Friday, March 30, 2018

16 Naked New Yorkers

Of all the gay neighborhoods I've lived in, the East Village in Manhattan is my least favorite --  better than anyplace in the straight world, but still lacking.

It has some of the iconic sites of gay culture, including the Stonewall Inn, where Gay Liberation began.  Plenty of gay bars, bookstores, organizations, and cultural events.  Plus the best museums, art galleries, and bookstores in the world were a brief subway ride away.

Still, there was something cold about the City, something distant, something...well, almost grim.  West Hollywood felt like home from the moment I arrived, but in the City I was always a stranger.

During my three years living with Edward in the East Village, I only had one real boyfriend: Joe the Regular Guy, who moved back to Pennsylvania after a year.

But I had a series of crazy hookups, dates, and sausage sightings.



1. A hookup with Yuri and the hippie, who talked a never-ending stream of trivia and gibberish, and turned out to be deficient beneath the belt.

2. Back in L.A. for a visit, a celebrity date with Nate Richert, who played Harvey on Sabrina the Teenage Witch.  I didn't know who he was at the time.  

3. The Harvard boy I picked up in the Rare Book room of the Widener Library.  That was in Boston, not New York.












4. Tomor the Mongolian Shaman.  Ok, he was from Paris, not New York, but how often do you meet Mongolians?  Who are shamans?  Who are gay?  And gifted beneath the belt?

5. Barry, an acolyte at a traditional but pro-gay Catholic community, who got exorcised from a homophobic demon.  I think I just wanted to date him because of the exorcism.










6. The HIV Positive bondage boy: he had just gotten his positive status, and he wanted to go to the New York Bondage Club for his birthday.  He had never tried BDSM before, but he figured it was safe sex.

7. Another celebrity date, with Broadway songster Andrew Lloyd Webber.  Again, I didn't have the slightest idea who he was at the time.  But we had tacos in a limousine.









9. The Man in Black who just appeared one day, walking next to me on Christopher Street.  Maybe he was a Catholic monk.  Maybe he was an alien.

10, Mario the Teen Model, who took me on a crazy roller-coaster ride of a date involving a movie, tacos, a dance club, a bath house, and 4:00 am macaroni and cheese.

11. The Bushman.  Where I answer the question: "Are Bushmen always semi-tumescent?"  In South Africa, not New York.















12. Liam, who waited until the exact moment of his 18th birthday before initiating the romantic activity.

13. Jorge, a bar pickup.  I was depressed, so I broke every rule of gay cruising with him.  Turns out he lived with his parents, who didn't know he was gay.  He had to sneak me out the back door while they were all having breakfast.











14. The Football Player Who Got Unstuck in Time.  Was he really a University of Alabama undergrad from 1938 who somehow took a "jump to the left" and ended up on 2000s Christopher Street?

15. My Nephew Josh.  My brother's kid.  At Christmastime in 2000, he asked me to teach him "about gay sex."  You can't get any weirder than that.











16. The Amish Boy. I take that back.  Nothing is weirder than seeing an Amish boy at the urinal in a highway rest stop, wearing red bikini briefs.  A fitting end to three years of strange dates, hookups, and sausage sightings.






Sunday, March 25, 2018

The Four Fugly Hookups of Minneapolis

I'm in Minneapolis for a conference, and so far I am not happy.  Bitterly cold in late March.

This is supposed to be the gay neighborhood, but it's sketchy and dissolute, lots of derelicts sleeping in doorways and people walking slowly while talking to themselves, not many gay people.

I did find a gay store, in a little galleria where they were triple-parked.  The moment I walked inside, the clerk said suspiciously "Can I help you find anything?"

"Um...you sell souvenirs and gifts.  I didn't come here with a shopping list.  I want to browse."

The food is frightfully expensive -- $20 for breakfast?  My travel allowance is $10.




And the city is downright ugly!  Beat up, boarded up buildings, dismal storefronts, broken sidewalks, busy streets that you have to run across.

