Flypaper Mind

I have a flypaper mind. Things get stuck there, and they're there forever. Therefore, it might be in your best interests to never ever date me. In 1991 (twelve years ago), I met Bob Smith at the Spike. We went back to my roach-invested studio on First Avenue above four--not just one, not two, not even three, but four Indian Restaurants in my building. He was way hot. Have you ever seen pictures of Israeli army on patrol along the border with Lebanon and been reminded of a Colt Model calendar? That's kind of what was swinging off my dick that night. We talked. We hit it off. We dated. (Back then, it was all about me getting a steady Eddie. Thhis was before I had decided that I was much better off asw a single guy. Although me deciding that I was much better off as a single guy precedes me meeting, falling head over heals in love with, and dating Special Guy. No hard and fast rules.)

So here's what I remember about Bob...

*Before he came to the U.S., Bob was a tour guide in Haifa. At that time, there really wasn't much in the way of a gay scene in Haifa. Men would meet in parks to have sex. The code word was 'tea.' As in, "Hello. It's a nice night, isn't it? My apartment is nearby. Why don't we go there and have some 'tea?'

*Bob explained to me why Land For Peace was such an unsettling idea for Israelis. Israel, you see, is largely coastal lowlands, and it's a narrow country. You can drive from East to West in a few hours. The lands that the Palestinians were after constituted a sort of Piedmont region: the mountains. Militarily, it's a lot easier to defend a mountain stronghold than it is a plain. Especially when you're fighting with the sea at your back. Look at the history of Poland and Belgium and Switzerland. So, giving the folks that have pledged themselves to your extermination such a military advantage made Israelis edgey, to say the least.

*Bob worked for a travel agent back then. He answered the phones. He was married for green card purposes.

*Back then, Bob and I shared a sort fascination with what might be called the Leather Community. Neither of us copped to being kinky, but we met at the Spike, we had some experience, etc. Bob once said to me that a friend of his had told him about an upcoming event called the Black Party. He described it as 'many hot leatherey men' and asked if we could 'go' to that party 'on a date.' I explained that tickets to the Black Party were pretty high priced, like $80. He was incredulous: no way! so much?!! Bob considered, and suggested that we spend the evening outside of Roseland watching the hot leathery men going into the party. "What are you saying?" I asked, "You want to set up lawnchairs on the sidewalk or something?"

*I made Bob lambchops with prunes and Armanac, cous cous, and roasted baby lima beans. He was blown away.

*Bob loved my cat Ned. So much so, that he went out and got a cat of his own. Only he got a Russian Blue. People often would think that Ned was a Russian Blue, but he wasn't. He was a Chartreux.

*Bob onced copped to being kinky. Sort of. He told me that he was interested in wild stuff with sex. I asked him what specifically, and he started sort of giggling goofily (No, no, no. I can't tell you those things. Oh no. No no. Hee hee hee...) Despite the fact that I pointed out to him that I was the person that he was having sex with, and that I wouldn't be adverse to doing some of that 'wild stuff with sex,' he wouldn't relent. The 6'2", 205 pound Israeli stud persisted in quietly giggling to himself and wouldn't spill.

*One of the most charming things about Bob was he was forever coming out with this "Americans are soooo crazy!" reaction. "You have really wild hair!" he'd say to the punk rock kids hanging out on St. Mark's Place. Or asking the woman all done up in couture waiting to use the ATM if which famous Hollywood star she was.

*Bob has this beautiful, fat, cut dick. One of the most beautiful penises I've ever seen. I actually would come out as being opposed for foreskins. I remember my high school health teacher telling us what 'smegma' was and deciding then and there that I would have as little to do with it as possible.

*Why did Bob and I stop seeing each other? Because we stopped having sex. He inscrutably opted for this vow of celibacy or something in the middle of our dating. I think it might have been, "Until we know each other better" even though we went at it like llamas in heat the night we met. I wanted it bad. I would sort of strip and lube up my butt and sit there drooling at his pretty penis and he'd just blush and giggle and say, "No no no. We need to wait." I was a man. I had needs. I guess what might have really been going on was that Bob was steeling his nerve to ask me to tie him up, gag him, hood him, and fist him. Those were his needs.

So it all works out well in the end. I'm filled with images of what I'm going to do to that big sweet hot man. He was all ears and had a big goofy grin when I was telling him about the sublime joys of the singletail whip. One fly in the ointment though: Bob mentioned the 'M' word. As in, 'Monogamy.' Remember: No prescriptive relationships! If it happens, it happens. I have more than a few boys and men on my dance card at the moment. I'm not gonna have time to brush my teeth down at MAL, not to mention Inferno next year. We'll need to negotiate that.



Yo. Wait a minute. Is this the blog of the guy that seemed to be on a submission trajectory mere days ago? Well, yeah. But spending the evening of December 25th whipping Boy Wonderful has sort of cleared my head and focused my erotic energies.