The Shy Boy at the Bathhouse

January 7th, 2011.  Cleveland, Ohio.

My boyfriend Troy and I are traveling crosscountry from Upstate New York to Indianapolis to visit my relatives.  Cleveland is a convenient halfway point, so we get a room at the Flex Club, which offers a full gym, two swimming pools, a steamroom maze, and a bar downstairs, and bathhouse facilities and hotel rooms upstairs.

7:00 pm

After we check into our room, Troy hits the cruising area, and I go to the gym.  The only other guy there is not particularly muscular, obviously not a gym regular, gamely trying to figure out how to bench press.

I go over and offer to spot him.

His name is Lester.  He's in his 20s, of medium height, unruly black hair, black eyebrows, and sharp features, not handsome but pleasant in a quirky bohemian way,  He has a thin chest, prominent nipples, and nicely rippled abs, plus a soft Southern accent that I find attractive.  He reminds me of my Kentucky Kinfolk.

 I steer him toward the Nautilus machines and demonstrate proper form.

"So, are you from Cleveland?" he asks.

"New York, actually.  I'm just here for the night.  My boyfriend and I have a hotel room upstairs."

"Wow, I just have a locker.  I heard the hotel rooms were nice -- I've never been in one."

"Well, come on up, and I'll give you a tour."

7:30 pm

Before we go upstairs, Lester wants to go to the indoor pool and introduce me to his friends Max and Jason-- rather an odd precaution in the bathhouse.  But ok.  They are college-aged, not particularly muscular but well hung. They grin broadly and hug Lester, as if he has accomplished something spectacular.

All he did was hook up at a bathhouse -- not particularly difficult!

It is a very strange feeling to walk down one of those red-painted, dimly lit bathhouse corridors, with disco music pounding away and guys walking around in towels, open a door, and bam!  You're in a 3-star hotel room with a queen-sized bed, a tv, an alarm clock, and a private bath.

"I like to take things slow," Lester says as I steer him toward the bed.

"Ok, I have plenty of time."  We kiss and fondle, go down on each other, kiss some more.  Eventually he puts his penis -- a very thick Bratwurst -- between my legs and finishes.  I don't finish, wanting to save myself for later in the evening.

Afterwards we cuddle and chat.  Lester grew up fundamentalist in rural Kentucky, attended the homophobic Cedarville University, and didn't come out he was 20.  He transferred to Ohio State, and now he is in law school at Case Western Reserve University.  He's been in one "real" relationship, with an older guy; it lasted for two years, and ended last November.

Ok, well...I was hoping to hook up with some other guys tonight...

He keeps on cuddling.  He's a big fan of Harry Potter, Glee, and The Rocky Horror Picture Show.  I tell him some of my good stories, about my date with Michael J. Fox, the Amazing Invisible Boy, and Cousin George ("only fools wear pajamas").  Eventually I push him down onto me to finish.

He grabs me and holds on tight again.

8:30 pm.

I've been driving all day, and I want to hook up with some other guys tonight....how do I extricate myself from this guy?  I can't just kick him out!

The door opens, and Troy comes in.  After the introductions, he joins us, going down on Lester and me in turn.  Then I get up, leave the two of them cuddling on the bed, and go cruising.  Let Troy kick him out.

10:00 pm.

I return to the room.  Troy and Lester are still there. They must have hit it off!  I join them for another session of Lester's penis between my legs, and we all fall asleep together.







January 8th, 6:00 am.

I get up, eat a power bar and two bananas, run on the treadmill, and return to the room to dress.

7:00 am.

Troy goes off to exercise, leaving Lester and me alone in the room.

"I have to go -- my locker is expiring," he says.  "What are you guys going to do today?"

"Breakfast, then the museums.  Then we're leaving for Indianapolis.  It's about five hours away."

"Great, then you'll be in town for lunch.  Let me take you and Troy to my favorite place.  It's right near the campus.  I'll invite some of my friends."

