Drake on a Date with Ricky Nelson and Bob Ellis

Hollywood, May 1956

One day in the spring of 1956, Harriet Nelson (who played "herself" on the long-runnng Adventures of Ozzie and Harriet) invited her friend MJ (Mary Jane Croft)  over for coffee, and to talk about a problem.  Her son Ricky, a sophomore at Hollywood High, was soft and sweet and feminine, not outgoing and athletic like his older brother David.  Ozzie  pushed him into playing football, but he hated it.  He preferred tennis, if he was going to play a sport at all.  And music -- he was "musical."

MJ smiled.  "When I was a little girl, musical was what they called...wait...you don't mean Ricky is that way...doesn't he have a girlfriend?"

"Ricky and Claire are just friends. They go shopping and talk about clothes.   I've never seen them kiss, or even hold hands.  And Ricky positively idolizes men.  It's even appeared in the show."  Lately head writers Dick Bensfield and  Perry Grant had been introducing some "Ricky doesn't like girls" plotlines into the scripts.  Harriet didn't know why.  To signal that they knew...to issue a warning.  She sighed.  Studio politics!

"So what if he's...um...musical?" MJ asked.  "You're still his mother, aren't you?"

"Of course!  I have nothing against people like that, I've worked with them since I was a little girl.  And some of my closest friends...." Harriet trailed off: the aggressive, mannish MJ, who played Lucille Ball's perpetual foil/best friend, was almost certainly of the Sapphic persuasion, but she hadn't yet admitted it to anyone.   "But society can be so cruel..."

"Especially the Hollywood gossip mill."

"..and I don't want Ricky being hurt.  Mixed up with the wrong crowd, men who will blackmail him or abuse him.  I think he needs a friend more than anything, to show that he's not alone.  Do you know anyone who...."

"Are you trying to set Ricky up on a date?"  MJ asked, a delighted gleam in her eyes.  "Oh, it will be so sophisticated, like a Cole Porter song, like 'Begin the Beguine.'  I know tons and tons of eligible men who are 'not the marrying kind.' They're mostly older, though. Cesar Romero, John Wayne, Joe Kearns....oh!  Tony Curtis!"

"Tony Curtis?" Harriet repeated.  "I never met him, but I hear that he's the utter living end, as the kids say.  Why, Drake, the boy who rode to school with David and Ricky, used to talk about him all the time.  He was positively in love with him before they had a falling out of some sort...."

She trailed off again.  They looked at each other, understanding...

"Is this Drake boy handsome?"  MJ asked.

When Harriet Nelson called 18-year old Drake, she was so subtle that he had no idea that the evening with Ricky was supposed to be a date.  More like babysitting.  The kid was two years younger than him, scrawny and kind of obnoxious.  But his father insisted -- Ozzie and Harriet was one of the hottest properties in Hollywood, and it wouldn't hurt him to get tight with a big teen star.

Was Ricky even a teenager yet?

If he was going to be stuck in dullsville for an evening, he wouldn't do it alone -- he invited his boyfriend, Bob Ellis,  a 23 year old actor who had starred on Meet Corliss Archer as a "best friend."  Bob was great -- he had a car and his own pad.  Plus a thick beefy chest, nice biceps, and a cock that wouldn't quit.  Not just big, although it was about 7" -- Bob could take three blow jobs, one after the other, and still spring up, ready for more.

The plan was to go to dinner and then bop at the Zanzibar.  Ricky brought Claire along, and Drake and Bob would go "stag."

Everything went fine for awhile. Ricky was becoming rather cute, and he was very knowledgeable about modern music.  Drake could almost see dating him.

Then Bob and Ricky started doing that look that Drake knew well.  Could he be that way?  And hot for his guy?

It got worse:

"Dad said I could sing on the show," Ricky bragged, "Or maybe play the drums, like Krupa."

"You'll never be as hot as Krupa!" Bob said with a sleazy leer.

"Maybe, but which one do you have a chance with?"

"Oh, be yourself!" Claire said, hitting him playfully with her purse.

At the Zanzibar, Drake asked Claire to dance -- good for keeping his pecularity a secret, but a bad strategic move.  When they returned to the table, Ricky and Bob were gone.

"Looks like our fellas have ditched us," Claire said.  "They must out spooning somewhere."

"You mean it's cool with you that Ricky...does that?"

She shrugged.  "I knew about his taste in fellows since we started dating. It doesn't hurt anybody, and I'd rather have him sometimes than not at all."

Doesn't hurt anybody?  Drake was roiling with jealousy.  He went into the bathroom, hoping to catch Bob and the scrawny kid in the act.  Not there.  Then into the parking lot, to Bob's car....

