Hookup with the Waiter at a Christian Restaurant

Plains, April 2015

Restaurants in the Straight World are a gamble.  You never know which are gay friendly, and which are homophobic, until you get there.

Except for the Pizza Ranch.

I ate there for the first time a couple of weeks after I moved to the Plains.

It had an annoying cowboy theme and a gut-sloshing buffet: deep fried chicken, mashed potatoes, fried potatoes, chicken wings, bacon pizza, sausage pizza, taco pizza, and dessert pizza with frozen custard.

The "salad bar" consisted of macaroni salad, coleslaw, pudding, and a few paltry carrots and cucumbers.

The other patrons were all obese heterosexual couples with passles of kids.

All were obese.  Every last one of them.

And it was openly Christian.  Bible verses on the walls, Christian music for sale at the front counter, a prominently posted Mission Statement:  “To glorify God by positively impacting the world."

By serving taco pizza and deep-fried chicken?

Its website doesn't say a lot about pizza, but it does offer resources on godly marriage, and spiritual discipleship, and a place where you can submit a prayer request.

Homophobic groups from Focus on Family to Mike Huckabee supporters hold their rallies there.

The only highlight was the wait staff, who were there mostly to bus tables.  They were all male -- rare for servers on the Plains -- teenage and college-age boys -- and incredibly cute.

There were photos of the staff members who weren't there, engaging in wholesome activities like singing, playing a violin, playing football, fishing, and...um...just posing in a studly fashion.

Surely they're hired for their hotness, I thought.  This is a male version of Hooters.

That thought might not be far from the truth.  In 2001, co-founder Lawrence Vander Esch, the founder, was sentenced to 10 years in prison in 2001 for sexually assaulting his male employees.  He fondled them and persuaded them to donate sperm samples for "medical research." While he watched. (He is no longer mentioned on the website.)

The hotness of the staff almost made up for the deplorably unhealthy food and deplorably fundamentalist ambiance.  I've been persuaded to return several times by gay friends, who usually say things like "Who cares about their politics, when the eye candy is so incredible?"

 Besides, it's rather fun to go undercover, mimicking their language and demeanor, knowing that if the staff and other patrons found out about me, they would be shocked.  They would either run from the restaurant in terror or pull out a Bible and start screaming about Leviticus.

Oscar Wilde called it "feasting with panthers."  One false move, and you're history.  The deception is the excitement.

One day in the spring of 2015, I wondered, How far can I go without being discovered?

I didn't want to actually get outed, and be banned from the nightly hunk fest for life -- or worse, rile the fundamentalists so much -- Imagine!  A sodomite in this holy pizza restaurant! -- that they would move from screaming to punching and kicking.

But how close could I get to the edge?





Experiment 1: Come with a guy.

I brought Chad, a regular at the M4M Parties.  We loaded up on the least-greasy pizza we could find, cucumber slices, and carrots, and sat in one of the booths under Wild West wagon train mural.

No stares, no snickers.  Since you pay in advance, there wasn't even a question of "Separate or together?"

Experiment 2: Discuss gay topics at the table.

"So, I had a date with Scott the theater major last week."

"How did that go?"

"Oh, he's super-hot, but we don't have a lot in common."

"Yeah, you can't always judge by how hot the guy is."

Nothing.

Experiment 3: Hold hands under the table.

Nothing.

Experiment 4: Wear a gay pride t-shirt.

I didn't want to wear it while paying, or I wouldn't be let in at all.  So I wore a black button-down shirt over it, and unbuttoned when we started hitting the pizza buffet.

Jackpot.

Stares, gasps, pointing mumbled conversations.  The wait staff kept running into the back to get their coworkers to come out and look.  There were several people at the pizza buffet, but when I approached they suddenly decided they didn't want pizza and hurried off.

I spent extra time at the pizza and salad bar, then returned to my booth.

Suddenly one of the wait staff approached.  College-aged, light brown hair, thin, pale skin with two moles on his neck like vampire bites, handsome, smiling.  "Pardon me, sir, may I join you?"

This was it!  I was going to get screamed at!

Without waiting for an answer, he sat across from me and pulled a small New Testament from his pocket.

Bring it on!  I can argue verse by verse, in the original Greek!

"I've seen you here before.  You're so hot!  Where do you work out?"

WTF?  "Um...campus gym and the YMCA, depending on the day," I said, staring, clueless.