He writes down the address, kisses me, and leaves.

1:00 pm.

Troy and I spend the morning at the Cleveland Museum of Art, the Museum of Natural History, and the Botanical Garden.  Then we walk to a place called the Jolly Scholar, on the campus of Case Western Reserve.  It's empty on a Saturday morning before classes have started.

Lester arrives with three of his friends, Max and Jason from last night, plus a portly young lady named Michelle.

"So someone finally took pity on our little Lester!" Michelle says, hugging us both in turn.

"We thought he'd never meet anyone...." Jason adds, sliding into the booth next to me.

Lester blushes.  "Guys, knock it off!"

Meet anyone?  "Well, we're not actually dating.  Troy and I are off to Indianapolis after lunch."

"So you mean you just used Lester for his body, with no intention of following through with a relationship?"

"Um...well...."

"Just kidding!"  Jason grabs my knee under the booth.  "That was the whole idea.  Little Lester has only been with a few guys in his whole miserable life."

"...including two years of monotony with that jerk David," Max says.

"So last night we dragged him kicking and screaming to the Flex Club, and told him he couldn't leave until he went down on at least five guys..."

"Or one guy five times..."

"Did you keep a tally?" Michelle asks.

Lester puts his head into his hands.  "Boomer, you took judo.  Make them stop.  Throw them out the window!"

See also: My Kentucky Kinfolk; 10 Bathhouse Boys; and I Get With Every Guy in the Bath House

13 Guys in One Night at Bath House in Cleveland

Cleveland, July 2017

On the way back from New York earlier this week, we stopped in Cleveland.  I wanted to go to the Flex Club, a great gay resort/bath house.  Bob didn't want to go, but he said it was ok if I went by myself.

It's hit and miss.  Sometimes I can wander around the video room, the dark room, the leather room, and the saunas for two hours and get completely ignored by everybody and everything.  Sometimes I'm very popular.

I think of a night at the Flex Club as a success if I meet five guys in two hours.  But the other night, I was with 13!

1. Within a minute of going upstairs to the video room,  I was kissing a red-haired twink with a scrawny body but an enormous Mortadella.

2.That wasn't unusual: I tend to attract twinks.  So I still didn't know if this was going to be a good or bad evening.

A few minutes later, in the dark room, I saw a very handsome, hairy-chested guy in his 30s with someone else, so I joined in.  The second guy left, leaving me with Hairy Chest.  When I got on my knees, I saw that he was wearing lady's panties.  Weird, but a cock is a cock.  About 6".

3-5.  I sat on a bunk in the dark room, and an older black guy approached.  Big cock, one of those giant hernias.  He brought his two friends and "ordered" them to pull it out and let me go down on them.  Nice physiques, big cocks.

6.  A young bear lying on a bunk wanted to kiss and do interfemoral.

7. His friend, a chub in his 40s, joined us.  He went down on me.

8.  I started talking to an older guy in the leather room, and told him I was going to the dark room.  He followed me, but on the way I passed the room of someone I liked better: in his 30s, glasses, smooth chest, enormous penis.  He turned out to be a biology teacher.

More after the break

Time Warp: My Hookup Turns Into a Good Old-Fashioned West Hollywood Trick

In the 1960s and 1970s, when gay men were overcoming years of oppression, they often tricked -- like today's hooking up, but quicker and far more dangerous: you invited the guy home with no preliminary questions, no exchange of phone numbers, no introducing him to your friends, no precautions of any sort.

 It was risky -- you could get robbed or assaulted -- but gay men of that era believed that they were a band of brothers, so no one you invited home could possibly have ill intent.

Tricking fell out of favor during the AIDS crisis of the 1980s, replaced by dating and sharing your friend's boyfriends, and then, in the 2000s, by hooking up, with lots of screening questions and precautionary measures.  No one tricks anymore.

Except last Sunday night, I did.

