Dating the High School Bodybuilder

Wilton Manors, January 2005

I was always mature for my age, so I attracted guys a few years older than me.  So it came as quite a shock when I hit 40, and things were reversed. The guys staring at me, approaching me at parties, and asking me out were younger.  10, 15, 20, even 25 years younger!

(All models are over 18.)

In 2005, when I was going to Barney's Gym in Florida, three boys from Cardinal Gibbons High School came in almost every afternoon to work out.  Two were just fooling around, but the third, Stanton, short and sandy-haired, was serious about weight training and nutrition.  He was developing quite a muscular physique, nearly ready for amateur competitions.

And he was obviously gay, staring at biceps and baskets.

And apparently into me, following me around, asking questions, trying to maneuver to see me naked in the shower.

I did the same things in high school!

I decided that I was going to mentor this kid, make sure he didn't have the same trouble I had:  assumed heterosexual, not aware that gay people exist.

But this was 2005, in a gay neighborhood.  Things had changed!

One day in late January, he approached me when I was alone in the locker room. "That guy you always work out with -- is he your boyfriend?"

WTF?  "Um..um...you mean Yuri?  We're just friends.  I don't have a boyfriend.'

"Me, neither."  He grinned.  "You into younger guys?"

"Are you kidding? I've been out since before you were born.  What are you, about sixteen?"

"Hey, I'm eighteen!" Stanton exclaimed, offended.  "And I can prove it.  Wanna see my id?"

I checked.  Eighteen years and two months.  "But...shouldn't you be cruising guys your own age?"

"What's cruising mean?"

At that moment, someone else came into the locker room, and Stanton quickly moved away.

The next day Stanton approached me again.  "My basketball team is playing against Dillard on Saturday.  It's the semi-quarterfinal.  Do you want to come?  And we could go for pizza afterwards."

"Will you be bringing a girl?" I asked.

"What?  No!  Why would I bring a girl?"

"Just joking," I said, smiling as I recalled how Verne and I went on basketball-and-pizza dates in high school, only we had to bring girls along as a screen.  "Anyway, I can't go -- previous engagement.  But thanks for the offer."

Next he invited me to see Lemony Snicket's Series of Unfortunate Events, the movie based on the series of children's books.

I declined, mostly because I was worried that everyone in the theater would think we were father and son.

Later I told Barney and Yuri about my teen admirer.  "Why don't you just date him?" Barney asked. "He's of legal age, and he's cute, so what's the problem?"

"The problem is, he was born 2 years after I moved to West Hollywood! His first childhood crush was Richard Lane Jackson on Saved by the Bell: The New Class!"

"So what?  When Christopher Isherwood met Don Bachardy, he was 48, and Bachardy was 18.  It was a match made in heaven!"

A few days later, Stanton invited me to Sebastian Street, the gay beach in Fort Lauderdale, where we could swim, sunbathe, and ogle cute guys all afternoon.  I agreed, but insisted on bringing Barney and Yuri along. Stanton countered by bringing his two high school buddies, Ronnie and Keaton.

In addition to discussions of the measurements of passersby and the actors they would like to "get with," they talked incessantly of Green Day.  When I put on a tape of Olivia Newton-John singing "Let's Get Physical," they cupped their ears and pretended to gag.

Afterwards, Stanton suggested that the three of them come back to our house to "party," but I refused.  I permitted a good-night kiss in the car, though.

Next Stanton invited me to a bodybuilding competition at Florida International University in Miami.  I said ok, but insisted on double-dating with Barney and his boyfriend.

And another good-night kiss in the car.

"Don't go bragging to all your friends about how you scored," I joked.

"Huh?"

He didn't get the term score, or the reference to second season of The Simpsons.


We dated a few more times -- yes, he eventually made it into my bedroom -- but it was obvious that the relationship wasn't going anywhere.  For one thing, Stanton was entering his prime partying years, and I was perfectly happy staying home on Saturday night.

For another, he would be going off to college soon, and I was sending out applications in the hope of getting a job in Europe.

For another, Green Day.

So I called it quits.

