High School Graduation: Getting Down with a Dude

Rock Island, May 1978

My brother Ken wasn't the only one who seemed to "know" in the winter and spring of 1978, my senior year at Rocky High, as I studied for AP exams and filled out college applications.  It seemed that I spent the whole semester protesting "No way am I a Swish!"

1. Darry (below), who explored the ghost of Davenport House with me, gave me a portable chess set for Christmas, with the card saying: "You'll need this for your honeymoon with Xaviera Hollander."

Xaviera Hollander was a New York City madame who told about her exclusive brothel in an autobiography, The Happy Hooker.  She was widely recognized as the most beautiful woman in the world.  Why would I need a chess set for my honeymoon with her?  Obviously because we wouldn't be having sex!








2. My Career Planning teacher assigned the Strong Interest Inventory, which matched you to jobs based on a series of Zen paradoxes: would you prefer to draw maps or feed zebras,  solve people’s problems or drive race cars, chop wood or program computers? When the results came, I was a good match for journalist, chemist, historian, and astronomer.

And female lawyer.  But not male lawyer.

Hot with rage, I stormed up to the teacher.  “This test thinks I’m a Swish!” I yelled.

With the offending score under his nose, he stumbled around for a few moments and finally came up with an excuse:  "Male and female lawyers draw on different sets of skills. The men are more aggressive,  and the ladies are more nurturing."  He looked up at me with watery wounded eyes.  "It doesn't mean that you have homo...homosexual tendencies or anything."

3. After the Sunday evenings service, the teens gathered for "Afterglow," a sort of party with games, Gospel music, and snacks.  Since it counted as a date, the ten or fifteen minutes between altar call and Afterglow was filled with preening, evaluating, and drama.

Church royalty usually had many invitations to choose from, especially Debbie, who was spoiled, snooty, and arrogant.  So I was surprised when she approached me with three of her cronies in tow, pressed her flat palm hard against my chest, and commanded, “You’re taking me to Afterglow.”

When I refused, she stared open-mouthed for a moment, as if she had never heard such nonsense, and then said "Figures.  I knew he was a Swish."  Her cronies giggled with delight.

4. For a skit in Spanish class, my female partner and I pretended to be parked at a lover’s lane. I took her in my arms, and an accomplice cut the lights, giving us time to muss our hair and clothes as if we had been necking. It wasn’t supposed to be funny, but the class roared.

Later my friend Tom, who would invite me to visit him in Los Angeles two years later, explained: “It was just the idea of you with a girl!”

I thought he meant a Nazarene, forbidden anything past first base, but now I realized that he thought I didn't like girls, so the sight of me pretending to kiss one was hilarious.

5. Craig, who went streaking with me in junior high, invited me to his graduation party.  "There'll be mattresses in the basement," he said, "In case you want to get down with. . .um. . .anybody."

Surely he meant "with a girl." He would be shocked and outraged if I used the mattress to get down with a dude.

Wouldn't he?

But he did say "get down with...um...anybody."

No way was I a Swish!

David Has Explicit Sex with 5,000 Guys (with 8 Nude Photos)

Indianapolis, June 2017

David, the former Baptist minister from San Francisco, is the only guy I know who still uses the telephone instead of texting.

"I've got a couple of weeks off in June," he said.  "I'd like to fly out and visit you on the Plains."

Gulp!  David from San Francisco, on the Plains?  I had enough trouble trying to entertain Yuri, when he visited a couple of years ago!  And David has a requirement that Yuri doesn't....

"Sure, that would be great," I said, trying not to hesitate.   "It's been three years since we saw each other last, and I think it's your turn to visit me.  Except..."

"Except what?"

Except cruising opportunities here on the Plains are limited, especially during the summer, when all of the students have gone home.  Especially when you're 64 years old.  I might not be able to provide enough hookups to meet your quota!

David did't come out until age 43, and vowed to "make up for lost time" by hooking up with at least five guys per day. Five turned out to be too time-consuming, so he reduced his goal to two per day, then one.

But only someone new, that he hadn't been with before, counted.

And he couldn't visit a bath house or sex party and get a whole week's worth done at once. It had to be one hookup or date every day.

In gay communities, it's polite for you to provide the sex partners for out of town visitors.

"Except that I'm scheduled to be visiting my family in Indianapolis the weekend of June 6th," I explain.  "Maybe you could fly in there.  Believe me, there are a lot more fun things to do [more places to cruise] in Indianapolis than in a small town on the Plains!"

"Sure, I'd be happy to meet your family.  And cruise Hoosier farmboys."

