Gay Men and Their Dogs

Not many men in gay neighborhoods own dogs.  When you live in a cramped one-room apartment by yourself, and are away 16 hours a day, you'd be better off with a cat or a parakeet.

And what do you do with them during 4 weeks and dozens of weekends every year when you're visiting gay neighborhoods on the other side of the country?

But those men who did have the space and free time for a dog became superstars.  Their dogs were the life of the party, sure to draw a crowd of admirers.

















 And their furry friend was an ideal wingman for street cruising.  Take the dog out for a walk, meet at least five guys who want to pet him.  And say hello.  And give you their phone number.

Dogs were a problem on the date itself.  You bring the guy home, and instead of getting intimate with you, he won't stop playing with your dog.

And in the bedroom?  If the dog is locked outside, he howls to get in.  If he comes in, he thinks you're hurting his master, and tries to intervene.

More after the break.

My Celebrity Hookup Wish List

I'm all out of gay celebrity dating/hookup stories, except for some with Scott Baio -- do you really want to hear more about his hookups?  And some with forgotten or minor celebrities who wouldn't be recognized today.

Rosey Grier, anyone?

There are over 2,000 regular readers of this blog.  Some of you must have been with, or know someone who has been with, a recognizable celebrity, male, gay or bi, but not out.

It doesn't have to be a full-fledged hookup.  I'll take a make-out session, a grope, or a sausage sighting.  Shower room at the Hollywood Spa, maybe?

Just give me the date, location, and how you happened to hook up, and I'll turn it into a story.

Send them to boomersbeefcake@gmail.com.

Here is my wish list, guys who had a special place in my childhood.  Extra points if anyone has a hookup story about them:

Bill Mumy (Lost in Space)

Butch Patrick (The Munsters, Lidsville)

Chad Lowe (played a straight guy with AIDS on Life Goes On)

Dan Shor (showed his butt in Strange Behavior)

Donny Osmond

Gary Lockwood (The Magic Sword).  I heard he was bisexual, but no details.

James Marsden (X-Files)

Jason Marsden ("the pocket gay").

Leif Garrett.  As my first boyfriend Fred said, "You can even see the bite marks."

Max Gail (Barney Miller)

Shawn or Aaron Ashmore (one of them does X-Men movies).  I'm guessing this is a fake.

The Bear Party on the Prairie

In West Hollywood, I went to bear parties in the Hollywood Hills with fifty guys.

In New York, there were gay male nudist parties on Long Island with thirty or more guys.

Even in Dayton, someone put a lot of mattresses on the floor in his basement and held weekly M4M parties, with at least twenty guys.

Why should the Prairie be any different?

I kept a lookout for parties for months.  There was one advertised about 60 miles away, but it specified that "a fag" would be in attendance to service all the "studs."  No way was I going to a party hosted by someone so horrifyingly homophobic!

Another was about 160 miles away, a little far to drive to see guys naked.

So Troy and I decided to host our own.

Party #1

We turned the study into a dark room by nailing a blanket over the window, dragged all of the chairs in the house into the living room, put two mattresses on the floor in the bedroom, bought porn to put on the tv, made punch and lots of snacks, and printed out signs with hot guys on them.

I put ads up on craigslist and Men4SexNow, and planned a guest list of  25, making sure to have a variety of ages and body builds.

Then the questions started.  Weird, crazy, wacko, crazy questions.

"How many guys will be there?  Can I get their photos?"

"How many tops?"

"How many young tops?"

"How many muscular young tops?"

"How many muscular young hung tops?"

Come on, it's not West Hollywood!  What do you think the average guy looks like?

Which is fine with me, but if you're only into porn stars, a sex party might not be the place for you.

And by the way, everyone who specified a preferred sexual position was a bottom.  Everyone.

Results: RSVP list of 26, 10 guys showed up, including three young, muscular guys who had Attitude and wouldn't allow any else to get with them.  They didn't get invited back.

Party #2

We skipped the dark room and the clever signs, dragged some chairs into the living room, bought sodas and a bag of chips, put the same porn on the tv, and put up more ads.