When I told Barney, he immediately asked if it was ok for him to ask Stanton out.  The age difference didn't bother him a bit.

See also: Liam's 18th Birthday Present and Hooking up with the Hitchhiker.

Shawn's Three Way with his Best Friend and His Uncle

London, June 2015

Yuri has broken up with Michael, and is no longer living in Soho, the West Hollywood of London.  Instead, he's in Vauxhall, the South of Market of London, a funky neighborhood of leather bars, tattoo parlors, and dive restaurants.  Fun.

Tonight he invites a bear couple in their 50s and two single guys in their 20s over for dinner, conversation, entertainment, and, hopefully sharing.  The conversation begins with tales of gigantic penises and celebrity hookups (Prince Harry appears  in both categories).

Then, oddly, Yuri suggests coming out stories.

In West Hollywood, every new person you met told you his coming out story, how he had overcome the deadly silence of his childhood, finding evidence that "it is not raining upstairs" as everyone around him proclaimed, loudly, that everyone on Earth was heterosexual.  The stories were all similar, yet we never grew tired of them; it was a way of bonding, of discovering that we were not alone in the world.

But nowadays gay people don't grow up in utter silence anymore. They know at age five; they tell their parents at age eight; they join their elementary school Gay-Straight Alliance at age ten.  There's no coming out; there was never an "in."

Yuri's suggestion of coming out stories must be for the benefit of the young guys, I conclude, to give them a sense of history.  So I tell about going to see the movie Grease in the summer of 1978: "We stop the fight right now, we got to be who we are."

One of the bears tells about finding a stash of straight porn magazines, around 1975, and zeroing in on the men.

The other bear tells about listening to David Cassidy sing "I Think I Love You" on The Partridge Family in 1971.

We're about to move on to other topics, when Shawn, age 28, says "I can top that.  I had no idea until I was gay until just after my seventeenth birthday, when I had a three-way with my best mate and my uncle."

Dundee, Scotland, Spring 2004

Carmostie, a far suburb of Dundee, Scotland, is the world's most boring burg.  It's all about golf -- three golf courses, the British Open, shops like The Tee Caddy, fat, ugly golf enthusiasts wandering around taking pictures.  Dull!   When I was a kid, all there was to do was hang around in the House Grounds, or, if we had the money, stop into Goodfellow and Steven for an ice cream.

I knew what gay people were -- swishy, fruity things, like Jack on Will and Grace.  But there weren't any in Carmostie, or in all of Scotland, as far as I could tell. Certainly not me -- I didn't swish!  I was straight, just too mature to take part in the juvenile dating-and-breaking up fest that was my high school.

My best friend Brian, a cute Paki with a round face, black hair, and swimmer's build, was too mature for the dating game, too.  I never suspected that he might be gay, even though we always rated guys on their butts and baskets.  After all, he was deeply into football.  How could a fan of Dundee United ever be...gay?

One day just past my seventeenth birthday, Brian invited me to go to a movie in Dundee, about ten miles away.  Funny, I didn't ask him what was playing.

But he didn't take me to the Odeon.  We went to a flat in a rather funky neighborhood about two blocks from the statue of Desperate Dan in the City Centre.

He knocked, and to my surprise, my Uncle Jack answered.

Uncle Jack was my dad's younger brother, a black sheep who had all sorts of "quare" friends and did vaguely disreputable things that my parents never talked about.

Even though he lived only a half hour drive away, I had never been to his flat, and he rarely came to Carmostie.  Last time we saw him was at a Christmas party, five months ago.

Uncle Jack answered the door wearing only a towel.  I noticed for the first time his hard hairy chest, his nipple ring, his thick biceps,,,.

"Oh, sorry, mates, you're early," he exclaimed.  "Come in, come in, just let me finish getting dressed.  There's sandwiches and sodas in the fridge, if you're feeling peckish."

We grabbed some sandwiches and sat down on the couch, beside a picture of a semi-nude man in a foundry.  On the coffee table there was a book on male nudes.  Brian began to leaf through it.

"Where's the ladies?" I asked.

