The 10 Ugliest Well-Hung Guys

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The "Late for Class" Dream and Oral Sex 101

I have a recurring dream where I'm late for class, but I can't find the classroom.  I run across an unfamiliar campus, try to find a recognizable landmark, rush down the corridors of random buildings, becoming more and more anxious.

I was just there yesterday!  Why does everything look so strange?  I've never seen that coffee kiosk before -- maybe I took a wrong turn, and I'm in the Science Building?  Maybe if I go through this door -- no, it's an art studio....

The clock is ticking.  Class should have started by now. I'm late!

Sometimes I rushed out of the house without getting dressed, so I'm running across the campus naked.

Or I have to push my way through absurdly crowded hallways as the clock ticks and I start to panic.

Or it's the near end of the semester.  Suddenly I realize that I've forgotten to go to the class for the last month!  I run out of my office and down the hallway, but I can't find my way...

 Or I can't find my lecture notes or powerpoint slides, and I've never taught this subject before....

It's always the same class, "Drugs and Alcohol in American Society," which I've taught several times without incident.

"School anxiety," about being late for class or unprepared for a test, is the third most common type of dream, appearing in 73% of research respondents in a University of Montreal study.  The overlapping "late anxiety" is the fifth most common type.

Many people think that these dreams are related to real-life anxieties, but the images are too similar, appearing across countless life situations.  Scientists think that they're probably related to the brain trying to make a coherent narrative out of the neurological changes during REM sleep, and falling back on memories of adolescence, in my case transferred to my job.

Whatever these "late for class" dreams may signify, they're annoying.  Afterwards I have a vague sense of anxiety that lasts through the day.

When I told my friend Gabe about the dreams, he suggested "lucid dreaming," a technique that allows you to orchestrate what goes on in your dreams by rehearsing them in advance.

Before going to sleep, you visualize the dream as you recall it, but make whatever changes you want.  Imagine that the hallways are familiar, for instance, or that you're going somewhere pleasant.

Last night I gave it a try.  I visualized that was walking across the dark, warm, comfortable campus of a clothing-optional college, on my way to teach Oral Sex 101: Oral Sex for Gay and Bi Men.

It was fun making up the syllabus:

1. The physiology and psychology of oral sex.
2. The history of oral sex from the Ancient World to the present.
3. The oral sodomy laws and the limits of jurisprudence.
4. The philology of slang terms.
5. Oral sex in literature, art, and film.
6. The sociological importance of oral sex in contemporary gay communities.
7. Roles and positions.
8. Techniques.

I imagined that today the students would be delivering their research presentations:

"A Comparative Study of the Erotic Pleasure Received through Oral and Anal Acts."
"How Big is Too Big?  Size and Satisfaction for the Oral Bottom."
"Are Big Men More Likely to be Oral Tops?"
"How Many Straight Men Will Agree to Oral Sex with a Gay Man?"
"An Analysis of the Top's Verbal and Non-Verbal Signals During Oral Sex"
"69 as an Act of Political Resistance"

Making up all of that was fun, too, but would it transfer into a more pleasant "late for class" dream?

Eventually I drifted off to sleep.



I had the "late to class" dream again, but my anxiety level didn't go down.  I was even more panicked than before, running wildly down the unfamiliar corridors, desperate to get to that classroom.

I really wanted to see those student presentations.

See also: That Bathhouse in West Hollywood; The Ins and Outs of Oral Sex; The Precognitive Dream about the Boy with the Bratwurst

A Twink Parade at the Gym

Plains, October 2017

I don't know what's going on.  Yesterday an amazing success rate in hooking up on the world's worst hookup venue, and today a cruising paradise in the world's worst place for cruising.

Gay gyms are good for cruising: lots of pumped-up guys trying to attract attention and phone numbers.

Straight world gyms, not so much: straight men get insulted by the idea that another guy might think they're hot, so they are constantly checking to make sure no one is looking at them.  Any random glance is perceived as a threat, so cruising has to be subtle.  It's easier just to let it go altogether.

The YMCA on the Plains doesn't usually have much to offer anyway: a lot of old, out of shape heteros who spend too much time in the sauna discussing sports matches and the grandchildren's college plans, until they turn into red, sweat-soaked out of shape heteros.

Hardly anyone under age 70, except for groups of little kids -- the ones who have to sign the "under 15" list to work out.

They are cruisy., for some reason, but who wants some 14-year old following him around with a goofy grin on his face?  Seriously, what does he expect me to do, invite him out to dinner?

 But today the stars must have been aligned just right, or maybe karma was rewarding me for passing up that pie at lunchtime, because the staid old YMCA suddenly became a cruising paradise.  Wall to wall hot guys in their 20s and 30s, with as much face-crotch-face glancing as at the Faultline ten minutes before closing.

1, Reddish brown hair, long face, very thin, wearing a t-shirt from a school I had never hard of.  Constant eye contact.

2. Black, thin, diamond earring, sort of fey. Kept watching me on the incline press.  Later I worked on a pulldown and got a good view of him on the exercise bike.  What he had in his pants kept bouncing up and down.

I got a "Hi, how's it going" from him.

3.  Buffed guy in his late 30s, very hairy chest, big biceps, military haircut, working out with a college boy.

"Is that your son?" I asked.

"I'm his coach.  We're in town for a game with the local university."  He mentions a college in Minnesota, about 200 miles away.  That explains the twink parade.

4. Time to make a selection and seal the deal.  I spy a tall, thin guy in his mid 20s with thick brown hair, a handsome face, not much of a physique, wearing a "We are liberal arts" t-shirt.

"What liberal art are you studying?" I ask.  "I majored in modern languages."

He gives me the standard face-crotch-face glance.  "Um...actually it's the College of Liberal Arts at ___ university.  They were having a fundraiser.  I'm a health science major."

"Oh, ok."  I am disappointed -- I wanted to go out with a nice history or philosophy major.  On to the next guy!

"But...I have nothing against the liberal arts," he adds, doing another set of calf raises.  "I've taken classes in languages and philosophy.  This semester I'm taking African Culture and Civilization.  It's just hard to find a job with something like that.  What work do you do?"

"Professor at your rival university."

"Cool!  I'll look for you in the stands tomorrow afternoon."

"Oh, I can't make the game, I'm busy.  But afterwards, if you're not going home right away,  I know a place that serves Ethiopian food.  You can report back to your African Culture Class."



His name is Hunter, by the way.   I'll report on the date.

But karma wasn't finished with me yet.  In the locker room, I stumbled upon:

5. A tall, thin twink with a nondescript physique but a thick cut sausage that hung down about 5" soft.