Time Warp: My Hookup Turns Into a Good Old-Fashioned West Hollywood Trick

In the 1960s and 1970s, when gay men were overcoming years of oppression, they often tricked -- like today's hooking up, but quicker and far more dangerous: you invited the guy home with no preliminary questions, no exchange of phone numbers, no introducing him to your friends, no precautions of any sort.

 It was risky -- you could get robbed or assaulted -- but gay men of that era believed that they were a band of brothers, so no one you invited home could possibly have ill intent.

Tricking fell out of favor during the AIDS crisis of the 1980s, replaced by dating and sharing your friend's boyfriends, and then, in the 2000s, by hooking up, with lots of screening questions and precautionary measures.  No one tricks anymore.

Except last Sunday night, I did.

May 2016

I am traveling back from a trip Upstate to visit Troy and company.

May 26th: Cleveland.  The Flex Club is amazing.  Usually at a bathhouse, you have to work hard to meet two or three guys, but today I meet as many guys as I want.  I am rejected by no one, not even the attitude-studded muscle queens.

May 27th-28th: Indianapolis.  After visiting my parents and sister, I reunite with Ryan, the IUPUI art major who Troy and I met last summer.  We go out to the 501 Eagle, where I am cruised by everyone in sight, from twinks to leathermen to daddies.

"You're really on a roll," Ryan says.  "What's your secret?"

I shrug.  "Well, I get cruised by twinks all the time.  The older guys, I don't know  -- maybe New Kid in Town syndrome?"

May 29th: Rock Island.  My hometown, although I don't have many friends left here.  After a Memorial Day picnic with my brother's family,  I go back to my hotel and get on Grindr.

The twinks all have strict age restrictions:
"No one over 30"
"18 to 25 only"
"Be about my age, please"

Ok, I'm 55 years old, but....I'm a twink magnet.

The older guys:
"Be under 30."
"Prefer young guys."
"You should be 18 but look younger."

Is anybody hooking up in this town?

Age requirement be damned, I start a conversation with a student from Augustana College, my alma mater, an Asian guy majoring in neuroscience.

But when we go from "how much it has changed" to "hookup," he starts with the "cool...cool...cool" responses that mean "Get lost."

But...I'm on a roll...

I change my profile photo from my face to my chest, and send random "hi!" messages to five guys who are reasonably cute and nearby.

Nothing.  Crickets.

Frustrated and angry, I abandon Grindr and put an ad on Craiglist, the bargain basement of hookups.

Within five minutes, I get a response:

"I'm Nick, 26, smooth swimmer's build, hung, DDF, usually a bottom but willing to top."

He sends three photos: face, full body, and penis.  Twink, slim, smooth, weird frizzled hair, three diamond earrings, soul patch, very feminine-looking, not at all my usual type.

With no further preliminaries, I tell him: "Sure, come on over."

We meet in the hotel lobby.  Nick is easy to spot in his gay-pride t-shirt and short white pants with an extra big bulge

He looks completely out of place, like he time warped directly from the Rage in West Hollywood in 1986.  He should be dancing to "Like a Virgin," gossipping about who is taking who to the AIDS Benefit, and giving me major Attitude.

We chat.  Nick just broke up with his boyfriend.  They were together for three years, and Nick still loves the guy, but he doesn't want to do anything but play video games all day.  He doesn't do any housework.  He won't get a job.  And every time they have an argument, he runs back to his Mommy and Daddy.  He's 21 years old, time for him to grow up!

Time warp! I had conversations like this all the time in the 1980s.

We go up to my room, sit on the bed, and kiss and fondle.  He becomes aroused instantly, stands, and drops his pants.  A long, thin penis sticks straight out.  I go down on him, while he murmurs "Do me...do me..."  Then he goes down on me until I finish.

Just the sort of things we did in West Hollywood in the 1980s.

Nick reaches down to his pants on the floor and pulls out a condom.   I refuse anal.  So he does interfemoral while we kiss -- he's very into kissing.

He finishes with a high-pitched shriek that must have aroused the neighbors.

Afterwards we cuddle for a bit, and Nick complains about his ex-boyfriend some more. Then he gets up and throws his clothes on, while I watch carefully to make sure my wallet and cell phone don't vanish.

He says "Thanks, bye" and leaves.  We don't exchange phone numbers.

I sit on the bed, amazed.  This wasn't a hookup, it was a  good old-fashioned 1980s West Hollywood trick.

Except in Rock Island, on Memorial Day 2016.

I wouldn't believe it myself, but I have the photos.

May 30th:

 I check Grindr on my cell phone. Last night after Nick left and I went to bed, the five guys I said "hi" to all responded.