"Who needs ladies when you can have him?"

Were you starting to get it? I asked.

Shaun grins sheepishly.  "I feel like a complete idiot now, but no.  Brian didn't swish, so he couldn't possibly be gay, right?"

"How do you know my Uncle Jack?"

"We met at the Christmas party last year -- you remember," Jack said.  "And we've kept in email contact, and sometimes I come up here for dinner."

"Why would you want to be friends with my uncle?  He's ten years older than us, isn't he?"  Which I thought of as middle aged, at the time.

"Are you kidding?  Look at him!  He's brilliant!"

A moment later, Uncle Jack appeared wearing short pants and a tank top.  I'd never seen him like that before.  I had to admit that he was hot.

 "Are you coming to the movies with us?" I asked.

He frowned.  "Well, mate. this isn't really about the movies.  It's what might call an intervention.  Brian and I have been discussing you, quite a lot, really, and we think you have a problem.  We're here to get you sorted out."

My face burned.  "I don't use drugs!" I protested.

"Not that kind of problem.  Here, let's have a hug, then."

I dutifully stood and put my arms around Uncle Jack.  He hugged me tightly, not like an uncle.  I felt his hard chest, his abs, his basket against mine.

He tried to let go, but I hugged him harder.  I could feel my penis springing to life.

"Hey, let me in on that, too," Brian said.  He pushed his way into our hug, his hand on my butt.

Suddenly Uncle Jack and Brian were kissing.  It didn't seem weird.  It was the most natural thing in the world.

Brian moved in to kiss and fondle me.  Uncle Jack pulled my Bratwurst+ out of my pants, stroked it, then fell to his knees and went down on me.  My first time.

Brian took me by the hand and led me to the bedroom.  I was still fully aroused when he pushed me onto the bed into the interfemoral position.

Uncle Jack lay on the bed, too, his enormous Kielbasa standing straight up.  He fed it into me while Brian worked.

Afterwards Brian and I lay cuddling as Uncle Jack got dressed.  "Well, I was just expecting a heart-to-heart talk, but that turned out well," he said.  "I'll get us some tea and biscuts."

London, June 2015

"Did you and Brian date after that?" one of the bears asks.

"No, it was just that one time.  Uncle Jack and Brian were actually dating, and they decided that it was high time I came out."  He smiles.  "The sharing wasn't part of the plan, but I'm glad it happened."

"You're right," I say.  "That beats my Grease story by a mile."

See also: I Lost It at the Movies; Yuri and I Meet the Emo Boy of London

The Weirdest Place to Pick Up a Twink

Upstate, June 2011

There's a moderately invasive medical procedure recommended for everyone over 50, to make sure everything in your colon is copacetic.  I turned 50 last November, so I'm up.

The preliminaries are rough:

3-4 days before, no whole wheat or fiber, and nothing red.

The day before, clear liquids only.  A lot of green jello, lemonade, and beef broth.

The night before, drink 2 liters of an awful-tasting liquid.  I cut it with a lot of lemonade mix.

Five hours before, drink 2 more liters.

Nothing to eat or drink two hours before.

After all that, who's in the mood to get cruised?  No matter how cute the guy is.

9:30 am.  

I'm in the small, cramped waiting room of the endoscopy clinic.

It's packed -- everybody wants to get the procdure done as early in the morning as possible, and you're not allowed to drive afterwards, so most patients have drivers with them.

You can instantly tell the difference: the patients tend to be elderly, dazed from hunger, and apprehensive, while the drivers tend to be young, bored, and knee-deep in their laptops and ipads.



As I'm sitting there, too tired to read the book I brought, an elderly woman and her driver come in.  She goes to the reception desk to fill out paperwork, and the driver glances around the room.

College age, very fair skin, dark blond hair, blue eyes, a little swishy.  Wearing a pink hoodie.  Carrying a laptop.

Our eyes meet.

He stares for a moment, open-mouthed, as if he has come face-to-face with the Man of His Dreams.  He smiles, looks away, and then smiles again.