May 2016

I am traveling back from a trip Upstate to visit Troy and company.

May 26th: Cleveland.  The Flex Club is amazing.  Usually at a bathhouse, you have to work hard to meet two or three guys, but today I meet as many guys as I want.  I am rejected by no one, not even the attitude-studded muscle queens.

May 27th-28th: Indianapolis.  After visiting my parents and sister, I reunite with Ryan, the IUPUI art major who Troy and I met last summer.  We go out to the 501 Eagle, where I am cruised by everyone in sight, from twinks to leathermen to daddies.

"You're really on a roll," Ryan says.  "What's your secret?"

I shrug.  "Well, I get cruised by twinks all the time.  The older guys, I don't know  -- maybe New Kid in Town syndrome?"

May 29th: Rock Island.  My hometown, although I don't have many friends left here.  After a Memorial Day picnic with my brother's family,  I go back to my hotel and get on Grindr.

The twinks all have strict age restrictions:
"No one over 30"
"18 to 25 only"
"Be about my age, please"

Ok, I'm 55 years old, but....I'm a twink magnet.

The older guys:
"Be under 30."
"Prefer young guys."
"You should be 18 but look younger."

Is anybody hooking up in this town?

Age requirement be damned, I start a conversation with a student from Augustana College, my alma mater, an Asian guy majoring in neuroscience.

But when we go from "how much it has changed" to "hookup," he starts with the "cool...cool...cool" responses that mean "Get lost."

But...I'm on a roll...

I change my profile photo from my face to my chest, and send random "hi!" messages to five guys who are reasonably cute and nearby.

Nothing.  Crickets.

Frustrated and angry, I abandon Grindr and put an ad on Craiglist, the bargain basement of hookups.

Within five minutes, I get a response:

"I'm Nick, 26, smooth swimmer's build, hung, DDF, usually a bottom but willing to top."

He sends three photos: face, full body, and penis.  Twink, slim, smooth, weird frizzled hair, three diamond earrings, soul patch, very feminine-looking, not at all my usual type.

With no further preliminaries, I tell him: "Sure, come on over."

We meet in the hotel lobby.  Nick is easy to spot in his gay-pride t-shirt and short white pants with an extra big bulge

He looks completely out of place, like he time warped directly from the Rage in West Hollywood in 1986.  He should be dancing to "Like a Virgin," gossipping about who is taking who to the AIDS Benefit, and giving me major Attitude.

We chat.  Nick just broke up with his boyfriend.  They were together for three years, and Nick still loves the guy, but he doesn't want to do anything but play video games all day.  He doesn't do any housework.  He won't get a job.  And every time they have an argument, he runs back to his Mommy and Daddy.  He's 21 years old, time for him to grow up!

Time warp! I had conversations like this all the time in the 1980s.

We go up to my room, sit on the bed, and kiss and fondle.  He becomes aroused instantly, stands, and drops his pants.  A long, thin penis sticks straight out.  I go down on him, while he murmurs "Do me...do me..."  Then he goes down on me until I finish.

Just the sort of things we did in West Hollywood in the 1980s.

Nick reaches down to his pants on the floor and pulls out a condom.   I refuse anal.  So he does interfemoral while we kiss -- he's very into kissing.

He finishes with a high-pitched shriek that must have aroused the neighbors.

Afterwards we cuddle for a bit, and Nick complains about his ex-boyfriend some more. Then he gets up and throws his clothes on, while I watch carefully to make sure my wallet and cell phone don't vanish.

He says "Thanks, bye" and leaves.  We don't exchange phone numbers.

I sit on the bed, amazed.  This wasn't a hookup, it was a  good old-fashioned 1980s West Hollywood trick.

Except in Rock Island, on Memorial Day 2016.

I wouldn't believe it myself, but I have the photos.

May 30th:

 I check Grindr on my cell phone. Last night after Nick left and I went to bed, the five guys I said "hi" to all responded.