Wednesday

I arrive in Indianapolis at noon, visit my mother, and then drive to the airport to pick up David at 3:30.  He's 64 years old, a bald, buffed Daddy with craggy features, a moustache, a tight hairy chest, thick biceps, and extra-thick beneath the belt gifts.  Since I saw him last, he got a pair of nipple rings, which, he said, played havoc with the metal detector at airport security.

We have dinner with Tyler, my ex-boyfriend Fred's 34-year old "son," who arranges a "West Hollywood Party" for us with about the same guests that were at his New Year's Eve Party: his ex-boyfriends, Jesse and Sandoval (both bears in their 40s), and Mike, the 23-year old waiter in the crazy retro restaurant, plus Mike's boyfriend, a soft, passive, dark-skinned student from Bangladesh (who happens to have 6" soft).

David doesn't have a type: young or old, fat or thin, if you're over 18 and have a penis, he's interested.  Everyone at the party eventually goes down on him (and I get to go down on everyone at the party),  but he doesn't have an orgasm until everyone else leaves, and Tyler and I are double-teaming him (both working on his penis at once).

Quota met.  But that's about everyone I know in Indianapolis.

Thursday

David and I have brunch with Tyler.  Then we visit the gym, the Eiteljorg Museum of Indian Arts, the Indiana State Historical Museum, and the zoo.  We have dinner with my sister and her husband, and then cruise the Waterworks.

It's like an ordinary bathhouse, but with no orgy room.  You have to do everything in the steam room or the shower.  David goes down on a bald bear in his 30s in the shower, while I make the rounds and go down on couple of collegiate twinks.

At 11:00 pm we're finished.  Tyler works until 2:00.  We let ourselves into his apartment and take the guest room.

Quota met.

Friday

I wake up to the sight of Tyler going down on David.  I join in by going down on Tyler.  Then we leave him to sleep a few more hours.  We drive down to Bloomington, to see my old hangouts at Indiana University.

It's been over 30 years since I was a student, but the campus hasn't changed much. We visit Eigenmann Hall, where I met my first open gay men; Ballantine Hall, where Viju and I speculated on whether our professor was gay; the Memorial Union; the Rare Books Library; Wylie House. Then we walk through downtown and have dinner at the Tibetan restaurant.

The Back Door, Bloomington's new "queer bar," is hosting the Limestone Comedy Festival.

Comedy clubs aren't the best place to cruise, but I manage to attracted Jake, a pre-pharmacy student:  early 20s, tall, slim, with short reddish-brown hair, thin lips, smooth chest, and an average size penis, mostly a bottom.  We return to his apartment, where he goes down on David while I'm going down on him.  Then David tops him.

But he doesn't finish; after a few minutes he rolls over and goes to sleep, leaving me to get into the interfemoral position with Jake.  I guess he has a type after all, and Jake isn't it.

Quota met.

Saturday

I go down on Jake while David watches.  Then we have breakfast and return to Indianapolis to work out.  After visiting my mother, it's time for the annual family barbecue at my nephew's house.

 Joseph didn't realize that David would be coming, and he has set me up on a date for Saturday night!  Ravi, a very muscular grad student in Central Asian Languages.

"That's ok," David says.  "Just drop me off at Tyler's apartment.  I've got some books to read, and I'm binge watching Orange is the New Black on Netflix."

"On Saturday night?  Are you sure you don't want to come out with us?"

"Absolutely!  You have fun.  Anyway, Tyler will be home at midnight to keep my bed warm."

But...your goal of being with a new guy every day?  

I spend the date worrying about whether David is sick, or angry with me.  After dinner and cruising, I bring Ravi home to "share"  -- rather unusual on a first date, but I don't want things to be weird with David.  But he's already asleep in Tyler's arms, so we take the guest room.

Quota not met.

Sunday

Tyler joins us for sharing in the morning; David does not.  But he seems fine for church, Sunday dinner at my mother's house, and the Brown County Antique Mall with my sister and brother-in law.

Afterwards we have dinner with Tyler and visit the Gay Men's Club Indianapolis, a weekly sex party.  I go down on a cute twink named Len, and a couple of other guys.  David just watches!

Then we return to Tyler's apartment and fall asleep in his bed.  Tyler and I make out for awhile and then do interfemoral, but David just falls asleep.

Quota not met!

Monday

I'm running out of cruise ideas.  Maybe David could work some of his magic: four years ago, when he visited me in Philadelphia, he hooked up with 15 guys in 24 hours!

