In Search of Australian Aboriginal Men

Brisbane, Australia, July 2002

In 1986, I followed an Australian cowboy to his home on Kangaroo Island, with only the briefest of layovers in Sidney before going on to visit Alan in Japan.

This summer, same problem: my conference is in Brisbane, and I don't have the time or money to spend more than two days in Sydney.

Still, a week in Australia!  A chance to meet Aboriginal men!

Of course, there's nothing wrong with Anglo-Australians (80% of the population), or Chinese or Indian-Australians (8%) of the population).  But I can meet Anglo and Asian guys at home, or in Europe.  When will I be able to meet an Aboriginal Australian again?

Their culture is at least 40,000 years old: they began their migration to the continent during the Middle Paleolithic Era.

Most of the tribes practice so-called "ritualized homosexuality," in which the older men initiate the young men into the community through oral sex.

Initiate, right.

There are 27 language families, with over 100 languages in daily use, as distinct as English and Navajo.

The Wagiman word for "penis" is lagiriny, "tail."

The Ngarluma word for "erection" is jurdu, a cognate of jurdurn, "mountain peak."

Now that I've got to see!

Aboriginal Australians have a distinctive look, with dark-skin, frizzy hair, and broad noses. I couldn't find any nude photos on online bulletin boards (the precursor of blogs), but I imagine they have rather impressive mountain peaks..

They constitute only about 3% of the population, concentrated mostly in the north and the west.  Fortunately, I will be visiting during NAIDOC, a week of celebrations of Aboriginal culture, when many more from the outlying villages will descend upon Brisbane.

Sunday, June 30th

It's a 22 hour flight from Fort Lauderdale to Sydney, with stops in Los Angeles and Fiji, somehow arriving at noon on the same day I left.  I'm too exhausted to do anything on Sunday, but on Monday and Tuesday I visit the Sydney Opera House, the Museum of Contemporary Art, the Jewish Museum, the Sydney Sauna, and a sex club called the Signal.

Wednesday, July 2nd.

An hour and a half flight from Sydney to Brisbane, then a half hour train trip downtown, arriving around 2:00 pm.  I can't afford the Brisbane Hilton, so I am staying at a hip 3-star hotel nearby.

The desk clerk, whose nameplate reads "Chad," smiles professionally.  He's in his early 20s, brown-skinned, with straight hair, a sharp face, and a tight, muscular frame.  I figure he's South Asian, or maybe Polynesian.

"If I can do anything to make your stay more pleasant, let me know.  I'm here every afternoon until 5:00 pm."  Our hands touch as he gives me the key.  "I'm an authority on Brisbane, so if there are any particular sights you are interested in, just ask."

Very friendly bloke.

I check in at the conference, look at some of my literature, and explore downtown a bit.  The opening session last from 7 to 9.  Afterwards I'm too tired to go out.

Thursday, July 3rd.

Conference presentations in the morning and early afternoon, but at 3:00 pm it's time to head out to NAIDOC events and cruise for Aboriginal men.

"Have you been to the Queensland Cultural Centre?" Chad the Desk Clerk asks. "It's on Grey Street, on the other side of the river, just across Victoria Bridge.  A nice walk."

"That's next on my list!" I exclaim.  But first, the "NAIDOC Tea Dance" at the River Plaza on Scott Street.

I've never heard the term "Tea Dance" except in a gay context, so I assume that the River Plaza is a gay bar, with a 4:00 pm Tea Dance where Aussie blokes of all races, sizes, and shapes mingle and hook up.

When I get there, it turns out to be a retirement community.  I read the listing wrong; it's not a "Tea Dance," it's a "Tea" for elderly Aboriginal Australians!

I leave with egg on my face, go back to my hotel, have dinner, and then check my Spartacus Guide for real gay bars and bathhouses.

The Cruise Club, a bar with a dark room is only about 10 blocks away.   Nearly deserted on a Thursday night at 9:00 pm, but I manage to go down on a rather ugly, moustached, greasy-haired bloke who sports an enormous penis, easily a Mortadella, as thick around as a beer can.

He rushes off when he finishes.  I didn't even have a chance to say hello.

Friday, July 4th.

A national holiday back home, but of course not here.  More presentations in the morning.  I cut out at noon and ask Chad the Desk Clerk where I can rent a car.

"Taking a road trip?  I suggest Sandgate.  It's a beautiful seaside village about a half hour north of here.  There's a great place for high tea there, Olga's.  If you can wait until..."

"Thanks, but I've had enough tea for a lifetime!", I exclaim.

Instead I drive through heavy weekend traffic to Toowomba, about 1 1/2 hours west of Brisbane.

