To all who e-mailed me asking what the hell was going on with my life, missing posts and going incommunicado on the world: I am OK, working my ass off on a job that requires commuting and looking after an elderly relation, and if I were to recount my sexual experiences during this Trump Year, it would read only like a blog that reviews escorts. I am transitioning into a different lifestyle where vacations will become more important, and where I'll just have to learn better how to tie my fisting and fucking life to business travel and long weekends. I'm new to this, but a quick sketch, so we'll see.
My opportune time for hooking up is mornings, and a nice experience was had with a top who I thought was 'semi-anonymous,' that is, through a members-only hookup site. Except he wasn't that at all. It turns out I had met him 20 years ago. We didn't fuck then and the reason we didn't reveals how the bareback world was then: 1997...only reckless types were fucking raw. It was about two years before Michael McKey, Hot Desert Knights and Paul Morris. New HIV drug strategies might be changing lives, but it was generally believed that only crazy assed fuckers, with a death wish, barebacked. It was still a scary time.
In 1997, I started sputtering gibberish at work and scared the hell out of everybody and was sent home. I ended up in the hospital with some brain swelling and was told that it was serious. I was in intensive care but modern medicine saved my life and advised me to take the AIDS test, and so my AIDS life began.
For three whole years I was afraid I'd catch a cold that my immune system couldn't handle and I would die. But we moved on, albeit living it day by day. I got immersed in porn, and in those days that meant going to the porno shop, renting videos to be viewed at home. I spent a lot of time in the video stores on Polk and Castro, where the clerks were often engaged in some casual flirting. One of them even called me up and invited me to dinner at the old Line Up restaurant on Harrison Street.
He was a nice guy, but I knew we wouldn't fuck as I had subscribed to the whole safe sex deal. Hell, I didn't even need condoms. I had become a strict celibate. Bareback porn eventually changed all that, and more about that some other time...but around the turn of the century, barebacking was emerging as a niche gay lifestyle. Porn was the catalyst, leading to websites, yahoo groups, sex parties, friendships. It was still reckless...barebacking, that is...but at least I could be reckless with like-minded guys. I was not alone. I think all early barebackers felt like this.
Morning fucks are what I'm after, some days are better or easier than others. A few months back, I hooked up with this young daddy who wanted to plow some ass on his way to work downtown. It turned out to be the guy from the video store and yeah, he shot a nice wad of juice up my mantwat and then plowed it deep, deep. He had a nice style. Twenty years later and we are both still sexin'.
All of this is good.
I still don't know his status. We never discussed it, neither twenty years ago nor more recently ...that kinda shit is just plain not sexy for casual engagements. But all I can say, I get a nice, nice feeling when I think o write about this.
Sometimes moving forward can bring you back to where you started.