Sunday, July 26, 2020

Anal and Astrology in Hell-fer-Sartain, Texas

Hell-fer-Sartain, Texas, September 1984

I'm 23 years old, just graduated from Indiana University with my M.A. in English, with a new job at a state college in Hell-fer-Sartain, Texas.

I hate the bugs, the humidity, the rednecks, the country-western music, the hour-long drive to the nearest gay bar.

But I like the men: they grow them BIG in Texas.

I take out an ad in the Montrose Voice, trying to find guys for dating and romance.  They charge by the letter, so:

GWM, 23, 6'0, 180, musc, into bks, tv, f/sf, mus, dts only.

Who knew that some of these acronyms are used for fetishes?

After a few rather inappropriate responses, I pay for the extra vowels: into books, television, fantasy/ science fiction, muscles. Dates only.  

A few more inappropriate responses, including a guy who just breathes heavily into the phone, and then Raymond: a medical technician, 32 years old, from Detroit, in Texas five years. Reads science fiction.  Favorite authors: Asimov, Heinlein, LeGuin.

Sounds good, but what does he look like?  Newspaper ads don't include photos.

Black, tall, slim, bearded, hairy chest, gym-toned, .

I've not much into tall or slim guys, or beards, but I'm definitely into black guys!

We meet at Mother's in the Montrose for "drinks."  Raymond is attractive, with a round open face and a disarming smile.

 He turns me off by drinking three beers and flirting with the waiter, but this is my first date in Texas, so I can't complain.

He's into astrology.  We're Taurus and Scorpio,  opposite sides of the zodiac.  Explosively passionate in the bedroom.

I'm dubious.  Scorpios are dark, aggressive, easily angered, often melancholy.  We need a laid-back, amiable sign.  My first boyfriend Fred was a Virgo, and Jimmy the Bodybuilder on Crutches was a Libra.

But we both have the Sun in the Third House, Raymond points out.  We both need lots of physical activity, and we're endlessly curious, eager to try new things.  We could have a very fulfilling relationship.

Next we browse at Wilde and Stein, the gay bookstore, then dinner at a Mexican place, where Raymond drinks another beer and flirts with the waiter.

And back to Raymond's apartment in the Montrose.  We sit on the couch kissing, and I gradually slip off his shirt and unbutton his pants.

Huge cut Mortadella! He can put two hands around that thing and still have two inchs to spare!

I go down on him as well as I can, choking a bit, while he moans.  Then he says "Come on, let's go into the bedroom."

We fall onto the bed, kissing,  He pushes down my throat while I am lying on my back and thrusts while playing with my penis.  Then suddenly he pulls away and bounces off the bed.

I look up, Raymond is at the dresser, rolling a condom over his Mortadella.

"I always use condoms.  You don't mind, do you?"  Without waiting for an answer, he throws my legs in the air.  I feel a burst of pain as a giant baseball bat pushes into me.

"'re too big!" I exclaim.

He pulls out.  "There's no such thing.  It's just a matter of relaxing your muscles. Here, I'll open you up a little."  A finger with a sharp nail goes inside me and feels around.  "Ready?"  A burst of pain again.

I pull away.  "I'm not really into Greek."

"But you're a Scorpio.  All Scorpios are into Greek."

"Um...I'm not really into astrology, either."

He squeezes my buttocks.  "You'll see.  You're a Scorpio.  Once I'm inside, you'll like it.  And I can keep going for hours."

He pushes inside again.  This guy is about two inches longer and way thicker than Fred was!  I yell out in pain as he begins to thrust, and finally yell "Get off!  Get off!"

He pulls away.  "Ok, then, just go down on me, alright?"

I make him go into the bathroom and wash off first.

Of course, there's no second date.

A few days later, I get a phone call from Sayid, who explains that Raymond gave him my number.  He's 26 years old, a professional dancer -- "and a Virgo."  A soft, sweet, laidback sign.

"It's hard to talk over the phone," he says.  "Can I come up?"

He has a rather feminine, high-pitched voice, but I haven't been with many guys in Texas, so ok.

An hour later, he appears at my door: black, rather light skinned, tall, bearded, but very muscular, with thick biceps and six-pack abs.  We sit on the couch, drinking sodas and talking -- he was raised Baptist in rural Alabama, but now doesn't hae any particular religion, although he's "very spiritual."

We kiss, and I run my mouth over his chest and abs, and unzip his pants.  He has a manageable Bratwurst, uncut, with shaved pubic hair.

We move onto the floor and get into the 69 position.

Finally someone paying attention to my beneath-the-belt gifts!

After awhile, he jumps up and pulls me into the bedroom.  He leaps onto the bed and turns over onto his stomach.

I turn him back onto his back and go down on him until he finishes.

"That was nice," he says, "But don't you want to do me?"

"Um...I just did," I say, confused.

"But you're a Scorpio.   All Scorpios are into Greek."

He turns over onto his stomach again.  "Take me!  Take me!  Do whatever you want with me!"

Of course, there's no second hookup.

See also: Topped for the First Time; Hank's Book Collection; How Much Does Astrology Know about Your Sex Life?


  1. I'm counting Sayid as a hookup, since we never actually left my apartment.

  2. Man, people in the 80s took astrology seriously? *remembers who was president* Oh, right.

    1. You might not take it seriously, but you knew about it. Discussion of your signs was an ordinary part of many first dates.

  3. Was this a common thing in the 80s? Because that first one is a rape, fairly open and shut.

    1. Pretty common. You never discussed favored positions in advance, since you were maintaining the myth that the sex was spontaneous, not planned in advance. So a lot of times guys assumed that I would be into anal. Usually they thought I would be a top,so they threw their legs in the air and waited expectantly. They assumed that I was a bottom a few times, and threw my legs in the air without asking.

    2. And let me guess: Can't talK about it and give orange juice lady ammo, right?



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