It would probably be a very pretty city, full of interesting colonial-era architecture, except that it's mid-winter,  I'm freezing in my light jacket, and I'm starving.  I stop at an outrageously overpriced sushi bar, and i don't even like sushi.

Finally I make it to the NAIDOC event:  a presentation on aboriginal culture at a Lutheran Church.  I'm expecting a vast cathedral packed with hundreds of people.  No -- it's held in the fellowship hall downstairs.  Twenty aboriginal families, a few Anglo members of the congregation, and me, feeling distinctly out of place.

I drive back to town, have dinner at a Korean place, and find a bath house about 2 miles from the hotel.  It's not terribly crowded, but I manage to meet another greasy-haired guy with an enormous penis (they must be a staple in Australia) and  a middle-aged South Asian guy on the downlow.

Later I hook up with the only black guy in the bath house: in his 20s, with frizzy hair, a tight muscular frame, and an uncut nine-incher.  An Aboriginal Australian!

After we kiss for awhile, he throws his legs in the air for me to top him.  Instead I go down on him for a few minutes.

"Are you sure you don't want to f*** me?" he asks.

Wait -- that's an American accent.

I lift up my head.  "Where are you from?"

"Atlanta.  So, how about if I f** you?"


.

Saturday, July 5th.

After the conference presentations in the morning, I drive out to East Brisbane for the last NAIDOC Event on my list, a program of Aboriginal dance at Coorparoo Secondary College (a  high school).

I sit in an auditorium, surrounded by schoolkids and their parents, watching Aboriginal dances performed by little boys.

The dances are interesting, but still -- I feel out of place, and rather guilty, as if I'm perving on the kids.

Afterwards I leave quickly, skipping the refreshments, drop off my rental car, and walk back to my hotel.

Chad the Desk Clerk says "You look like you're not enjoying our great city as much as you should be."

"A bunch of wild goose chases!"

"Well, maybe you need a knowledgeable tour guide.  Are you free tomorrow?  It's my day off, and....?"

Chad is asking me out!

"Um..,actually, I'm getting on a plane back to America tomorrow.  What about tonight?"

He frowns.  "Sorry, I have a family thing tonight.  It's NAIDOC Week, you know.  Got to pay my respects to the elders."

"Huh?"

"I'm Aboriginal -- Turrbal nation. We're the original owners of Meanjin, all the land around Brisbane -- so obviously I could give you an in-depth tour, if you know what I mean."

I've been searching for Aboriginal men all week, and there was a cute, gay Aboriginal guy right here in the hotel!  "Will you be done later?" I ask in a rather desperate tone.  "We could get together then."

"Well, these things run rather late," he says doubtfully, "But we'll see.  Maybe I'll ring you up."

He doesn't ring me up.

See also: In Search of Sex and Languages in South Africa and The Cowboy of Kangaroo Island.

"Why Don't Yah Come Ovah?": Tarik's Hookup with a Ghost

Norfolk, July 2000

Tarik was 32 years old, working as a dietician in a hospital and cruising for older white guys, preferably cops.

Norfolk was a rough town, and rather homophobic, so you had to be careful: a lot of the cops would let you go down on them, then rob you or beat you up.  But there weren't a lot of gay venues other than the bars: he went to the MCC, the gay church, and wrote for Our Own Community Press, the local gay newspaper.

It was at the MCC that he met Mitchy: in his 50s, short, thin, greying, a bit on the femme side  (I have an image of Leslie Jordan), and something of a dollar-dropper (trying to attract guys with an ostentatious display of wealth).  Three minutes into the conversation, he had mentioned that he lived in Linkhorn, the wealthiest neighborhood in Virginia Beach, and that he owned a Rembrandt.  All in a thick Tidewater accent: "Hello theah, deah.  Ahm'm from Linhohn.  Ah own a pictuah by Rembrandt."

Maybe because he grew up poor and a member of the black-supremacist Nation of Islam, Tarik always found topping rich white guys very erotic, so he accepted Mitchy's invitation to "come ovah."

Not a great hookup.  A 45 minute drive, and turns out that Mitchy wasn't into anal; he wanted Tarik to go down on his very small, wrinkled cock, and when that took too long,  "Lick mah balls, deah.  That allus gets me off."

And no reciprocation.  He played with Tarik's cock for a bit, but wouldn't go down on him.

Plus his house was very cold, the Rembrandt was of a woman, there was another picture of a naked woman in the bedroom, he had torch songs playing constantly, and he was a bit racist: "Would you lakh to heah something else?  I know y'all lakh rap..."

But Tarik was not used to being pursued, so when Mitchy called two nights later and asked "Why don't yah come ovah?", he agreed.

More going down on Mitchy's small, wrinkled cock while a naked woman looked down on them and torch songs played, and it was so cold that they had to stay under the covers.  This time, at least, Mitchy went down on Tarik -- badly.

