Friday, January 20, 2017

Brad Pitt or Skyler Stone: Which Celebrity Hookup Story Should David Use?

San Francisco, October 2010

Everybody has dated or hooked up with someone famous, or at least someone who's been in front of a tv camera, but a good celebrity dating story has to have five characteristics:

1. He has to be recognizable to the audience.  Someone who starred in five episodes of a long-gone sitcom doesn't count.
2. He has to be attractive.
3. He can't be out.  Who cares about your date with a gay guy?  We want closets, down low, dish.
4. The sexual activity should be explosive, even if it was mediocre at the time. This is an erotic story, after all.
5. The date or hookup should be verifiable.

That's why my go-to celebrity dating story is Michael J. Fox, even though it's been 30 years and nothing erotic happened. He's a recognizable star, he's attractive, he's straight, and I can prove that we had lunch.  I can invent the explosions.

My friend David in San Francisco has been hooking up with at least one guy per day since 1996, but that good celebrity dating story has always eluded him.  He usually goes with Brad Pitt, even though it was actually a 4-way, and the details aren't verifiable.

But today, David calls and tells me, "I found a new celebrity hookup story:  Skyler Stone."

Who?

"Do you watch Raising Hope?"

"Of course."   Unlike its predecessor My Name is Earl, there are no gay characters.  But there are ample gay subtexts, and endless beefcake: hunky Lucas Neff and Garret Dillahunt are shirtless in nearly every episode.

"Skyler Stone played Cousin Mike in the first episode."

I remember him.  In his underwear a lot, frizzy haired, hairy chest, sort of chunky, with a sizeable bulge.

"It was about five years ago," David says.  "I was in Los Angeles for a conference, and some of the guys wanted to go to a comedy club.   One of the performers was a cute kid named Skyler, who did stoner characters [five years ago, Skyler Stone was 24].  I didn't think anything of it until I saw him on Raising Hope."

"How did you meet?"

"I ran into him in the hallway, of all places.  I said I was a fan from San Francisco.  He loves the City.  We got to talking, and ended up going back to my hotel.  He went down on me while masturbating, but wouldn't kiss."

"Doesn't sound like the most exciting sexual experience."

"No, but he's a celebrity, and I need a celebrity hookup story.  What do you think?"

"It will work," I tell David.  "It just needs to be fleshed out a little, maybe tweaked."

1. Recognizable to the Audience

 Skyler Stone is a famous comedian who appears regularly at the Laugh Factory and the Improv.  He has 54 acting credits listed on the Internet Movie Database, including The Rules of Attraction, Accepted, Lost, and CSI.  He starred in his own tv series, Con, on Comedy Central in 2005.

Everyone in the audience will think "Sure, of course he's a big star.  I'd better not admit that I never heard of him."









2. Attractive

An angelic face that counter-balances his stoner persona, wavy blond hair, a buffed physique, a hairy chest, and an enormous Mortadella++ beneath the belt.

The audience will be imagining a blond Adonis.

"He was cute, but not angelic," David says.  "And not that well hung."

"Beauty is in the eye of the beholder," I tell him.  "And cock size doesn't need to be verifiable."

3. Straight

Married, with a daughter.

"But he wasn't married then," David protests.  "I thought he was gay."

"He might be bisexual, or mostly straight but interested in men on occasion.  But the key is, he's definitely not gay."

[Skyler is gay-friendly, however.  He directed Why Men Go Gay in L.A. (2009), about a straight guy who has such bad luck with women that he decides to turn gay.  And in 2012, he and buddy Mike Smith pranked the homophobic Chick-Fil-A by making out in one of its stores.]


4. Explosive Sexual Activity

David and Skyler fell onto the bed, kissing and groping each other.  David tore Skyler out of his clothes and went down on his gigantic Mortadella+.  Skyler moaned and trembled as he spurted into David's throat.  Then David pushed Skyler's legs in the air and topped him, thrusting in and out, while Skyler became aroused again.  When he finished, they collapsed into each other's arms, cuddling and talking softly until they fell asleep.  In the morning, they exchanged telephone numbers, but David was going back to San Francisco in a couple of days, and they never got together again.

"But that's not what happened," David complains.  "I didn't top him."

"Just a little colorful exaggeration."

5. Verifiable

Skyler Stone definitely appeared at the Laugh Factory in Los Angeles in the spring of 2005.  David's conference is verifiable, too.



"With those changes, do you think Skyler Stone makes a better story than Brad Pitt?"  David asks.

Here's a link to the story of David's hookup with Brad Pitt.  

Which do you prefer?

Postscript:  David started using Skyler Stone, but since he disapproves of "colorful exaggeration," he used the real version.