We visit Splash Mountain to look at the beefcake, but pick no one up.  We have dinner with my nephew and his wife, and then cruise at the Metro, the gay bar in downtown Indianapolis.  But David wants to leave at 9:00, before it gets crowded.   Tyler gets home from work at midnight and joins us in the guest room, but David is already asleep.

Quota not met.

Tuesday

"It's our last night day in Indianapolis," I say.  "We should do something fun.  How about inviting a guy from Grindr over for a four-way?"

"Let's have dinner and then stay in for the evening," David says.  "I have an early flight."

Ok, I can't restrain myself anymore.  "What about your quota?  A new guy every day, 365 per year, making up for lost time? Goal of 5,000 hookups?"

He smiles.  "Oh, that.  Well, you see, Boomer, as you get older, sex just becomes less important.  It's still enjoyable, but it's not always necessary.  Sometimes I just want to watch, or cuddle, and sometimes I'm not in the mood at all.  I'd rather go to bed with a good book."  He puts his arm around me.  "Anyway, I came here to see you, not get laid."

Wednesday 

We wake up at 4:00 to get David to the airport by 7:00.  Tyler got home at 2:00 am, so we're planning to let him sleep.  But as we pass his room, he calls, "Hey, I brought you a going away present."

He turns on the light.  There's a slim guy lying in bed next to him: short hair, beard, very hairy chest, what they call an "otter."  He smiles. "Which of you is David?"

Quota met. 


See also: My New Year's Eve Party with the Small-Town Track Star;  David Hooks Up with 15 Guys in 24 Hours; Joseph Sets Me Up on a Date

My First Kiss, from Greg the Boy Vampire

Rock Island, October 1969

I'm pretty sure that I kissed the boy next door when we got married  in the first grade, but it was a purely ritualistic kiss, necessary to seal our bond.  My first unscripted kiss was in the fall of 1969, in fourth grade.  But not with my boyfriend Bill

I used to rush home from school to catch most of Dark Shadows (1966-71), the Gothic soap opera about tortured vampire Barnabas Collins. Bill didn't like it -- he only liked science fiction -- so he would sit in the bedroom reading comic books until it was time for Cartoon Showboat, or else come over after.  So I invited Greg, a fourth grader who was taller than me, with brown hair and braces, well-built but preternaturally pale, as if he had never been in the sun.

Greg liked science, like Bill and me, but he was also a fan of the paranormal: haunted houses, Bigfoot, UFOs, fairies, demons.  He had a painting of Lucifer falling from heaven on his bedroom wall.

He first introduced me to Greek mythology by lending me one of his books.  I remember a picture of a hairy satyr with goat legs and horns, his arms wrapped around a muscular teenager who was playing a five-reeded flute. They were both naked. (I think it was this famous statue of Pan and Daphnis.)

One day Greg and I were watching Dark Shadows alone -- Bill was coming over later -- when suddenly he jumped up and ran into the bathroom. He returned with a bath towel tied around his neck like a cloak. He raised his arms like vampire claws and exclaimed “I am Barnabas Collins!"

"You'd better be!" I said.  "If my mom catches you with that towel, you're dead!"

"I am a vampire!" Greg continued.  "See my fangs?"  He opened his mouth to reveal sharp chiseled canines.

Fake fangs! I thought. He must have gotten them from the Dark Shadows game, which came with a set of "real' Barnabas fangs. But they looked real.

“If you’re a vampire, why can you go out in the daytime?” I said, trying to play along, but also somewhat disturbed. Part of me was wondering if Greg really could be a vampire.

“Barnabas goes out in the daytime!” Greg said in an impatient tone. Vampires aren’t magic! They just suck blood.” He flounced atop me and knelt on my lap. “I’m going to suck your blood right now!”



Before I could protest, Greg’s mouth was clamped down against my neck. I felt his lips, the hard plastic of the fangs, his tongue -- and shoved him roughly aside.  "Get lost, Spazz! If you suck my blood, we can’t be friends anymore.”

Pouting, Greg returned to his seat.  “Barnabas sucks Willie’s blood. It doesn’t hurt. It feels groovy – like a kiss!”

“Boys don’t kiss!”

“Sure they do. Like this.” Greg took out his fake fangs, leaned forward and kissed me briefly on the mouth.  It was cool and hard, but still exciting.  My heart was pounding.  

I pushed him away and yelled "Knock it off!"

Apparently discouraged, Greg didn't try to kiss me again, though we continued to be friends until his family moved away, shortly after we visited A Little Bit O'Heaven in sixth grade.

And when I tried to kiss Bill, he always pulled away,  so I got his cheek.  I didn't succeed in kissing anyone on the mouth until junior high.