"I've been wanting to start a weight-lifting program.  With so many gay guys around, getting buffed up would give me a competitive edge, don't you think?"

"Oh, I don't know.  You look like you do all right."

He grinned, fumbling about with his New Testament.  "I wonder if you would be willing to give me a few tips?  I get off at 9:00 tonight.  I'm Willy, by the way."

WTF?

Of course, when we got back to my apartment, we did more than discuss weight training.

Smooth body, into kissing and oral, gigantic uncut Mortadella.

"Pizza Ranch is great," Willy told me.  "They think all gay men are swishy queens who live in San Francisco, so as long as you don't swish, you can get away with murder.  I cruise guys all day long -- coworkers and customers!  But you're the first one who made it this easy by actually wearing a gay t-shirt."

See also: We Hookup with the Waiter at a Mexican Restaurant; I Pick Up a Track Star in Small-Town Illinois; Cruised by the Waiter in a Crazy Retro Restaurant.

The Adonis at the Gay-Friendly Coffee House

Plains, March 2016

Earlier today I was on my way to the gay-friendly coffee house down the hill from my apartment.  Just as I got to the side door, a red car pulled into an empty parking spot, and Adonis jumped out.

Adonis.  The most beautiful mortal on Earth.  Lover of Aphrodite in Greek mth.  The subject of Shakespeare's Venus and Adonis.  The subject of Shelley's Adonais: An Elegy on the Death of John Keats.

Adonis.  Twenties, shorter than me, dirty blond hair, stunningly beautiful face,insouciant smile.  He was wearing a pink button-down shirt,  short sleeved, very thin for March, unbuttoned to reveal a smooth muscular chest and hard biceps.  Blue jeans bulging left. A gold chain around his neck. A gold class ring.

He went inside a moment before me, without waiting and holding the door open.

We stood at the counter together, waiting for the guy in front of us to finish ordering.  There were two baristas: a lesbian teenager named Jane was taking the orders, and a middle-aged woman I'd never seen before was staffing the cash register.

I smiled.  Adonis ignored me.

Yes, you read that right.

A twink ignored me.

I am never ignored by any guy under age 30.  Ever.  They approach constantly.

I can't go on Grindr without getting a chorus of "Hi! Hi! Hi! Hi!"

 I can't get any work done at the gay-friendly coffee house.  The moment I sit down, someone asks to join me.

If they don't approach, they smile shyly.

My favorite ones just stare with a dopey smile and start to bulge.


What was wrong?  Did I have bad breath this afternoon?

He ordered a hazelnut latte with a splash of caramel.

I looked over.  He didn't look back.

Could he be straight?

Only about a third of the patrons of the gay-friendly coffee house are actually gay, so you cruise at your own risk.  Straight guys don't know how to give Attitude.  They don't realize that they are being cruised, so they might give you all the wrong signals, until it is too late, and you have asked them out on a date, or worse yet, tried to kiss them.

Guys who ignore you aren't straight.  They're gay, giving Attitude.

Could it be that Adonis wasn't interested?

I ordered a scone and an orange, to go.  I have a very deep, commanding voice.  Adonis didn't look over.

He went to the cashier, paid, and started chit-chatting with her.

I took off my jacket.  I was wearing a green sweater that gave me a nice v-shaped torso.  That always impresses them.

He laughed at something the middle-aged woman said.  Was he flirting with her?

What's he see an a lady that old? I thought jealously.  Then I realized: I'm that old, too.

Maybe he's not attracted to older guys.

Or maybe I just needed to pile on the wit and charm.

I stood next to him at the cash register and said "Hi."

Ok, lame line, but it usually works.

Adonis glanced at me.  "Oh, sorry."  He backed away and hovered by the creamers, waiting for his order to be done.

Great!  As soon as I paid, I would drop back, stand next to him, and start a conversation.

The cashier slowly and carefully looked for "oranges" on the register pad.

"That's ok.  If you can't find it, I can do without the orange."

"Oh, no problem.  I'm just new, so it's hard to find.  There it is -- 'fruit.'  Do you have a rewards card?"

Sighing, I gave her the number -- my phone number.

"What area code is that?"

"New York.  I lived in Manhattan before I moved out to the Plains," I said, loud enough for Adonis to hear me.  I glanced over -- he was staring into space.

"Oh, were you in the theater?" the cashier asks. "My daughter is a theater major at the University.  Last summer we went out to Cooperstown for the Glimmerglass Opera Festival.  She loved it!"