See also: Raising Hope




Thursday, January 19, 2017

My Friday the 13th Date with Kevin the Vampire

Plains, Friday, January 13th, 2017

It's my second date with Wagner the Music Major, who I picked up in the Student Union earlier this week.  We're seeing Hairspray at the University Theater -- in the first row, of course.  I always sit in the first row, when possible.

At intermission I look around the audience.  No one I know, which seems strange -- I know lots of theater buffs.

Then suddenly, about 10 rows back, I see Kevin the Vampire!

 "That's impossible!" I exclaim.

"What?"

"My old boyfriend from San Francisco. I haven't seen him since -- um, 2003.  Nearly 14 years ago.  What would he be doing here?"

I look back again.  No Kevin.

 When we met in San Francisco in 1996, Kevin the Vampire was in his 30s, tall and buffed, with pale skin, a hairy chest, and a Satanic goatee.  We dated for almost a year, although I didn't care for his elitism, his smoking, or his exhausting  bedroom calisthenics.

"Why do you call him Kevin the Vampire?  Did he like biting you on the neck?"

"No, but he had weird paranormal powers.  He could control people's minds..  He could get hookups by going up to a cute guy and saying ''You want to come home with me, don't you?'"

"That's a nice power to have," Wagner says.


"And he could make himself invisible.  You couldn't drop by for a visit -- if he wasn't expecting you, his apartment was impossible to find.  But he wouldn't just show up on the Plains."

I've been posting stories about him on my blog, most recently in December.  Could that have summoned him?

No -- just my imagination!

After the musical, as we are walking out to the parking lot, Kevin is suddenly standing beside me! He doesn't walk up -- he just appears, like Jesus on the road to Emmaus.

"Um...hi, Kevin," I say, pretending to be nonchalant.  "Nice to see you again."

It's been nearly 14 years, but he doesn't look any different.  I guess vampires don't age.

"Wonderful to see you, too, Boomer!"  He wraps me into a hug.  His body is cold, as if he's been running around outside without a coat.  "You have no idea how difficult it was to track you down!  Florida to Ohio to Upstate New York to Philadelphia, and now to this charming little town on the Plains."

"Why didn't you just get my email address from David?"

 "And who is your very attractive companion?: Kevin asks, ignoring my question. "If this is an example of the beefcake on the Plains, I'll be scanning the real estate ads!"



"Beefcake is very common here, and readily available."

He shakes hands with Wagner.  "How long have you and Boomer been an item?"

"This is our second date."

"Oh, my, the second date, a pivotal moment in a new romance!  I wouldn't dream of interfering.  Boomer, let's meet tomorrow to catch up.  I'll be at your apartment at -- say 10:00 am?"

And he vanishes.  He doesn't walk away -- he's just sort of not there.

"I see what you mean," Wagner says.  "Appearing and disappearing like that is kind of creepy."

"But fun," I say with a bit of sad nostalgia.

Saturday, January 14th

Kevin appears at my apartment at 10:00 sharp.  I take him to the gay-friendly coffee house for brunch -- vegetarian quiche for me, only coffee for him.  Vampires don't eat.

He is noncommittal about what he'd been up to since 2003.  "Oh, I puttered around, bought books, went to beer busts, invited men into my bed.  You know what life was like in Gay Heaven: we were busy all the time, but nothing really happened.  Every moment was an eternal now."

"So...what do you want to do during your visit?  Anything special you'd like to see?  Want me to arrange a hookup for you?  I know some guys, or I can go on Grindr."

"Sampling the cornfed beef of the Plains?  That does sound tempting, but I'd really rather have some time alone with you. After all, our relationship was one of the most important in my life -- perhaps the most important -- and I couldn't bear the idea of shuffling off this mortal coil without holding you in my arms again.  If Wagner doesn't object, that is."

I know Kevin --  no quick blow jobs for him!  Exhausting two hour sessions involving weird oils, massage,  licking and sucking everywhere, Tantric edging, multiple positions, multiple orgasms, leaving you drenched with sweat and other fluids, ruining the sheets.

But he has mind control powers.  How can I refuse?

We spend the day sightseeing and cruising, have dinner with some gay guys from the Unitarian church, and then return to my apartment.  We go into the bedroom and start kissing and fondling.

I kneel and go down on Kevin -- he's bigger than I remember, a Bratwurst+, cold and hard as iron.  Then he pulls me onto the bed.  He lies atop me, chest against chest, thigh against thigh, mouth against mouth.  His body is cold and hard, too.   His aroused penis goes between my legs.

Interfemoral -- my favorite position!  We never did this while we were dating!

He puts his arms around me and thrusts while we kiss, his tongue darting in and out of my mouth.  I grab his butt.  We finish at the same moment.

