10 Types of West Hollywood Parties

When I was living in West Hollywood, parties were a major form of socializing.  We held them, or were invited to them, at least once a week, sometimes twice.  Around major holidays like Christmas and Gay Pride, you might be invited to two or three every weekend.

Parties came in different types, with different expectations about what would happen and how they would end.

1. The New Boyfriend.  To introduce a new boyfriend to the group and get their approval, typically on the third or fourth date.   At the end of the evening, one of the guests would be invited to "share" (go into the bedroom for a threesome).

2. Coming Out.  For introducing a new friend to the group, either someone who was newly out or someone who had just escaped to West Hollywood from a homophobic small town.  He had to tell his coming out story.  At the end of the evening, some of the guests would take him "cruising" (looking for dates at the bars).

3. Moving.  You're moving in with a new boyfriend.  Your roommate moved out, so you can no longer afford the rent.  You want to move closer to your job.  You want to move closer to the heart of West Hollywood, Santa Monica and La Cienega.  You didn't have a lot of stuff in West Hollywood, so grab a few friends, rent a U-Haul, and you're done in a couple of hours, followed by a shower and pizza.

4. Christmas.  Rather a depressing holiday, full of hetero family nonsense.  Gay men have often been rejected by their families, or their families are a thousand miles away.  We overcame the depression by hosting nonstop parties where you made fun of Christmas classics, sang double-entendre-laden songs, and unwrapped x-rated presents.

5. Dinner.  A West Hollywood staple, a chance for you to show off your culinary skills.  Followed by discussions of gigantic penises, dates from hell, and celebrity hookups, and entertainment (a nude dancer) or games involving nudity.  At the end of the evening, some guys would be invited to "share" the roommates, and others would go out cruising.

More after the break.

Streaking Through a School Assembly

Rock Island, May 1974

In the spring of 1974, when I was in the eighth grade, streaking was all the rage: in high schools and colleges, at sporting events, on Main Street, young men would doff their clothes and run naked past a shocked and titilated public.

On April 2nd, a streaker named Robert Opel ran across the stage during the live broadcast of the Academy Awards, causing presenter David Niven to comment on his "shortcomings."  A novelty song called "The Streak," by Ray Stevens, hit the top of the pop charts with humorous lyrics about a hick constantly exhorting his wife "Don't look!" as the streaker ran past.

They call him the streak -- he likes to show off his physique.
If there's an audience to be found, he'll be streaking around,
Inviting public critique.

Who could refuse to participate in such an iconic 1970s moment, and plus get to see a lot of naked guys?

My friends Darry and Dan positively refused to do it, remembering the fallout from our protest of evil-lution two months before.  But Craig, who you remember from the Swim Team post and the graduation party -- he had a last name close to mine and therefore sat next to me in every class from third grade to high school -- agreed.

Plus a tall, husky Asian guy appropriately named Peter, who went swimming with us at Longview Park Pool, and a ninth grade Viking whose name I don't remember, but who turned out to not have any "shortcomings."  I don't think any of them were gay.

We waited for the last day of school, where you could sneak out without causing much attention.  Just as the principal called a final assembly, we found a deserted art room, left our clothes with a confederate, and, flushed with joy and fear, ran down the hallway.

To our disappointment, it was deserted.

Peter led us to a side door, and onto the stage, where the principal, vice-principal, and guidance counselor were sitting on folding chairs.  The band was playing the theme of "The Entertainer."

And we ran.

Laughter and applause filled the room as we dashed across the stage, pausing only to give peace signs.  I got a glimpse of the principal.  He was grinning.

We ran down the hallway again, ducked into the art room, threw our clothes on, and hid until we could make our way out of the school in the crowd of students.

We weren't punished.  The administration, heavily embarrassed, acted as if nothing had happened at all.

We didn't even make it into the yearbook.  To this day, alumni argue whether the streaking incident happened at all.

My friends often asked how a conservative fundamentalist boy, who carried a Bible around and couldn't even go to movies, managed to pull off such a stunt.

I did it to see naked guys.

We've gotten much more conservative in the U.S. since.  Today streakers are arrested and charged as sex offenders.

See also: The Naked Pumpkin Runs.