Friday, October 21, 2016

Yuri and the Sausage-Size Contest

Long Island, June 2009

In June 2009, Yuri flies back to the States for a two-week visit. He hasn't been back since he moved to London in 2005, although I went out to visit him two years ago.

I want to see Yuri again, of course, but I also want to see some of my old friends and go to some of my old haunts in New York. Even though Upstate is only five hours away, I haven't gone back.

We meet at JFK, and then drive to a townhouse on Powers Street in Williamsburg, Brooklyn, where we will stay with his ex-boyfriend Daniel, a history professor into Beat poetry and jazz.

Daniel is a buffed daddy in his 40s, balding, bearded, with thick hard muscles and a few piercings.

He has two roommates:

Brandon, a tall, slim twink with a round face, a bright smile, and olive skin, maybe Hispanic or Asian, a nurse at a hospital nearby.

Tighe (pronounced Teeg), a gym rat in his 30s, rather short with curly red hair and a short beard, who doesn't have a job but does all of the cooking and cleaning to cover his share of the rent.

   
On the first night, we're too tired from our trip to do anything more than go out to dinner, watch tv, and go to bed. We share with Daniel, but not much sharing goes on, just a little kissing and some oral without completion.

In the morning, Yuri and I take the subway into Manhattan to check out the Strand Bookstore, my old gym, Christopher Street, Central Park, and the Museum of Natural History. We return in time for some brief cruising at the Metropolitan before the dinner party.

Daniel and the two roommates are there, plus:

Liam, the boy who gave me a present on his 18th birthday back in 2000, still a cute blond twink, slim and a little swishy.

My friend Barry, the Colonial Williamsburg boy, in his 30s, with a slim compact frame and a square Eastern European face.

His boyfriend, another Daniel (sorry), in his 50s, short-haired, very buffed, with a hairy chest.

Dinner is a grilled eggplant salad, lamb curry, and a Mediterranean fruit soup, discussions of the new Star Trek movie, Ugly Betty, celebrity hookups, dates from hell, and bulge-watching.

"Bulges are nice," Yuri says. "But they lie.  Some big guys don't show, and some small guys look like they are showing.  You look at their hands and feet, talk to them, see their face."

"Face?" Barry repeats.  "What does that tell you?"

"Big guys have a look.  They are confident, fearless.  Small guys are shy.  They look down.  They are afraid.  That is how I always know if the guy is big or small."

"Then how do you end up on dates with small guys?" I ask. "Like the Unhung Hippie. Remember him?"

Yuri shrugs. "I always know if the guy is big or small, but sometimes the big ones aren't worthwhile.   In Russian we say luchsheye vrag khoroshego, if you look for the best, you miss out on the good."

"Well -- " Daniel begins, "If I'm counting right, there are five guys in the room that you haven't seen naked."

Yuri looks around.  "Right.  Just you and Boomer. I met Barry before, but we didn't share."
































"How about a little game?  You guess the sizes of the other five guys, through their pants, without feeling them or seeing them aroused."

"Hum!  Easy!  What do I get if I win?"

"Every guy you guess right has to buy you lunch or dinner while you're in town."

"And if I lose?"

"You have to go down on each guy you are mistaken about.  Two minutes, orgasm not necessary.  Ok, guys?"

They nod their assent.

"Easy!  No problem.  The only guy I go down on tonight is Boomer!" 

He asks them to stand in a row with their hands behind their backs.

Can you figure out their sizes without looking?

Yuri looks at them each, face and crotch, shakes their hands, smiles, asks them a few questions, while they all try to appear confident and fearless.  He writes his size estimate down in a notebook, quickly changes the centimeters to inches, and announces:

Daniel 2:  9"
Brandon:  7.5"
Liam: 8"
Tighe: 10"
Barry:  6"

Next it's time to measure.  Yuri asks them, one at a time, to take it out and bring it to full arousal, with a fluffer if necessary.   I'm ready with a tape measure.  






