"Deah, ya'll are so big.  Ah can't get mah mouth around it."

Three nights later "Why don't yah cove ovah for dinnah?"

Mitchy served pork chops!  Tarik didn't belong to the Nation of Islam anymore, but he still avoided pork.  He filled up on mashed potatoes and green beans, and went down on Mitch's small cock right at the dining room table, before dessert.

And Mitchy insisted that he spend the night.

This was turning into a full-fledged relationship, except Mitchy never wanted to go out.  Apparently he was too closeted to go to the bars, and the day they met was the only time he attended the MCC.  He hooked up in online chatrooms, and went to First Landing State Park, the outdoor cruising area in Virginia Beach.

Great, an unwanted boyfriend who was in the closet!

Tarik accepted "Why don't yah come ovah?" invitations two or three more times before getting the gumption to say "No.  Sorry, I don't feel like it tonight."

"But deah, I'm horney.  I have needs."

It was always about Mitchy's needs, wasn't it?  "Sorry, I don't feel like it."

"But deah, if you won't come ovah, I'll have to go to the park to meet a fella."

"Do what you want.  I'm not coming over."  Tarik hung up on him.

The next night when he went to the office of Our Own Community press, they were talking about a newspaper article. "Does anyone know if he was gay?  Was it really a bashing incident?"

Mitchy's housekeeper found him dead in his bedroom.  He had been beaten and strangled.  Nothing was taken. The police were baffled, but Tarik figured that he had gone out cruising and propositioned the wrong guy.   

Tarik felt guilty, of course.  If he hadn't said "no" that night...but Mitchy made the decision to pick up rough trade.  He made the decision to stay in the closet.

A few weeks later, Tarik was lying in bed, just starting to doze off, when the phone rang. 
"Hello, deah.  Why don't yah come ovah?"

A prank call? But Tarik had told only a few people about his hookup/dates, and no one about Mitch's signature phrase or thick Tidewater accent.

Mitchy still pestering him for a hookup from beyond the grave? 

See also:
Tarik and the Blue-Eyed Demon

West Hollywood Stories of Gay Celebrity Dates and Hookups

In the gay neighborhoods of West Hollywood and San Francisco, not so much in New York or Florida, everyone had a celebrity dating or hookup story.  Here are the most famous or most believable I've heard.

I'm making no claims about the sexual orientation of any of these celebrities except #1 and #10. Some of the stories are probably exaggerations, a non-romantic lunch becoming a romantic date, a casual meeting becoming a vigorous all-night orgy.  Some are probably pure inventions.

Cesar Romero (1907-1994) 1940s heartthrob and the Joker on the old Batman tv series.  My boyfriend Lane hooked up with him in the early 1990s.  When he told the story, Adam West (Batman) and Burt Ward (Robin) were in the mix.

President Ronald Reagan (1911-2004) He was just a local radio announcer when Oscar, the retired set designer from Des Moines, claims that they dated. The biographical details check out.

Desi Arnaz (1917-1986).  Ricky Ricardo on I Love Lucy.  Cesar Romero claimed that they had a long-term "friend with benefits relationship.

Tony Randall (1920-2004) star of the Odd Couple (1968-1975).  Marcus, the first person I met in West Hollywood, said that they met on the set of Hollywood Squares, and hooked up in a hotel in Beverly Hills.  Marcus was in the industry, and introduced me to several celebrities, including Michael J. Fox and Robin Williams, but there's no evidence that Tony Randall was gay.

Tony Curtis (1925-2010), the movie star who went in drag for Some Like It Hot (1959).   Drake, the leather teddy bear artist of South of Market, claimed to have tricked with him when he was starring in Trapeze (1956), about a circus love triangle.  Tony Curtis was married to women five times, but his androgynous prettyboy looks made him the subject of many gay rumors in the 1950s.

Allen Ginsberg (1926-1997), the gay Beat poet.  Fangorn, aka Dennis, said that his first gay experience was a three way with Ginsberg and Peter Orlovsky.

Dick Sargeant (1930-1994), Cary Grant (1904-1986), and Groucho Marx (1890-1988), all on the same night, in the same bed!  In 1958, when he was a teenage navy recruit, Randall (the bear with the pierced penis) told us that he hooked up with Dick Sargent (future star of Bewitched), who took him to a gay party.  There Groucho and Cary both invited him home.  They compromised.

Pat Boone (1934-).    This doesn't really count as a friend's hookup story, but Randall, the Muscle Bear with the Pierced Penis, told us that he heard about a three way that Pat Boone had with Dick Sargent and a teenage fan.




