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.

The Twink Who Wasn't Interested

I never approach younger guys. They have to make the first move.  I don't want to become known as one of those "creepy old guys" who aggressively grab and grope and won't take "no" for an answer.

Besides, I don't really need to.  Every since I turned 40, I've been getting cruised by every twink in sight.  The question isn't, "Can I hook up with that 23 year old?"  It's "Shall I hook up with him right now, or wait until later?"

If a twink I like shows no interest, I just let him go and wait a few minutes for the next to show up.

Except for Gabe.  He showed no interest, but I kept trying anyway.  I couldn't help it.

Meeting #1:
He was the MC at a gay trivia contest fundraiser for the LGBT Pride Festival: a cute nerd in his 20s, rather feminine, the kind of gay guy who spends all of his time with heterosexual girls.  Long haired, weird red-plastic glasses, lots of weird plastic bracelets, but one of the cutest guys I have ever seen, with a nice tight physique and an obvious bulge.   Definitely my type!

I won first prize with my knowledge of the first state to legalize gay marriage, the first gay character on a prime time tv program, and the date of the Stonewall Riots.  That would surely impress him!

Nope.  He handed me a gift card.  "Here's your prize -- congratulations."   No cruising, no phone number.  Go figure.

Was he involved in a relationship?  Many twinks are monogamous, before they discover the joys of sharing.

Through the gay grape vine, I discovered that Gabe was a recent graduate of the university, an art major, now working as a graphic designer.  He was dating Colton (top photo): a hairy bear cub, a regular at our M4M Parties and a devotee of public encounters at a local cruising spot.  So monogamy wasn't the problem.

Why wasn't he interested?

Meeting #2:
A Vegan potluck in July.  Different glasses, different hair, I didn't recognize him at first.

This time Gabe brought his "life partner," Sasha, a pug dog, who immediately found its way onto my lap.

Gabe sat on the floor at my feet so he could pet Sasha while we played some sort of board game.

This is great!  I thought.  "We're bound to get some hand-touching while we both try to pet the dog!"

Nope.  He was careful to not be petting at the same moment that I was.

Again, no phone number.  I went home and friended him on Facebook, but he ignored my chat requests.

I checked Grindr, Adam4Adam, Hornet, all of the gay dating apps.  He wasn't there.

What was going on?  Why wasn't Gabe hitting on me?   Was I a twink magnet or not?

Meeting #3: Sort of.

He was leaving the gay-friendly coffee house down the hill as I was coming in.  I said "Hi," and he gave me an odd look, not aware of who I was.

Meeting #4-6 More of the same

I forget how many times I saw Gabe, coming and going, at events, across crowded rooms.  Sometimes we would exchange a little small talk, sometimes not. I should have written him off.  But he was so cute!

Meeting #?: Another vegan potluck.

Last week while out jogging, I tripped on some uneven pavement and fell on my face.  Three stitches on my eyebrow, plus a major black eye.  The next day I was in pain, but I went to the potluck anyway

Gabe was wearing a gay pride t-shirt.  I walked up and said hello, and recounted my accident for the 800th time that day.  "Do you think I should drop out of that beauty contest?" I concluded.

He laughed.  "No, you're still beautiful."

If he wasn't going to make a move, then I would!  "I'm getting really bored, hanging around the house all day.  Are you doing anything after the potluck?  We could...you know...do something."

Yes, it did sound that lame.

He shot me a pained look.  "Um...well, I'm supposed to hang with my friends...um...would you like to come with us?"

A pity date?  But ok.

Gabe's friends turned out to be three girls, who took us to a straight bar downtown for cocktails and gossip.  I felt a little out of place during their discussions of couture and Maroon 5, but at least I got to squeeze Gabe's hand under the table.  And afterwards, he accepted an invitation to my apartment.

As we sat on the couch, I couldn't help asking "What took you so long?  I've been trying to attract your attention for months."

"What?  When?"

 "The first time we met, at the trivia contest."

"When you took your prize and walked off without even giving me your phone number?"

I paused.  "What about that potluck last July?"

"You mean the one where I sat at your feet for an hour, and you never touched me?"


Ok, this was getting weird.  "I've seen you like a dozen times, and sometimes we say 'hello,' and sometimes you don't even talk to me."

"Yeah.  I figured, why bother pursuing someone who obviously isn't interested?"

"Well, I didn't want to be a creepy old guy who hits on every twink in sight."

He sat me down on the couch and drew me into a long kiss. "You're too hung up on age."

Maybe I should be a creepy old guy more often.

See also: The Boy Who Had Never Been Kissed; The Hookup Contest