More emails with questions about "how many young, muscular, hung tops?", plus a variety of other weird, crazy, wacko, and offensive questions:

"Is it discrete?  I don't want my boss to find out."

"How can I be sure that you're not sending me on a wild goose chase to retaliate against someone who rejected you?"

"Can you guarantee that the party won't be all black guys?"

"Can you guarantee that there won't be any old, fat guys?"

"Will there be any women there?"

"Can I wear my pretty pink panties?"

And, again and again, "What are your stats?  Are you a young, muscular, hung top?  Can I get a pic?"

Um...I'm the host.  I'm busy answering the door, checking clothes, making sure everybody has a good time.  I don't even take my clothes off.

Results: Another RSVP list of 26, but only 6 guys showed up, and three of them wouldn't even take off their clothes.


Party #3

We moved a couple of chairs into the living room, put out a few cans of soda, and put Absolutely Fabulous on tv.

I put up more ads with a detailed description of what to expect, plus provisos like "no attitude" and "you will be surrounded by guys of all sizes and shapes, so if you're extremely picky, this isn't the place for you."

More emails:

"How many hot, young, muscular, hung guys will be there?"

Results:

RSVP list of 16, 3 guys showed up.  One was fat, one old, one black  (not that these categories are mutually exclusive).  We watched Absolutely Fabulous.  After an hour, it was obvious that no one else was coming, so the five of us went into the bedroom, took off our clothes, and went at it.

Best M4M party ever.

My High School Game of Rating Bulges

When I was in high school, I dated a Nazarene girl named Rita, who was convinced that she would one day marry singer Donny Osmond.

Her reasoning was simple: God often tells us His will by "laying a burden on us."  She was worried that Donny, as a Mormon, was destined to an eternity in the Lake of Fire.  One night when she was praying for him to be saved, God "laid the burden" on her to be the one who would win him.

Of course, you can win someone's soul without marrying him, so she sealed the deal by asking God in Jesus' name to give her Donny Osmond as a husband.  God said that whenever we pray for anything in Jesus' name, we will get it.  Case closed.

While Rita was waiting for God to deliver Donny, she had to keep herself pure, so no kissing, no holding hands, no nothing.

Of course, she could talk about cute guys.

If I have to date a girl, I definitely want one who doesn't want to hold hands or kiss, and who wants to talk about cute guys!

Rita rated guys on a scale of 1-9.  Since Donny Osmond was undeniably the most attractive boy who had ever lived, he was the only #10.  Everyone else lined up by how closely they resembled Donny Osmond in hair, eyes, smile, physique.

Unfortunately, there weren't a lot of androgynous pretty boys with shaggy hair and an Osmond smile at Rocky High, so none of the guys got higher than 3 or 4.

I had another idea.  "Since Donny Osmond is perfect in every way, he must obviously be perfect down there, in his sexual organs, right?"

"Right," Rita said dubiously.

"No one will ever come close to Donny's facial beauty, but they might come close down there.  Let's rate the source of masculinity itself!"

"But how can we tell what a guy is like down there without seeing him, you know, with his clothes off?"

So I showed her how to tell how it was hanging from the way a guy walked, from how he sat.

Boners while sleeping or kissing his girlfriend,  or for no reason at all.

Bulges in spandex.

Bulges in uniforms.

Boners at the pool.

Tenting in wrestling singlets.

Points:

1.  Can't see anything.
2.  Small bulge, could be a curve of his fabric.
3. Big bulge, but could be something else.
5. Visible cock outline.
6. Obvious semi.
7. Full tent.
8. He rearranges himself.
9. He pushes on it.
10.  It pops out!

The game lasted for months.  Neither of us thought it strange that two ultra-conservative Nazarene kids, who felt guilty over going to movies or eating in a restaurant that served alcohol, would eagerly look for evidence of guys' cocks and balls through their pants.

My friend Aaron the Rabbi's son asked to get in on the game, but soon he dropped out. 

"Guys' baskets are boring!" he told us. "Half the time you can't see anything at all, and even when you see something, how do you know it isn't his handkerchief or his wallet?  I'd rather rate guys on something more obvious."

Turns out he was more of a butt man.