Sunday, April 23, 2023

The Huber Heights Horror, or The Worst Hookup in Ohio History

Huber Heights, Ohio, November 2005

I still cringe just thinking about it.

Everybody was closeted in Dayton, so you spent a lot of time in online chatrooms, cruising for hookups, arrangements, friends with benefits, bondage boys, and maybe, occasionally, a real, actual date.

So I got used to online profile exaggerations: they're really 5 years older, 20 lbs heavier, and 2 inches smaller beneath the belt.

But really...

Brandon: 23, blond, slim swimmer's build, 8" uncut.  

We talked online for over an hour, about movies, tv, art, literature.  We had everything in common.  I felt an immediate emotional connection.  I was going to ask him out to dinner, but then he said, "Why don't you come over tonight?"

Well, it nearly midnight. I was falling asleep.  What kind of date could we have?

But he insisted.   I suggested that we cuddle on the couch while exchanging coming-out stories, then spend the night together and go out for brunch the next day, a good old fashioned West Hollywood "date."

"Sounds great!" he said.  "Come on over."

" don't have any parents or straight roommates hovering around, do you?"

"Oh, no, I live alone."

So I showered, changed clothes, and headed out the door at 12:30 am.

Brandon lived in Huber Heights, a ritzy suburb on the north side of Dayton, 15 miles from Fairborn. Down two deserted midnight highways.  Then a crazy maze of subdivisions with inadequate street signs.

Finally, at nearly 1:30 am, I pulled into the driveway of his nondescript suburban house.  

I walked shivering in the night chill across the front yard and rang the doorbell.  It seemed extremely loud.

Brandon's father answered.

At least, it looked like Brandon's father. 

23?  Try 43.  

Blond? grey and red.

Slim swimmer's build?  Husky bear.


And by the way, his name wasn't actually Brandon, it was Keith.  He just picked Brandon as a screen name because it sounded more youthful.

I had no objection to guys in their 40s , or to husky bears.    But try for a little less deception!

Still, I drove all the way out here, and we had everything in common. Maybe he was just self-conscious about his age and weight.

We could still cuddle on the couch, then spend the night together, then have brunch in the morning, right?

Brandon took me into the living room and sat me down on the couch without offering any beverages or snacks.  He unzipped and pulled his cock out.

Wait -- what about cuddling and coming out stories?

Plus -- another deception -- nothing like 8".  Maybe 5"

"Um...couldn't we do some preliminaries first?" I asked.

"Sorry -- it's just that I don't have very much time."

Not very much time?

But...but...what about spending the night?

" I have to get up early.  I in to work."

He grabbed my head and pushed it down. Ok, the evening wouldn't be a total loss.

I  went down on him.

And kept going and going and going.  Brandon/Keith moaned and groaned, but never came close to finishing.  Finally I said "Ok, this isn't going to happen!"

"I guess I'm a little tired.  It's past my bedtime.  But thanks for coming over."

I left and drove home, arriving at 3:00 am.

Let's recap: 

I drove an hour in freezing cold in the middle of the night to meet a guy who lied about everything, who didn't offer any of the basic courtesies of a date, or even a hookup, for a sexual act that was purely one-sided, no reciprocation, no kissing, and didn't even end with a payoff.

A week or so later, I was back in the same online chatroom, and Brandon/Keith instant messaged me.

"I had such a wonderful time with you!  We should get together again!"


This guy has no connection to the story.  I just need something to take my mind off the Huber Heights Horror.

See also: Ricky with a Y; Remy the Jerk


  1. I am originally from Ohio and I was wondering if you ever heard of guy John from Dayton? I don't think John was his real name and the photo's he sent I don't think they were of him. He used to talk to me on a website and email, back around 1997-1998, he would say he wanted to meet, but would never show up, and said his family had a place at Put In Bay. The photo's he sent me and had on line were of a handsome butt blonde guy. Just wondering if you new of him?

    1. Sorry, the only John I remember in Dayton is an older guy, not blond, who went to the M4M Parties. I don't remember the Huber Heights Horror's actual name, but he said he was 23 in 2005, so in 1997-98 he would have been a teenager.

    2. He said he was 23, so in 1997-1998, he'd say he was 16 while being 36.

      I'm bi, and half the time, I'm thinking "Why can't I be as honest with women as I am with men? Just get all my flaws and perceived flaws out in the open before the first date." (Especially since some straight women and gay men both still have issues with bi men.) Then I remember every gay personal ad that lied to me, and, wow, those are the three biggies.

    3. Regarding Dayton (or any small town) being so closeted, I imagine a lot of it was also Reagan-Bush-Clinton-Bush. The national Zeitgeist was very homophobic, albeit with a generation gap. (Xers and millennials were far less homophobic than boomers and older.) Recall that this was the era of don't ask, don't tell and DOMA.

      Even millennials had their own ignorance, related to "what is sex?"

      Venture ten feet outside of West Hollywood or Greenwich Village or Church and Wellesley (Canada wasn't immune.) and, same thing.

      Things have changed. Shit, now I have to explain to zoomers that no, turning down a date with someone of the wrong gender isn't a sign of bigotry. Generation α is going to swing back to Handmaid's Tale at this rate. Or is just going to have weekly orgies in the town square.

    4. Right, I didn't think that in 2005 he was probably about 40, so in 1997-98 he would be probably early 30s. Age, waistline, and cock size are three things guys always lie about. I've lied about my age so often that when I really need to know it, like at the doctor's office, I can't remember. When I collapsed at a coffee house, the paramedics who arrived kept asking for my age, and when I couldn't remember, they thought I was delirious.

    5. The curse of all liars...

      Delirium is interesting. I recently asked an old lady who was president and she said "Not who I voted for! Lousy New York landlord." Yep, totally lucid.

  2. That comes nowhere near my worst date.

    1. I had a worse one in Florida, involving alligators and meth heads.

    2. My cousin married a heroin addict when he lived in Florida. They had a daughter before she got into heroin. At any rate, after the divorce, her creditors came to collect.

      He ended up getting custody. Let's understand, though: Mafia connections and heroin addiction, two things children should absolutely never be in the same county as, were required to be "worse than being queer". (He's bi.) I'd say "damn Southern judges", but at the time, we can't blame the South alone, and the rest of the country only somewhat accepts any variation of any sort when they have use for you.



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