Daniel 2: Wrong!  7"
Brandon: Wrong!  5"
Liam: Wrong! 6"
Tighe: Wrong!  7.5"
Barry: Wrong!  8"

"Oh, well.  I am having an off day," Yuri says with a shrug.  "Boomer, help me with these guys.  I cannot do them all myself."

I don't need to be asked twice.  I go down on Brandon and Liam, while Yuri works on Barry, Daniel 2, and then Tighe.

Before long Brandon, Liam, and I are off to one bedroom, Daniel, Daniel 2, and Barry to another, and Yuri and Tighe to a third.  But while Yuri and Tighe are kissing, I grab the notebook from his pocket.

He got every measurement right.

"Hey, you lost on purpose!"  I exclaim.

He shrugs, and his hand moves down to Tighe's crotch.  "Wouldn't you?"



Tuesday, October 18, 2016

Barry Hooks Up with Luke Perry

Sayville, Long Island, November 1999

Yuri and I are in Sayville, visiting my friend Barry, the Colonial Williamsburg boy who escaped from his conservative, homophobic roots through drinking, drugs, and anonymous hookups, but has now been transformed into a health-conscious gym rat who practices Zen Buddhism and goes to gay Catholic Masses.

We're watching Beverly Hills 90210, about the angst-ridden lives of Southern California glitz kids.  I've never seen it -- why should I watch a program about the glitz and glamour of a mythical Beverly Hills, when I lived a mile away from the real one?

But tonight, one of the four subplots is about gay bashing: Dylan (Luke Perry) and his friend Andrew (Rob Derringer) are assaulted outside a gay community center in West Hollywood. Andrew doesn't want to report the incident, because if he is outed, he will lose his job.

"California has job protections for gay people!" I complain.  "And who gets bashed in West Hollywood?  I lived there for ten years, from 1985 to 1995 -- it was a small town, quiet, peaceful, where you knew your neighbors and everybody helped each other."

"That's funny," Barry says.  "I moved to West Hollywood in 1995, just as you were leaving, but I didn't find a small town at all.  It was cold and hard.  Everybody wanted to use you.  I didn't know anybody, for real.  I did a lot of drugs, mostly Ecstasy and crystal.  I danced all night, and hooked up a lot, and hustled."

"Hustled?" Yuri asks.

"Prostitute," I explain.

"You were prostitute?"

"Rent boy," Barry corrects me.  "I had a high class clientele.  They picked me up in limousines, took me to the best restaurants, kept me overnight in the best hotels, brought in the best drugs, but then always sent me home alone."


Barry wants to talk about how empty his life was before his transformation, a standard "I was lost but now I'm found" motif, but Yuri will have none of it.  He's been out for less than two years, he's never been to West Hollywood, and he wants everything there to be bright and shining and joyous.  "That is very exciting.  Do you meet any famous people?"

"A couple.  Him, for instance."  He points to Dylan Walsh, played by Luke Perry.

"Yuck!" I say instinctively.  "That long face, receding hairline, squinty eyes.  I'd go with Jason Priestly.  Much cuter, and we know that he has a big one from that photo of him on a nude beach that's been making the rounds of the internet [left]."

"No, Dylan is cute," Yuri protests.  "And I think he has a big one."

"Mega-gigantic!" Barry says.



West Hollywood, July 1997

Barry was not in the best frame of mind -- not much sleep last night, nothing to eat all day but some stale donuts for breakfast and leftover macaroni and cheese for dinner, no Ecstasy to be had from any of his usual sources.  He had been dancing for six hours on nothing but adrenaline and beer, and an occasional mojito sent over by a Creepy Old Guy hoping to get into his pants.

But his rent was coming due, and nobody was getting into his pants tonight unless he had $50, some primo crystal, or a pornstar-sized penis.

He tried all of the gay dance clubs in West Hollywood, and then he went up the hill to Sunset Boulevard, where young, hip, homophobic straights hung out.  Straight clubs were iffy -- you got cruised by women, you couldn't dance with men -- but if you played your cards right, you could go home with some superstud actor wannabes whose girlfriends were "out of town."