Bob and Ricky were sitting side by side in the back seat.  Ricky had his cock out, and was playing with himself while he went down on Bob!  Drake saw a flash of Bob's shaft, and quite a lot of Ricky's cock -- rather small, cut, and pale in the light of distant street lamps.

Drake rapped loudly on the window.  Ricky sprang up in alarm and covered himself,  then saw Drake and smiled.  He rolled the window down part way.

"Just warming him up for you," he smirked.

Drake never went out with Bob -- or the little weasel -- again.

West Hollywood, August 2017

I heard this story a couple of weeks ago from Drake's ex-boyfriend Zack (I made up the conversation with Harriet).

Why did Drake never talk about it when I knew him in San Francisco in the 1990s?   I think because it puts everyone, and especially Drake, in a rather bad light.  Drake had no cause to expect monogamy from Bob when multiple partners seem to have been the norm in 1950s Hollywood.  He overreacted to the situation and lost a boyfriend and a potential friend.

And there's another problem: Drake going down on Tony Curtis is a sallow 16-year old with no experience in the gay community; Drake going on a date with Ricky Nelson is an experienced 18-year old with a boyfriend.  Six months apart at most. Can they both be true?

See also: Drake on his Knees in Tony Curtis' Dressing Room; Billy Finds a Special Friend on The Twilight Zone; Ricky Nelson Hooks Up with Kent McCord.

An Interview with the Most Attractive Man in the World (no, not Adam Devine)

Los Angeles, August 2017

When I was in Los Angeles a couple of weeks ago, I reunited with Zack the Photographer. When we met, he was the most stunningly handsome guy in the world, a 19-year old college freshman, dating Drake the Teddy Bear artist.  That was over 20 years ago!  

He invited me to dinner at his glass-and-steel apartment in a great retro building near the Third Street Promenade in Santa Monica.

Zack is now 40 years old, working as an IT manager for a company in Marina del Rey.  Bearded, a little rugged, but with the same stunning face, smooth, pale skin, thick chest, prominent nipples, and uncut Mortadella that I remember from his twink days.  I thought it would be interesting to interview the most attractive man in the world at age 40.

Q: Are you still doing photography?

A: Some.  I've had a few things published online, and I enter my work in contests, but lately I don't really have a lot of time.

Q: How did you manage to move to West Hollywood?

After I dropped out of art school, I bopped around, from New York to Philadelphia to Boston, and then back to San Francisco for awhile.  I got a second degree in computer systems, and this job opened up.  But I don't think of myself as living in West Hollywood -- I go out there maybe once a month -- my life is here in Santa Monica.

Q: Is there a lot of gay culture in Santa Monica?

A: I'd call it post-gay.  The younger generation never knew the discrimination we did, so they don't shun straight people.  They hang out in straight bars, and meet guys on dating apps.

Q: Since you turned 40, have you become a twink magnet?

A: Well, I've just been 40 for a few months, but yeah, I've noticed that at the gym.  20 year olds always coming up to me, asking me questions, staring in the steam room.  I could hookup with a dozen guys a day if I wanted, and that doesn't even include phone apps.

Q: How many hookups do you have per week?

One, maybe two if I'm lucky.  I work 10-hour days and go to the gym 6 days a week.  Not a lot of time left for hanging out on Grindr.

Q: Does your gigantic penis get you a lot of attention?

Not really.  I mean, most guys I meet don't ask, and those who do, don't believe me when I tell them.  I've always been what they call a "pretty boy," desired for my looks, not my cock.

Q: Any long-term relationships?

I was with Tim for three years.  That's the longest, and we didn't actually live together.  I don't think I'm the settling-down, domestic type.  I like my privacy.  I want to be able to eat cold pizza in my underwear while watching Nickelodeon.

Q: Any good paranormal stories?

When I was living in New York, we had this party, and a lot of guys came over.  I thought this guy named Benny was a friend of a friend, but turns out no one actually knew him -- he just showed up.  Well, we had the "biggest penis" contest, and he pulled out this monster.  It was like 6 inches soft!  I went up to fondle him, and he just vanished!  He wasn't there anymore.  Six other guys saw it happen.

Q: Any good celebrity dating stories?

A couple involving my ex-boyfriends.  Drake, who you met, hooked up with Tony Curtis, Ricky Nelson, and John Wayne..or maybe John Wayne Jr.

My ex Tim hooked up with a couple of old teen idols, Scott Baio, Ricky Schroder, and..who was it...Mark somebody from Nightmare on Elm Street -- I can email him and ask.  But I don't have any of my own -- I've only lived in L.A. for two years.