I'm a little annoyed.  The boy is extraordinarily cute, but like most gay men over 40, I get cruised by teenagers and twinks all the time.  He can take a number.  And who cruises in a doctor's office waiting room?  Your target is nervous, not feeling well, and probably contagious.

Especially this waiting room, cramped, crowded with elderly people waiting for an invasive medical procedure?  When your target is loopy from 30 hours without solid food, tired from no sleep the night before, apprehensive, cranky, and miserable?

Maybe the boy is just overwhelmed by my superhuman gorgeousness, I think.  After he gets an eyeful, he'll leave me alone.

Nope.  He leaves Mom or Grandma sitting at the receptionist
desk, plops down next to me, and boots up his laptop.

He glances over at me, desperate to say something but too shy.

I decide to take pity on him.  "Are you here with your mother?" I ask.

He grins with palpable relief, and begins to talk very quickly and nervously.  "I'm driving my Grandma.  I'm the grandson without a job, so I was drafted.  Not that I'm a bum or anything, I'm in college, but I don't have any classes today.  My next class is tomorrow afternoon, Calculus.  It's pretty hard.  I thought I wanted to be a physics major, but now I think maybe...."

To shut him up, I smile and hold out my hand.  "I'm Boomer."

"I'm Kal, with a K, even though it's short for Calvin, with a C."  His hand is soft, and I think manicured.  "Boomer, wow!  I bet there's a story behind that name!"

"There is, but this isn't the right place to tell it."

"Right, right, I gotcha," Kal says, nudging me.  Then, expectantly: "Grandma says she wants to go to the Chinese Buffet afterwards and eat from one end to the other."

Ok, this is going to be a pickup, whether I want it to be or not.  "I might head over there myself.  You know, you can't have anything red for four days, so the General Tso chicken was out."


"Oh, I love General Tso chicken!  You know the best place in town to get it..."

Before he can tell me where, my name is called.  .

"Well, nice chatting with you," I say.

"You, too, Boomer.  Maybe I'll see you at the Chinese Buffet later."

11:30 am

I doubt it.  My appointment is before Kal's Grandma, and I ask for minimal sedation, so I can stay alert and watch the procedure on the little tv.  So my recovery time is short.  At 11:30, I'm on my way out, and no doubt Kal is still sitting in the waiting room.

I tell Troy about being cruised by Kal.

"I swear, you can be picked up anywhere!" he exclaims.  "I'm surprised that the doctor didn't slip you his phone number!  So, do you really want to go to the Chinese Buffet?"

"The nurse said have a light meal -- pancakes, eggs, something like that. But..."

"But...."  Troy grins.  "We're going to the Chinese Buffet, aren't we?"

I shrug.  "Well, it is only three blocks away."

It's not very crowded at 11:30 am on a Wednesday.  Troy and I pay, fill our plates with chicken and vegetables, and sit at one of the little booths near the entrance.

Sure enough, the moment we sit down, Kal comes in, pays, and makes a beeline to our booth.  He squeezes in next to me.

Hi!  I thought you'd be here!"

"You talked me into it.  Where's Grandma?"

"Oh, she's still at the hospital.  They said I could go, and they would call me on my cell phone when she's ready to be picked up."  He pauses.  "So is this your boyfriend?"

"How did you know?"  Troy asks.

Kal laughs.  "I didn't, for sure, but I was pretty sure.  You could be his son or his boyfriend.  I hoped you were his boyfriend, because that would mean Boomer was into younger guys."  He squeezes my knee under the table.  "Hey, I'm going to go get some food.  Stick around, ok?"

8:00 pm

Kal has a slim, smooth body, with nicely toned abs and an outtie belly button.  Average sized penis, but ready instantly, and able to finish three times in close succession, twice with me going down on him, once with Troy.

He won't let me do interfemoral, or to straddle and enter him, my two favorite positions.  He ignores Troy. He goes down on me, but I'm still  tired from the procedure, so I don't finish.

On a normal day, this would be an inadequate hookup experience.  But remember where I was just a few hours ago.

See also: The Trophy Boy at the Orthopedic Clinic; A Hookup with Two Brothers at the Dentist's Office