Apparently Kevin is still the same age as he was in 1996, but I'm 20 years older, and one orgasm per evening is enough.  I soon fall asleep.

Sunday, January 15th

When I wake up, Kevin is gone.  No note, no phone number, nothing.  He vanished.

I feel a little frisson of dread.  Did I imagine the whole thing?

No -- the sheets are definitely soiled with bodily fluids.

Wait -- what life "was" like in Gay Heaven.  It "was" an important relationship.  Shuffle off the mortal coil.  Cold skin.  Vanishing even more abruptly than when we were dating...

Was Kevin a ghost?  A ghost vampire?

I rush to my computer and start emailing people.  David. Zack.   Kevin's ex-boyfriend Seth.  His former best friend Marius.

The responses trickle in.  No one has seen Kevin or talked to him in years.

Desperate, I think of the number Marius gave me in 2003.  It didn't work then...

I find it in my old address book, and call.

This time it works -- Kevin answers!  "Boomer, what a surprise!  Did I leave my underwear in your apartment?  I've just arrived back in San Francisco, so I'm afraid you'll have to keep it as a souvenir."

"Um...no, no.  I was just wondering...you left so abruptly... if you were angry or upset."

"Oh no, not at all.  I simply had a plane to catch!  Well, there's the BART.  It was wonderful seeing you again -- I'll be sure to stop by the Plains next time I'm flying across the country."

Kevin is not a ghost. He's not a vampire.  He's just an ordinary guy, a bit eccentric, like everyone lucky enough to live in Gay Heaven.

Or maybe....

See also: Desperately Seeking Kevin the Vampire.; The Sunday Morning Orgy; I Go Home with the Amazing Invisible Boy.

Tuesday, January 17, 2017

Fangorn's First Hookup, with Allen Ginsberg and Peter Orlovsky

San Francisco, November 2010

I'm living in Upstate New York, but back in San Francisco for a conference, staying with my friend David.  We meet some guys at the Red Jade Restaurant on Church Street:  Matt my ex-boyfriend's ex-boyfriend, a South Asian Daddy named Tutor, Seth the Chemist, and his new boyfriend Fangorn.

(I'm not kidding -- he was named after the forest in The Lord of the Rings.)

They live in Santa Rosa, about an hour's drive north of San Francisco.  Seth teaches at Sonoma State, and Fangorn grows onions.

They make quite a pair.  Seth is slim, blond, sharp-jawed, clean-cut, and Fangorn a big, hairy, husky nature boy with long hair and a beard.

We discuss the usual gigantic penises, dates from hell, and celebrity hookups.  Matt tells about his date with Bronson Pinchot, star of Perfect Strangers.  David tells about hooking up with Skyler Stone, who we know from Raising Hope.  I stick to Michael J. Fox.

"Do poets count?" Fangorn asks, "Or do they have to be on the boob tube?"

I hate anti-tv elitists!  I start to roil.

"Sure, poets are fine," I say through gritted teeth.  "As long as they're famous."

"How many famous poets are there, that were alive in the last fifty years?" David asks.

"William Carlos Williams?" Matt suggests.

"Allen Ginsberg.  Back when I was a college kid, still named Dennis.  In fact, my first gay experience was with Ginsberg and his lover, Peter Orlovsky."

We all know Allen Ginsberg (1926-1997), the Beat poet whose Howl was required reading for anyone coming out in a homophobic society:

I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked....
who let themselves be fucked in the ass by saintly motorcyclists, and screamed with joy,
who blew and were blown by those human seraphim, the sailors, caresses of Atlantic and Caribbean love,
who balled in the morning in the evenings in rosegardens and the grass of public parks and cemeteries scattering their semen freely to whomever come who may,
who hiccuped endlessly trying to giggle but wound up with a sob behind a partition in a Turkish Bath when the blond & naked angel came to pierce them with a sword


He became a guru to the youth counterculture of the 1960s.  

He was gay, in a life-long and presumably monogamous relationship with fellow writer Peter Orlovsky (1933-2010.  I've seen them both naked in many films and photographs, and read their homoerotic poetry, but I've never met anyone who hooked up with them.

Boulder, Colorado, July 1975

Dennis was 20 years old, tall and slim, a Creative Writing major at the University of Iowa, a would-be poet desperate to see his stuff published in chapbooks and in little magazines.  

"What a coincidence!" I exclaim.  "I'm from the Quad Cities, just down the road from Iowa City. Did you ever go to the gay bars in Rock Island?"

"No, I wasn't out yet."

He was a lapsed Lutheran, not a pagan yet, and, as far as he knew, straight, although his sexual experience was limited to fumbling around in the car with his date on the night of the senior prom.