Q: Any interesting fetishes?

I tried BDSM -- some of the young guys expect me to tie them up and order them around, you know.  Not my thing.  Oral and anal are plenty for me.

Q: Speaking of oral, can I go down on you?

I was wondering why you didn't ask before. Getting shy in your old age?

See also: Zack Hooks Up with the Prince of Sweden; The Ghost with the Kovbasa+

Drake Hooks Up with Radio "Teen" Dennis Day

San Francisco, September 1996

Drake the Teddy Bear artist is moving to Guerneville, a gay resort town on the Russian River, and although it's only 75 miles north of Castro Street, it's not Castro Street, so his friends are behaving as if he's moving to Siberia.   We've thrown him a going away party, with gifts of a pith helmet, binoculars, malaria pills, and a machete (for carving out trails in the jungle).  And, since he's said repeatedly that he's not into twinks -- nobody under 40 need apply -- we got a twink to dance nude and swing his long 19-year old cock in Drake's face.

San Francisco parties usually don't include celebrity hookup stories, mainly because there aren't very many.  Guys typically move directly from small towns in the Straight World to Castro Street, with no stop in Hollywood in between.  But Drake grew up in a show business family in Old Hollywood -- there's a picture of him at age two or three, awkwardly balancing on Humphrey Bogart's knee -- and, feeling nostalgic, he tells us about how, after high school, he went to work for Desilu and invited every big and not-so-big star into his bed:

"How about naming some names?"  Corbin asks.

"Sure.  Tony Curtis, Marlon Brando, Gordon Scott, Cesar Romero...well, it's easier to name the stars I haven't been with."

"How about Tony Dow?"

"No, no twinks.  I'm not into them now, and I wasn't into them then.  And not Rock Hudson.  He wasn't into me.  But anyone else...name him, and I've probably been with him."

Desi Arnaz?  Yes.
Desi Arnaz, Jr.?  No.
Farley Granger?  Yes
John Wayne?  No
Richard Long?  Yes
Richard Benjamin? Yes.
Bill Bixby?  Yes

The game goes on. Sean Connery, Roger Moore, Ed Asner, Don Rickles, Charles Bronson, Sonny Bono, Fabian, Paul Anka, Caroll O'Connor, Donald O'Connor, Frank Sinatra, Billy Dee Williams. Nat King Cole, Robert Redford, Paul Newman, Richard Thomas, Richard Dawson, Don Adams, Don Rickles, Don Ameche, Elliot Gould, Ryan O'Neill....

Out of over 50 male actors and singers of the 1950s and 1960s, Drake has been with 20.  40%.

"Which is your favorite?"  I ask.

Without hesitation, Drake names: "Dennis Day."

We look around, mystified.

"You know, Dennis Day?  On the Jack Benny radio program?"

In case you need a refresher on gay history, Jack Benny was a comedian who pretended to be gay for 30 years, on the radio (1932-1955) and on tv (1950-1965), playing "himself" as a prissy, vain, mincing, lisping queen, pretending to eye the muscular stage hands, pretending not to be interested in women, even pretending that real-life wife Mary Livingston was just a friend.

Dennis Day (1916-1988) played a sheltered, naive, squeaky-voiced, gay-vague teenager, still living with his working-class parents, who Benny hired as a singer (his speciality was incongruously sentimental Irish ballads).  His dialogue with Benny ranges from starry-eyed hero worship to passive-aggressive sarcasm, with not a few obvious gay jokes.

When a female movie star makes a pass at him, he recoils in horror.

He is taken to a psychiatrist because he is so "unusual."

He wolf-whistles at Benny wearing bicycle shorts.

Drake, growing up in the macho 1940s with a bodybuilder father, had few if any models of boys who could be artistic and sentimental, who didn't like girls, who liked boys.

On the radio, you could play characters of all different ages.  Drake was crushed when, at about age 10, he met the "squeaky voiced teenager":  Dennis Day was actually in his 30s, with a wife and five kids, two older than Drake!

Hollywood, September 1958

Drake was a recent high school graduate working as a production assistant for December Bride at Desilu.  The Jack Benny Program was filmed on a nearby soundstage, and Dennis Day was a semi-regular. 

Drake could easily have dropped in on some pretext, but he avoided it.  He wanted to keep his memory of the radio Dennis Day, the cute gay teenager of his childhood fantasies.