Richard Chamberlain (1934-)  The now-out star of Shogun (1980) and I competed over Thanh, the Vietnamese grad student, one night at Mugi. Thanh and I dated once, and then became friends.  He immediately sought out Chamberlain for a dinner-and-bedroom date.

Peter Fonda (1940-), actor and political activist.  This is actually a buffed model representing his iconic role in Easy Rider (1969).  Will, the Bondage Boy with the Sweeney Todd fetish, told us that they hooked up at a bath house in Mexico in 1978.  Fonda, who has been married three times, has been the subject of gay rumors.

Sylvester Stallone (1946-).  In Upstate New York, the Satyr claimed that he had a job as a "fluffer" for Stallone during his 1970 porn movie.









David Cassidy (1950-) teen idol and star of The Partridge Family (1970-1974).  My housemate Derek, a former fitness model, told us about a romantic weekend of motorcycling through Wales with him in 1974.  At that time David Cassidy was the most famous pop star in the world.  If it really happened, why is there no news coverage?

Mark Hamill (1951-), the iconic Luke Skywalker of Star Wars (1977).  He's done a lot of theater, too.  He was starring in The Nerd on Broadway in 1987, when Blake the Opera Buff said that they met and went out on several dates.  Hamill is not out, but there has been a lot of speculation about his sexual identity.

Dean Paul Martin (1951-) and Desi Arnaz Jr. (1953-), the sons of Dean Martin and Desi Arnaz, respectively, and two thirds of the boy band Dino, Desi, and Billy.  Cesar Romero claimed that he had a three-way with them in 1971.

Dan Butler (1954-), who played the ultra-macho sports announcer Bulldog on Frazier (1993-2004). Marshall the Virgin dated him several times shortly after we took him to his first Bear Party in 1994.

Kip Noll (1958-2001) the porn star.  My friend Alan, the Pentecostal porn star, worked with him on a film in the early 1980s.  Does it count as a hookup if your sexual activity is part of your job?










Ronald Reagan, Jr. (1958-),  the President's son, estranged from his father, a ballet dancer, who got married very quickly and suspiciously when his father took office -- what were we to think? Half of West Hollywood claimed to have dated him.  My ex Fred claimed that they met at a bathhouse in Chicago during the summer of 1979.

Scott Baio (1960-). Nearly everybody in West Hollywood claimed to have dated "Charles in Charge."

Rob Lowe (1964-), teen idol and brat packer.  Mario, who picked me up at the Different Light Bookstore, worked with him on a tv pilot when they were both teenagers.  According to Mario, they had dinner, went up to Rob's room, and one thing led to another while they were watching Magnum, P.I.

Keanu Reeves (1964-).  The brooding star of the Matrix movies has played gay characters several times, but he had barely begun his career in 1988, when my friends Scott and Will ran into him at the Rage.  They described a wild night that included making out on the beach and skinny-dipping in a pool of a house in Beverly Hills that didn't belong to them.

Luke Perry (1966-2019), star of the teen drama Beverly Hills 90210 (1990-2000).  Remember the Family Guy episode, in which Meg accidentally "outs" him in the school newspaper, and he sues for slander?  My friend Barry, the Colonial Williamsburg boy of Long Island, claimed to have met him while cruising in West Hollywood one night in 1997.  Perry was married with a son at the time, but ok.

Leonardo DiCaprio (1974-), the indy movie star who has played gay characters several times, and receives nearly as many gay rumors as the big boys, Tom Cruise and John Travolta.  Lots of guys claimed to have dated or hooked up with him, but the most believable story came from Farshad, the French Moroccan on my sausage list, who said that they met in Paris in 1995.

Mark-Paul Gosselaar (1974-), star of Saved by the Bell.  He doesn't really count, since it wasn't actually a date: my friend Infinite Chazz claims a hookup that went wrong when MP dumped him for another guy.

Prince Carl Philip of Sweden (1979-).   Zack, the photography student at the Rhode Island School of Design, said that he spent the night with him when they were teenagers, both boarding school students in Connecticut.

Dylan O'Brien (1991-),  star of the Maze Runner movies and the tv series Teen Wolf (2011-).  Jimmy, the Boy Toy of my platonic friends,  told me that they went to high school in Hermosa Beach, California together.  They used to do it in his parents' garage.  This was before I had heard of Dylan O'Brien, so he's an odd person to try to impress me with, and there are some gay rumors.

By the way, the top photo is of model Craig Moody.  He's gay and from Florida, but none of my friends has claimed to have dated him.

Harry Styles (1994-).  Ryan H,, the college track star that I met while driving through small-town Illinois, said that he met Harry Styles of the boy band One Direction in the summer of 2015, and had a rather unsatisfactory three way with him and a silver fox.

See also: Celebrities I've Dated