He loved the Beat poets, especially Allen Ginsberg, so in the summer of 1975 he enrolled in the Jack Kerouc School of Disembodied Poetics at the Naropa Institute in Boulder, Colorado.

It was a primitive school with no classrooms, no dorms, no buildings at all, meeting in various rented spaces in Boulder, including an old bus depot and an apartment over a Chinese restaurant.  But the intellectual and spiritual energy was amazing: not only Allan Ginsberg but Chongyam Trungpa Rimpoche, Anne Waldman, Ram Das, Gregory Bateson, John Cage, and Gary Snyder were lecturing, performing, and holding classes on such topics as Buddhism, Earth religions, social movements, and poetry. 


There were 1,500 students from all over the world, all ages, staying 8 to a room in hotels and apartments, and sleeping in tents in North Boulder Park.  

Dennis enrolled in Allen Ginsberg's class in the History of Mahayana Buddhism, and Peter Orlovsky's class in Poetry Writing.

Ginsberg was 49 years old, balding, bearded, chubby.  Orlovsky was 42, slim, with long hair and intense eyes.

"They never said anything about being gay.  I didn't even know that they were lovers until someone told me." 

The classes were something of a disappointment.  Ginsberg lectured on historical sources like any professor, except that he was cross-legged on the floor, and occasionally chanted a Sanskrit text.  Orlovsky had students sit in a circle and discuss each other's submissions, the standard creative writing class you could get in any university.

And Naropa wasn't all about spiritual enlightenment and the unspeakable visions of the individual.  There were fist-fights and drunken brawls.  Two naked hippies rushed into a classroom and began tearing off a girl's clothes, screaming about "breaking free from the shackles of capitalism."  The Rimpoche invited a dozen girls and a handful of boys to his house every night for Tantric orgies that lasted until dawn.

In contrast, Ginsberg and Orlovsky seemed positively sedate. They didn't participate in the drinking or the orgies.  Every night they returned to their quiet, nondescript home near downtown Boulder, exactly like a middle-aged heterosexual couple.

Dennis had never met anyone gay before.  He expected flamboyance, camp, and nonstop sexual come-ons. But neither Ginsberg nor Orlovsky ever propositioned him.    

Not that Dennis would accept, of course -- he was straight.  But...from everything he had heard, gay men weren't picky -- they would try to get into the pants of anyone with a penis!  Didn't they find him attractive? 

What was wrong with him?

He started coming to class with his shirt off, hoping his bare chest would draw their attention.

Nothing.  

He stuffed a sock into his crotch.

Nothing.

He positioned himself next to Orlovsky in the writing circle, and casually rubbed his foot against Orlovksy's calf.  

Still nothing.

Finally Dennis decided to take a more aggressive approach. He caught up with Orlovsky and Ginsberg as they walked home for the evening, pushed between them, and put his arm around Ginsberg's waist.  Ginsberg didn't push away.  Instead, he wrapped his arm around Dennis.  Orlovsky looked over, smiled, and wrapped his arm around Dennis, too.

But were they propositioning him, or just being affectionate?  Dennis had to know for sure!

"I have a question.  I hope it's cool.  How did you guys know that you were...um..gay?"  He had never said the word aloud before.

"I think you already know the answer to that question," Ginsberg said.

"What -- no!  I'm just asking.  I'm straight.  I never been with a guy before, and I don't want to."

"Then why are you here?"

"Please master can I touch your cheek," Orlovksy recited.  "Please master can I kneel at your feet.  Please master can I loosen your blue pants.  Please master can I gaze at your golden haired belly..."

Dennis had never heard that Ginsberg poem before.  The image it evoked was tantalizing.  But he said "No!"  and broke away.

"We're going to go home and get naked," Ginsberg said.  "You can join us, if you like.  Or you can wait.  We live thousands of lives -- you have plenty of time."

A few moments later, he was going down on Ginsberg's average sized penis -- still, it made him gag -- and then trying Orlovsky's thin Bratwurst.  Then he bottomed for Ginsberg while Orlovsky went down on him.  They giggled and pawed, and cracked jokes -- to them it was just play.  

But to Dennis it was a transformation.  

San Francisco, November 2010

"Many gay men still think of sex as play, a form of recreation," Fangorn says.  "They don't understand how much spiritual power it has.  It can transform you."

"So...," David says... "I guess you and Seth won't be sharing our out-of-town guest tonight?"

"Let's not be hasty!"  His hand falls into my lap.  "Sex can transform you, certainly, but it can also be a pleasant ending to an evening of dinner and conversation."

Seth laughs.  "Fangorn likes three-ways better than one-on-one sex.  I guess you're always trying to replicate your first experience."  

"Great!" I exclaim.  "My first experience was with an incredibly well-hung high school violinist.  Fangorn, can you live up to his lofty standards?"

He did.