Another show filmed at Desilu was Date with the Angels (1957-58) starring future Golden Girl Betty White as the scatterbrained, wild-scheme-concocting Vickie Angel, and Bill Williams (father of future Greatest American Hero William Katt) as her by-the-book insurance agent husband.

"Did you go down on him?" Zack asks.

"No, but ask me about Betty White's husband at the time, Lane Allen."

 Betty was quite a gay ally, even then, and managed to get a full coterie of Friends of Dorothy into the cast: Richard Deacon, Nancy Kulp, Sheila James Kuehl, Chuck Connors, Mary Jane Croft.  Drake often dropped by to chat with new and old friends.

One day in the summer of 1957, he found Betty and Bill on a set built to look like Sardi's restaurant, in a plot about Vickie meeting various celebrities, but failing to convince her friends.   Liberace...Hugh O'Brien...and waiting in the wings, reading his script, Dennis Day!

He was over 40 years old, but still boyish, still an icon from Drake's memory.

 You'd think that someone who has sat on Humphrey Bogart's lap and played softball with David and Ricky Nelson would be blasé about meeting a tv star.  But Drake found himself unaccountably star struck.

Tongue-tied, he approached and said something like "Mr. Day, I don't know if you remember me, but we met when I was a kid...."

Day gave him an up-and-down glance. "Well, you've grown up quite nicely, haven't you?"

Liberace, who was wandering about, trying to pick up the production assistants, put his hand on Drake's shoulder and whispered. "You'll never get him.  Lord knows I've tried."  He patted Drake's butt and walked on.

"Did you do Liberace?" I ask.

"No.  Liberace was way too fruity, and way too aggressive.  He would practically unzip you before you had a chance to say 'Hello."

"Get me to do what?" Day said, feigning innocence.

Drake knew that game!  Day was on the make.  Thinking fast, he said, "To...um...listen to a song I wrote.  Give me a professional opinion."

"Why, certainly.  I'm always glad to encourage new talent.  Let's go to my dressing room, and you can give me an earful.  Or do you need a piano?"

As they walked to the dressing room, Drake was in a panic.  He wasn't a good singer, and he couldn't make up a song on the spot!

It was a very small room, barely big enough for two.  Day sat in the only chair, folded his hands, and looked up expectantly.

The only thing Drake could think of was a song he had heard on the radio that morning:

Bye-bye, love.  Bye-bye, happiness.
Hello, loneliness.  I think I'm going to cry.
Bye-bye, sweet caress.  Hello, emptiness.

"Ok, Ok!" Day said, laughing.  "That's great, but which of the Everly Brothers are you?"

Drake hung his head.

"Oh, don't be glum.  I know what you really came here for."  Before he realized what was happening, Day had unbuttoned Drake's pants and was fondling his cock.

Drake immediately hardened.  He loosened his pants so they would drop to the floor.  Day wrapped his hand around Drake's  cock and began masturbating him.

Then Drake fell to his knees, pulled Day's pants down, and began bobbing up and down on Day's cock -- average sized, thick head, ruddy --

"No, no -- up here.  I want to look at you," Day murmured, bracing himself against the make-up table.

Drake rose to his feet again and let Day masturbate them both.  He reached beneath Day's shirt to feel his warm hard chest, pinch his nipples.  Then they kissed ...and spurted almost simultaneously.

"Whoa, what a gas!" Day murmured.  They wiped off with some tissue and got dressed.  "Tell Betty thanks for the hospitality."

Drake saw Dennis Day a couple of times after that, but always in a group, so they never hooked up again.

San Francisco, September 1996

"Why is that your favorite story?" Mickey asks.  "It was just a hookup, not a romance, and it doesn't sound that great.  Dennis Day wasn't muscular or hung.  He wasn't even that famous."

"But he was gay," Drake said.  "Or bi.  He didn't just accept a blow job from some queer, he wanted men.  Even though he was married for 40 years and had 10 kids, he wanted men.  Can you see how powerful that was to a kid in 1958, who thought there were only a few gay people in the world?  We really are everywhere."

"Even in Guerneville."

Drake on His Knees in Tony Curtis' Dressing Room

San Francisco, November 1996

Gay parties are different in San Francisco than they were in West Hollywood: dinner is out at a restaurant, not at someone's apartment, and there are no celebrity dating stories: there's no actor colony here, so most guys don't have any opportunity to meet celebrities.

But this is my birthday, so I have to tell the story of my date with Michael J. Fox.

David and Corbin, the gym rat with the Mortadella+, counter with our four-way with Brad Pitt.

My sort-of boyfriend Kevin the Vampire tells about his hookup with Anton LaVey, the founder of the Church of Satan, who was actually a "very nice guy."

