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jawnbcThe train from Park Slope to the West Village takes about 12 minutes; from there it's a 5 minute walk across to Christopher Street. I pass the sissy bars (Bras and Girdles a/k/a Boots and Saddles, plus the Monstah) and claim my space in the window at Ty's. I'm probably one of a handful of guys under 30...and definitely the only one under 25. I like my men clone; this is clone central.
I am in awe of these men's beauty, and despondent at how few give me the time of day. Time for another Bud.
The beartender is adorable and treats me well, and I happily part with money I can't afford. I'm hopeless at cruising, and my nods and smiles register blank looks or the polite acknowledge-look away nod. By 1am I'm loaded and begin the waddle back to the subway. Except I turn left rather than right.
I pay my $8 and pass through the turnstile into the dark room. The parade has already begun, with some men marching around others positioned in the various video booths. Downstairs--the basement, really--there's not much happening in the video "lounge", but on cold winter nights it's fuckin' freezing down there. I find an empty booth, and start to fondle myself. But it's one of those nights of too much whiskey dick and not enough men of my liking. I leave no lighter than I arrived.
He smiles at me as I'm leaving and I smile back. He tries to chat me up, me up, but at 3am and halfway to a horrid hangover, I'm not interested in civilities. So I ask him what he's into.
"J/O, mutual oral, massage. What about you?"
"Sorry man, I'm looking to get laid tonight."
When he starts shrieking at me, I'm caught off-guard. People are dying, there's an epidemic on, what are you stupid? I turn back up Christopher Street towards the 2, but his voice stays in my head the whole way home. As does my response.
Yeah of course I know, asshole. But I'm 23 and celibacy isn't an option. Fucking safely is.
Still is.
I learnt about safer sex from other, older queer men who made keeping one another alive--while celebrating our sexuality--their priority. They brought me into a world where even the most impersonal encounter had an element of care to it. I didn't practicer safer sex--we did. And if anyone needs a statistically significant sample size to prove its reliability, I'm your man.
I am in awe of these men's beauty, and despondent at how few give me the time of day. Time for another Bud.
The beartender is adorable and treats me well, and I happily part with money I can't afford. I'm hopeless at cruising, and my nods and smiles register blank looks or the polite acknowledge-look away nod. By 1am I'm loaded and begin the waddle back to the subway. Except I turn left rather than right.
I pay my $8 and pass through the turnstile into the dark room. The parade has already begun, with some men marching around others positioned in the various video booths. Downstairs--the basement, really--there's not much happening in the video "lounge", but on cold winter nights it's fuckin' freezing down there. I find an empty booth, and start to fondle myself. But it's one of those nights of too much whiskey dick and not enough men of my liking. I leave no lighter than I arrived.
He smiles at me as I'm leaving and I smile back. He tries to chat me up, me up, but at 3am and halfway to a horrid hangover, I'm not interested in civilities. So I ask him what he's into.
"J/O, mutual oral, massage. What about you?"
"Sorry man, I'm looking to get laid tonight."
When he starts shrieking at me, I'm caught off-guard. People are dying, there's an epidemic on, what are you stupid? I turn back up Christopher Street towards the 2, but his voice stays in my head the whole way home. As does my response.
Yeah of course I know, asshole. But I'm 23 and celibacy isn't an option. Fucking safely is.
Still is.
I learnt about safer sex from other, older queer men who made keeping one another alive--while celebrating our sexuality--their priority. They brought me into a world where even the most impersonal encounter had an element of care to it. I didn't practicer safer sex--we did. And if anyone needs a statistically significant sample size to prove its reliability, I'm your man.