"Yeah, it's um....great."

His order was up.  He took it and went back to the creamers and fumbled about.

Maybe he would sit down, and then I could join him.

"My son did, too.  Well, not the theater so much.  He was more interested in the Baseball Hall of Fame."

Was she flirting with me?

There were several cute guys in the coffee house, mostly college students working on papers.  One of them, a very muscular guy in a white muscle shirt, grinned at me.  Has he been watching the debacle?

"I'm a professor at the University," I said, a last ditch effort to impress Adonis.  It didn't.  He loped through the door.

"Oh, how exciting.  My son..."

Enough about your son!  I thought as I watched Adonis vanish forever.

My order was up a moment later.  I grabbed the scone, put the orange in my pocket, and left through the side door.

Adonis was sitting at one of the outdoor tables.  He must be freezing, I thought.

"Hi!" he said brightly.

"Um...hi."  I walked over.

He moved over and motioned to a place beside him, not across from him.  "I'm Jason."

"Boomer."

"Nice nickname.  You do have a booming voice."

"Thanks."  Bewildered, I sat down.  He brushed my knee under the table.

"Um...I was trying to get your attention inside, but you looked like you were ignoring me."

He laughed.  "Well, what did you expect?  I couldn't really try to pick you up in front of my mother, could I?"

His mother was the cashier?  

That's a new one.

We haven't gotten together yet, but here's a picture to tide you over.

See also: Yuri and the Coffee Drinker; My Date with a Teenage Boy and His Mom

Hooking Up with only a Sausage Picture

Plains, March 2016

Last week I was sick with the stomach flu, and spent 3 days in my apartment, binge watching Fargo and eating toast.  On the 4th day I was well enough to go back to the gym, lift weights, and have lunch in a restaurant.  On the 5th day I was anxious to get out and jog and see the world again, but I woke up to 3 inches of snow on the ground.  On March 1st.

I couldn't run in this!  I couldn't even go out!  My hiking shoes were in the office.  I'd be sliding all over.

Another day in the apartment.  The wall were starting to close in.

Who can get bored, with a computer?  You can walk the streets of Budapest on Google Maps, take a virtual tour of the Guggenheim, see all the ancient cuneiform tablets ever dug up, translate Armenian into Dutch, watch youtube videos about the World's Worst Cartoons, research your great-grandmother's family tree, read old comics from 1896 New York World, and download as many pictures of naked guys as your hard drive can hold.

Well, I was getting heartily bored.

Time for a boredom-hookup.

I went onto a KIK group that my ex-student Eli told me about.  Very basic profile, a name and an icon, typically your penis.  No face, no height and weight, no profile describing your personality and listing your favorite music groups.  Of course, you can ask all that during chat, but what if you didn't?

Could you choose a favorable hookup just on the basis of his penis?

Here are the pics of the 8 guys online and looking for hookups.  Which 4 would you choose?





























I eliminated 2, 3, 4, and 7

2.  Lying down, sleazy.
3.  Close up, probably trying to hide the size, odd coloration.
4.  The penis is fine, but not the hand attached, or the glimpse of feminine underwear.
7.  Nicely curved, but very pasty legs, not very athletic.

That left:

1. Small, shaved, probably gay (bi guys don't usually shave there).
5.  Thick legs, must be a chubby bear.
6.  T-shirt and blue shorts visible, probably older.
8. Completely nude, hint of muscle. Bodybuilder.

Did my predictions match the guy who walked through the door?

1. Yes. A handsome, bearded guy in his 30s with a tight physique, a hairy chest.  Average sized, but very easily aroused.  Into kissing and oral.

5.  No.  Not chubby at all, a slim businessman on his lunch break, with glasses and curly black hair.  He wouldn't take his shirt off.  Oral bottom.  Dud.

6. No. Not older!  A Cute Young Thing taking a smartphone photo in his parents' bathroom.  I had to card him to make sure he was legal.  Very fey, with that world-weary, jaded look guys get when they grow up with constant homophobic harassment. Bratwurst.  Dud.

8. Yes.  Jackpot!  Smooth, muscular collegiate jock with a baby face, nice biceps, and an uncut Bratwurst.  Into kissing and oral.

I was wrong on almost all counts, and only got a 50% positive hookup rate by sheer chance.

Apparently you need more than a sausage pic to ensure a positive hookup.

Later I went back and asked for the photos of the guys I didn't choose.

More after the break