Not to be left out, Drake the Teddy Bear artist tells us "When I was a kid, I hooked up with Tony Curtis!"

Tony Curtis, the famous actor who went in drag for Some Like It Hot (1959) and had a gay-subtext scene in Spartacus (1960)?  He's had five wives and six children, but how could anyone straight fill so many of his film roles with so many gay subtexts?

"Is it ok if I was slightly underaged at the time?"  Drake continued.

"California didn't repeal its sodomy law until 1976, so you were both committing a felony," Kevin the Vampire points out.  "Go for it."

Hollywood, November 1955

Drake's father was Georges Bruggeman (1904-1967), an actor and stuntman who appeared in over 200 movies stretching from the 1920s to the 1960s, including such classics as The Wizard of Oz (1939), Rio Bravo (1959), Spartacus (1960), and The Graduate (1967).  A bodybuilder, a winner of the AAU "Most Perfect Body" title in 1928, he doubled for beefcake stars like Buster Crabbe, Johnny Weissmuller, and Richard Green.

"Forget Tony Curtis!" David exclaims.  "Did you ever see your Dad naked?"

Drake grew up among celebrities.  He car-pooled to school with David and Ricky Nelson.  Buster Crabbe and Cary Grant came over for dinner.  He had free run of the studios, especially Universal, where his father worked most often.

"Did you get a sausage sighting of David Nelson?" I ask.  "I heard that he was enormous."

"Nope, sorry.  David was older than me, and Ricky younger, so we didn't really hang out."

Drake loved watching the beefcake stars like John Saxon, Rock Hudson, and Troy Donahue.

As they got to know him, they joked around with him, or sent him on little errands.  Sometimes they even invited him to help them change costumes.

He got a sausage sighting of gay actor Rock Hudson, but didn't hook up with him.

One day when he was about 16, Drake met 31-year old Tony Curtis, who was starring in the circus acrobat love story Trapeze, about a crippled trapeze artist (Burt Lancaster) who agrees to teach a young recruit (Tony) the trade, while they compete for the affection of Lola (Gina Lollobrigida).

Tony had black curly hair, soulful eyes, a feminine pout, and a tight physique, with a smooth hard chest.  He was a fey prettyboy who everyone thought was queer, except he was married and had lots of girls on the side.

In Hollywood since 1948, he was contracted to Universal Studios, cast mostly in  Westerns, film noir, and historical romances, anything that would allow him to pout for the camera, take his shirt off, and crush a damsel in distress into his arms.

Drake started hanging around Tony, mooning over him, as they said when he was a kid.  He loved Tony's half-smile, the wiggle in his walk, the way he had of looking at you like you were the most important person in the world.

Once as the walked across the studio, Tony put his arm around Drake's shoulders.  Overwhelmed by the warmth and strength of his touch, Drake walked more and more slowly, so it would last longer.

Finally Tony said "What's the matter, Drake?  Legs giving out on you?"  He then pulled Drake into his arms and carried him like a damsel in distress in a Medieval movie.

He was just joking, but Drake fantasized that night about being rescued by Tony and carried off in his arms.

He fantasized a lot.

"You needn't use euphemisms," Kevin says.  "We're all adults here.  You beat your meat while thinking of the prettyboy."

One day Drake found something he thought Tony would like -- he didn't remember what, an article in a magazine, maybe.  He was so excited about it that he burst into Tony's dressing room without knocking.

Tony had his pants down.  There was a boy on his knees, going down on him while fondling himself.

Drake recognized him as Jimmy, another studio hanger-on who sometimes took walk-on parts.

The moment he saw Drake, Jimmy jumped up with a shout, covered himself, and ran out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

Tony stood there, aroused, glaring at Drake.  "There's a new fad all the kids are doing.  It's called knocking."

"I'm...I'm...sorry," Drake stammered, staring at Tony's aroused penis.

"How big was it?"

"Bigger than me, and I have a Mortadella!  It was beautiful.  Long, thick shaft!  Enormous mushroom head!"

"You interrupted Jimmy's job," Tony said sternly.  "Now you finish it."

Drake had gone down on guys before; some of the older boys at summer camp used to pay him a quarter for each blow job.  But none of them were nearly as big as Tony!

He knelt, opened his mouth as wide as he could, and got the head in.  The shaft entered easily after that.  Tony thrust his hips, pushing it in and out in rhythmic strokes while murmuring "Yeah, that's it.  Do it nice.  Chicks just don't know how to do it right, do they?  It takes a man."

Drake was pleased at being called a man. He began to fondle himself, and finally pulled it out.