The Walker Museum of Art doesn't look like this.  The facade is completely covered by construction tarps, and you have to wait for three stoplights across a major highway to get there.

And the hookups!  Lord have mercy!

I put ads on Grindr, Adam4Adam, Scruff, and Men4SexNow, and get nothing except for three hustlers in a row.  "Could I get some gas money?"  "You generous?"  "You pay me for cock?"

Finally I get a decent guy: Carlo, a tall, muscular guy in his 30s who sends me two buffed body pics and two cock pics (top photo).  I invite him over for a blow job.  He's supposed to arrive at 8:00.

8:00, 8:10, 8:20.  No Carlo.  Meanwhile someone named UseMeSir chirps:  "Oh, sir, I want you to fuck me."

"Oral only."

"I'll do anything you want.  I want you to completely dominate me.  Take complete control."

"Well, I don't have any ropes."

"Oh, I'll provide those, sir.  Just take me and use me, make me your slave."

A hotel room BDSM scene?   Might be interesting, and Carlo is definitely a no show.  I invite UseMeSir over at 9:00.

Fugly #1: Carlo

9:00 sharp.  Carlo arrives, an hour late!  "I'm sorry, I couldn't find a parking space."

Nothing like his photo, a slim feminine guy with pomaded hair and a fragrance, but I figure, what the heck?  I'll do him and get him out of there fast.

"We have to be quick," I tell him.  "I have another guy coming at 9:00."

"Another guy?"  His eyes widen.  "I should be going."  And he rushes out so fast he makes a zooming sound.

Oh, well, I can wait for UseMeSir.

9:10, 9:15, 9:30, no UseMeSir.  Obviously a no show.

BoatGuy is a buffed blond who says he lives in Wisconsin, 45 minutes away, but is willing to drop everything in a heartbeat and drive in.

Ok, I'm desperate.  He says he'll be here at 10:30.

At 10:30 sharp UseMeSir arrives!

"Oh, sir, I'm sorry I'm late, I got drunk to boost my courage enough to come here, and then I lost my cell phone, and a lady found it for me."

He's hideous, about my height, skinny, ugly face, sore on his forehead, more open sores on his arms and legs.  Do people get Karposi's Sarcoma anymore?

"Are you sick?" I ask.  "You have open sores."

"That's just eczema.  Everybody in my family has sensitive skin."

He's hideous, but I figure, he's already here, and BoatGuy will probably be a no show.  So I order him to get naked, and tie him to a chair.  Then I gag him, blindfold him, and attach clothespins to his nipples.

And BoatGuy knocks on the door!  He showed up after all!

Fugly #2: BoatGuy.  A buffed blond with a barrel chest.  Very hot.  But I  have a hideous ugly guy tied to a chair.

BoatGuy's eyes widen.

"This is my 9:00 -- he arrived a little late.  You can watch, or participate, or wait in the lobby for about 20 minutes until the scene is over, whichever you want."

But he scrams out of there as if all of the demons of hell are chasing him.

I can't blame him.  I'm mortified with embarrassment.

Fugly #3: UseMeSir.

I am really angry with UseMeSir for depriving me of two hookups!  You don't do a BDSM scene when you are angry, so I untie him and get him out of there.

Outraged, I go back on Grindr.  Someone named Top You Now sends me just a cock picture and says it's 7.5".  I know, bad idea, but I'm even more desperate, so I invite him over.











Fugly #4: Top You Now:  About 1000 years old, with a drooping face, bad yellowed teeth, and skin tags and moles everywhere.  I can hardly stand to look at him.  He wants to kiss, but no way I'm putting my mouth on that face!

It's not 7.5".  More like 4.5".

I go down on him anyway.

Wouldn't you?

Tomorrow I'm not even going to try.  Museums and art galleries only.  Congratulations, Minneapolis, you beat out Houston as my least favorite city in the U.S.

L

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