast, exchange phone numbers, and I drive back to the Plains.

Later that day I get a text: "Nice meeting you last night.  I'm coming to Plains soon.  We should get together."

It's from Hue.

I'm still confused.

See also: Picked up by the Museum Guard.

1 comment:

  1. I never actually got together with Hue. I suspect he was bi, dating men and women both.

    ReplyDelete