"Getting off on my rod, huh?" Tony murmured.  "That's the way I like it.  I want the queer to have a good time, too."

It didn't take long for Tony to spurt into Drake's throat.  Drake finished a moment later, spurting all over Tony's shoes.

"You should wash that up, kid," Tony said, pushing his penis back into his pants.

Drake was a little annoyed.  Was he a man, a queer, or a kid?

"Well, since you probably scared off my usual guy for good, want his job?" Tony asked.  "It pays $2.00 per load if you swallow, $1.00 if you don't.  He pulled two dollar bills from his wallet and pressed them into Drake's hands.  "That's for today."

Drake stared in astonishment.  But...this was a job?  He thought that Tony liked him, wanted to be friends and do things together.  Found him attractive, found him a man.  Would anybody with a willing mouth do?

"No...no, thanks," he stammered.  "I'm kind of busy."

He never went back to the set of Trapeze, but he did make out with Rock Hudson at a gay party in 1961.  Still no hookup, though.

Was Drake Telling the Truth?

1. Trapeze was filmed in France, not at Universal Studios, and George Bruggeman was not in it.  But he was in Mr. Cory (1957), with Tony Curtis as a busboy turned gambler.  A sixteen-year old actor named Jimmy Karath had a minor role. Maybe Drake mixed up.
 
2. In 1996, Drake told us that he was 53.  That means that in 1955, he would have been 12 years old, not 16.  Of course, older guys often knock a few years off their age.

3. This basket shot seems to indicate that Tony has an average-sized penis.

4. But Tony Curtis was definitely bisexual. In an interview for the gay magazine Out Smart in 2002,  Tony  said that during the 1950s he got "more action than Mount Vesuvius: men, women, animals.  I loved it.  I participated where I wanted...I've always been open about it"   But by the 2010s, he was rather homophobic.  He refused to see Brokeback Mountain due to its gay content.

Corbin's Choice: Handsome and Small or Sleazy and Gigantic

San Francisco, April 1996

A few weeks ago, Lane and I drove back to West Hollywood for the annual Oscar party.  Then, unexpectedly, he had to take care of something about the apartment building he inherited from his mother, so he stayed, and I took the bus back to San Francisco.

It's been three weeks, and he's still there:  "It's more complicated than I thought.  We need to completely remodel the foyer, and there's a zoning issue with the pool, and one of the tenants needs to be evicted."

Yeah, right.  The boy just likes being home.  Face it: he's not coming back at all.

To cheer me up, Drake the teddy bear artist and his boyfriend Zack ask me out to dinner at Almost Home, a Castro Street restaurant that specializes in "back home" cuisine: pot roast, fried chicken, chipped beef on toast.

There are dozens of Chinese, Japanese, Thai, Indian, Mexican, Greek, and Filipino restaurants in San Francisco, and I'm offered chipped beef on toast?  This evening won't go well.

They invite Zack's friend Corbin: in his 20s, tall, Mediterranean, very muscular, smooth hard chest visible beneath a white silk shirt unbuttoned five buttons.  Very handsome face, big black eyes, aquiline nose, a prominent chin.

Are they trying to fix us up?

He's very attractive, but there are thousands of eligible gay men within a five block radius.  Why Corbin in particular?

They know about my preference for extra-large beneath-the-belt gifts.  Maybe Corbin has a Kovbasa beneath the belt.

We choke down our down-home American food and start swapping stories of dates from hell, hookups with celebrities, and gigantic penises.  I tell about the time Alan and I accidentally picked up the kept boy.  Zack tells his coming out story.  Drake tells about his date with John Stamos, star of Full House.  Now it's Corbin's turn.

"I'm going to tell you about my choice: handsome or hung."

Bakersfield, California, Summer 1990

Corbin grew up in a conservative Armenian-American household in Bakersfield, about 100 miles north of Los Angeles. During college, he and his friends often went to drag shows and male strip shows at the Casablanca Night Club on N Street, downtown.

The gay community was rather small, so when you met a new guy, chances are one of your friends had dated him.

One night Corbin was approached by a rather ugly, sleazy looking guy with ridiculous hair.  His opening line was: "What would you like for breakfast tomorrow morning?  Besides me, that is?"

"Sleazy!" Zack exclaims.

Corbin almost gave Attitude, but then one of his friends gestured with his palms spread wide, indicating that the guy was super-hung.

Who cares if he was sleazy?  A penis is a penis.

There were no hookups in Bakersfield in 1990.  Corbin made a date with Sleazy for next Wednesday night.