Tonight he hit the jackpot -- he had only just walked into Whiskey a Go Go, when he saw Luke Perry!  Sitting in a booth with an entourage of men.

Troubled loner Dylan Walsh on Beverly Hills 90210.

The outsider who resonated with Barry's life, growing up gay in conservative Colonial Williamsburg.

The glamorous world of Beverly Hills, 90210, where the sun was always shining and the guys were always hot.  Friendship.  Freedom.  Community.

An icon of Barry's childhood.  He even had a Dylan Walsh doll (no penis -- he checked).

There was no question about it -- he was going to trick with Luke Perry!

He walked up, started a conversation, got offered a beer but no crystal.  The entourage moved away, as if they knew the routine, as if Luke had done this before.

After some cruising, he followed Luke to the Parc Suites off La Cienega, and waited in the car while Luke paid for a room.

They kissed in the elevator -- a soft, warm "first date" kiss, not the aggressive, tongue-swallowing kiss of a trick.

Inside the hotel, they collapsed onto the bed, kissing and fondling. Luke's Mortadella+ became instantly aroused.  But Barry didn't.

"We don't have to do anything right away," Luke said with a frown.  "We can just cuddle."

"No, I'm into it.  I just need a few minutes.  I've never been with such a big star before -- or such a big penis -- I've got stage fright."

Luke didn't have stage fright -- he took off his pants and underwear and lay down on the bed with his legs spread.  Barry went down on him while Luke stroked his hair.

When he finished, Barry went to the bathroom to rinse out his mouth, and then returned to bed.  "Could we just cuddle now?"  he asked.  "I'm really tired."

"Sure, whatever you want."  Luke put his both arms around Barry and kissed him twice, once on the lips and once on the forehead.  Then he turned out the lights.

This is what gay life is supposed to be like, Barry thought.  Not endless nights of drugged-out dancing and tricking, wandering mean streets looking for yet another guy with a nice car and $50, then going home alone and empty.  It's supposed to be about caring for each other.  It's supposed to be about love.

Barry stayed awake all night, not wanting to miss a second of the warmth of Luke's arms, his soft breathing, his heartbeat.

He got up early in the morning, while it was still dark out, dressed, gave Luke one final kiss, and left.  You can't go home again, he thought.  It's too late.  Besides, he really wanted to score some crystal.

Sayville, Long Island, November 1999

 "It was nearly a year later when I encountered the Creepy Old Guy in a hotel corridor and started praying the rosary again," Barry tells us.  He went back home to Williamsburg, where his parents were delighted to reunite with him.  He gave up the bars, went to drug counseling, joined a gym, began practicing Zen meditation, and started going to Dignity, the gay Catholic group.

"Sad story," Yuri says.  "Does it mean that we won't share tonight?"

Barry laughs.  "Not until I get to know you a little better."


Was Barry telling the truth?

The guy Barry hooked up with never once said that he was in fact, Luke Perry the actor.

In July 1997, Luke Perry was married to Rachel Sharp.  Their first child, Jack Perry, was about a month old.  Luke has also dated Rene Zellweger, Kelly Preston, Shannon Doherty, and Yasmine Bleeth.

He's a gay ally who has played gay characters many times, including "himself" as gay on Family Guy.  One would think that, if he were gay or bisexual in real life, he would be open about it.

His penis, as we discovered on Oz in 2001, is not nearly as big as Barry claimed, but maybe he's a grower.

It seems odd that Barry would tell the Luke Perry story just as we were watching him on tv, as if he only just thought of it.

But why make up a story about that particular celebrity, when any icon of his childhood would do?

See also: Barry and the Creepy Old Guy

Sunday, October 16, 2016

Asian Boyfriends, Hookups, Hunks, and Sausage Sightings

When I was growing up in Rock Island, I never saw anyone of East Asian ancestry, ever, not even a face in the crowd.  So the exotic became erotic, and I've been especially attracted to Asian men ever since.  