After awhile, Corbin was approached a second time: tall, rugged male model looks with a little beard, very muscular bodybuilder physique and a honest opening line.

"Hi, do you mind if I stand here and talk to you awhile?"

Corbin practically swooned as they made initial small talk.

He glanced at his friends.  One signaled with his fingers that the guy was very small.  Princess Tiny Meat.

Who cares if he was tiny? Corbin made a date with Mr. Handsome for next Thursday night.

When he returned to the table, his friend said "Wow, what a stud you landed!  IHow are you going to break your date with Sleazy?"

 In Bakersfield in 1990, it was taboo to accept dates with more than one guy at a time. You had to evaluate the first, and get him evaluated by your friends, before you could go on to the second.

Corbin had to make a choice.

1. Sleazy but hung.
2. Handsome but tiny.

San Francisco, Spring 1996

"You stole that story from 'The Canterbury Tales,'" I protest.  "Where the man has a choice of a partner who is attractive during the day and ugly at night, or ugly during the day and attractive at night."

"Never read it," Corbin says.

"I'd pick Handsome," Drake says.  "He'll be the envy of all your friends, and you can work around the deficiencies in the penis department."

"I think I'd go with Sleazy," Zack says.  "No competition, everyone wondering what you see in him.  It'd be fun.  And you'd know what was waiting for you at home."

"Which one did you pick?" I ask.

Corbin grins. "Why, Handsome of course!  He had everything I was looking for in a guy, except for that one little thing.  And in the end, who cares about that?"

I look at Corbin.  Is he trying to tell me something, to "out" himself as small beneath the belt?

After all that buildup, there is no way I am going to reject Corbin.  After dinner and cruising at the Midnight Sun, I agree to go back to Drake's place for "sharing."

While we are all sitting on the couch, Drake and Zack start kissing.  I lean over to kiss Corbin.

"Wait -- before the festivities, could I take a shower?" he asks.  "I came to dinner directly from the gym."

"Sure -- we'll be in the bedroom," Drake says.

While Corbin is showering, we go into the bedroom and take off our clothes.  I go down on Zack and Drake while they're kissing.   Then Zack goes down on me while Drake watches.

Corbin comes out of the bathroom naked, toweling off.

Very well hung! Uncut Mortadella+, already semi-aroused.

"Hey, I thought you..." I begin.

"What?"

"I thought your story was a way of coming out as small."

He laughs.  "I've never been accused of that before!   It was to make you feel at ease, to tell you that I don't mind that you're small.  Zack and Drake told me."

"Me, small?"  I exclaim, offended.  I push Zack's head off me and display my Bratwurst+.  "How's that?"

Corbin lies down on the bed and begins fondling me. "Hey, who cares about size?  Small ones slide down my throat just fine."

He goes down on me.  After a few minutes, we move to the 69 position, but I can't take him.

"Don't worry about it," he says.  "We regular-sized guys get that all the time."


Regular sized?

Well,  I am the smallest guy in the room.

That's the risk you run when you prefer the gigantic.

See also: Sharing the Bear's Boyfriend; Corbin, David, and I Hook Up with Brad Pitt; and The Edwardian with the Footlong

I Share the South-of-Market Bear's Boyfriend

San Francisco, March 1996

Lane and I were living in San Francisco, gay heaven.  I was 35 years old, far beyond my twink years.  He was 40, graduated to Daddy.

We rarely saw anyone under 30.  San Francisco is hard; it takes time, money, and strategy.  Most twinks and Cute Young Things can't manage it.

Our circle of friends consisted entirely of guys in their 40s and 50s: chubby, bearded bears or smooth musclemen, with nipple rings and tattoos, black handkerchiefs in their pocket, handcuffs attached to their belt loops.

They worked entirely within the gay community: as a leather craftsman, the manager of a travel agency that catered mostly to gay men, an AIDS support specialist, a  lawyer whose clients were exclusively gay men, an artist who made leather bears to sell to gay tourists.



Our best friend was probably Drake, the leather bear artist (left) -- teddy bears in bulging chaps, in leather jackets, carrying whips and gay flags.  He was 53 years old, husky but muscular, with a hairy chest, prominent nipples, and nice biceps.  Kielbasa+ beneath the belt, uncut.  A bondage bottom.

His boyfriend, Darrell the Cartoonist, was younger, in his mid-40s (ten years, the limit to an acceptable match!), already mostly bald, with a salt and pepper beard.  Moderately hairy chest, cut Bratwurst.  A bondage top (below).