Here are some of my top Asian dates, hookups, and sausage sightings.  Asian will mean men who can trace their ancestry to China, Japan, Korea, Southeast Asia, or the Philippines.















Childhood

Chi Ehr,  my first Asian boyfriend.  I only saw him for a moment, but his dazzling, seductive smile was an iconic part of my childhood.  I ran into him years later.


Peter, a science nerd from Washington Junior High.  We competed over my boyfriend Dan at a sleepover.

Augustana College

The Korean Muscle Bear who moved in next door.  My bedroom window looked down into his kitchen, where I could see him walking around in his underwear.

Indiana University

Sunan, a bisexual Thai boy who Viju and I picked up at Bullwinkle's.  The next day he picked up his girlfriend, and all four of us went out to breakfast without letting on that we had spent the night together.  

Texas

Dan, a Korean twink who answered my personal ad in the Montrose Voice. Worked in a grocery store, chain-smoked.  







West Hollywood

Huan.  I arrived in West Hollywood with the Gayellow Pages in my hands, and within two days I was at Mugi, a gay Asian bar.  I had never seen so many cute Asian guys in my life, and they were all available!  I ended up accepting a date with the first guy who cruised me, Huan, who had been in the U.S. only a few months and didn't speak English well.  

Jin. Alan moved to Japan in the summer of 1986 to start a gay Pentecostal church, and I visited him for the summer.  We shared a tiny apartment, about 216 square feet (the size of a bedroom in America), so when one of us had a guy over, the other had no choice but to watch or join in.  The most memorable of our hookups was Jin, who kept going back and forth between our futons all night.   









Minoru.  Another of Alan's hookups who played futon-switching. 19 year old student majoring in German literature. 

Tranh.  A gym rat in West Hollywood who I worked on for weeks before a celebrity tried to steal him away.  Alan got him back by asking for the date for himself, with me taging along.  We all ended up friends.  .










Chehay.  The slim, soft survivor of the Pol Pot atrocities, whose Cambodian drag queen Aunti Bopha cornered me at Mugi in an attempt to marry him off.  

Tyler.  A third-generation Chinese-American twink who was the current boyfriend of my housemate Derek's ex.  If that sounds complicated, the story of trying to get with him is even more. 












Ramon.   We met him in Barcelona.  He didn't speak Chinese, but he was fluent in Catalan and a promoter of Catalonian independence.  We had quite a heady conversation for a hookup.  

New York

Prasert.  During my summer in Paris, I hooked up with the chef at the Suam Thai restaurant.  




The Man in Black who accosted me on Christopher Street in a weird paranormal experience.

Shen.  An undergrad history major from China.  We just went on one date, and spent the whole evening awkwardly kissing and cuddling in bed.  

Peter.  An undergraduate sociology major, Filipino.  My professor introduced us in the spring of 2001.  Another series of dates spent mostly in the bedroom.  











Dayton

Tony. I tried to hook up with Bobby Chan, the Chinese food delivery guy, but got his friend instead, a grad student in political science at Ohio State University. 


Chao.  The guy Tony dated immediately after our hookup.  We "shared," my first and only time with two Asian guys at once.  





Upstate

Chad A waiter at the Neptune, the Satyr's housemate and "boy toy."  We dated from October through February. 


Mike.  A twink who came to our bear party, but said he was nervous and asked if we could go off somewhere alone.  He gradually increased the number of guys in the room until it was full.  

Philadelphia

Akamu..  I was staying with friends for the weekend, and their housemate brought him home.  Laotian. He came into my room in the middle of the night.  








The Plains

Nguyen  A muscular gym rat from Minnesota.  I actually hooked up with his cousin at an art gallery.

Phil, a middle-aged bisexual who comes to the M4M Parties.  

See also: My Top Black Boyfriends and Hookups.; 16 West Hollywood Hunks That I've Been Keeping Secret.