We didn't see Darrell much.  We went out to dinner once and "shared" after, but he didn't go out to the bars or the bear parties. In fact, some guys in our circle of friends wondered if Darrell existed at all, or if he was just an excuse to not "get out there and date."

One day just before Halloween, the start of the gay social season, Darrell was in Oklahoma visiting his parents, when his allergies started acting up.  He took an antihistamine, drank a glass of wine with it, and died.

The funeral was in Oklahoma.  We didn't go.

But this story is about Drake's new boyfriend.

A couple of weeks after Darrell's death, Drake returned to the gay social world.

Beer/soda bust at the Lone Eagle
Underwear contest at the Lone Star
An AIDS benefit at the Metropolitan Community Church
A book signing at Different Light
The bear parties every Wednesday and Friday night.


We saw Drake at every event, eating, drinking, socializing, cruising.  But he didn't hook up with anyone, not even at the bear parties, he didn't ask anyone for dates.  He always went home alone.

Why do you go to a bear party without even looking for someone to share your bed?

At Christmastime, Lane and I tried to fix him up with a guy we knew, but he refused: "Been there, done that.  The domestic thing isn't for me, anyway.  Too many rules."

So we let him alone.

Then one day in March 1996, Drake met us at brunch after church and announced: "I have a new boyfriend!  Last night was our third date!"

Lane and I glanced at each other in surprise.

"Your first date in months!" I exclaimed.  "Why didn't you tell us about it before?"

He stared down at his menu.  "Oh, I didn't want you guys making a big deal about it until I was sure."

"Well, we're making a big deal of it now," Lane said.  "Where did you meet him?  What is he like?  Details, details!"

"His name is Zack.  He saw some of my bears at All American Boy and asked about the artist. He's from across the Bay."

Very vague.  "So, are you bringing him to the beer bust at the Eagle?"

"Um...no, he had to get home."

I frowned.  You were expected to introduce new boyfriends to "the family" on the second or third date.  He had to be evaluated, to make sure he was good enough for you, that he would fit into our world.  And he had to be "shared."

Tuesday night underwear contest.  Drake, but no Zack.

"Oh, he would win so easily, I wanted to give you other guys a chance."

Wednesday night bear party. Drake, but no Zack.

"Oh, he's uncomfortable in big crowds like this."

Saturday night dance at the Metropolitan Community Church.  Drake, but no Zack.

"He's got a thing tonight."

The next week, more of the same.

We asked around.  No one had met Zack.

Was Drake just making him up?  Or was he so spectacularly attractive that he didn't want to risk getting him stolen away?

Or was he embarrassingly ugly?

Time to take the initiative.  We invited Drake and Zack to dinner -- not in our apartment, too small, but at the Ethiopian restaurant down the street.

Ethiopian food comes in dabs of colorful mashed vegetables and minced meats on a bed of spongy bread.  Everyone tears off some bread and uses it to spoon up the waadi, ayibe, and kocho.  Perfect for pre-"sharing" intimacy.

Drake and Zack arrived a few minutes late, Drake in a white t-shirt and a leather vest, and Zack in a yellow button-down shirt and a leather jacket.

He was a kid!  A Cute Young Thing!  A few years ago Fred scandalized West Hollywood by dating Matt, eight year younger.  This kid must be at least 20 years younger than Drake!

We tried not to stare as Zack shook our hands and sat down between us.

Soon we warmed up.  Zack was a freshman at Berkeley, only 19 years old.  But he was relaxed,  articulate, well versed in gay culture, and completely at ease with guys 20, and 30 years older.

Of course, we shared later.  No tattoos, no nipple rings, no piercing, a single earring.  Smooth, pale, flawless skin, a big chest, prominent nipples, xylophone abs, an uncut Mortadella.  I went down on him while Lane was going down on Drake, and then we kissed while Drake was going down on Zack.  We ended the evening by tying Drake and Lane together on the bed for a bondage scene.

Later I called Drake.  "That's why you didn't want us to meet him?  Because he was younger?"

"Well, you have to admit, he's not the usual type you see hanging around the Eagle."

"I didn't know you were into younger guys."

"It's the darndest thing," Drake said.  "I didn't used to be, but for the last few years, there are twinks everywhere I go. They're smiling at me, cruising me --  It's like I'm a twink magnet."

"Sounds annoying," I said.  "Who needs a lot of skinny, giggling schoolboys in your bed?"

"It has its benefits.  They're awfully enthusiastic, and their energy -- they just keep going and going!"

 "Still, I hope I never become a twink magnet."

See also: The Leatherman who never left South of Market.; Zack Hooks Up with the Prince of Sweden; Handsome or Hung?