Wednesday, July 06, 2011

Connecting

Speaking of both worlds, what is up with this trend of buff shirtless guys wheeling strollers around? I mean guys taking their babies on walks, while parading their sex appeal? I mean it is 99° out today, so I can understand not wanting to wear a shirt, but it’s kind of strange seeing these tough tattooed specimens of masculinity growling at the world while pushing the stroller. The white people in Denver are so white. Actually these guys pushing the strollers aren’t as white as the rest -- more working-class, not passing as carefree. I’m talking about the white people in the tourist district, flip-flops and bleached hair – these huge tall guys with broad shoulders and tiny girlfriends. Everyone looks strikingly healthy, except the ones who looks strikingly unhealthy. Even the bookstore is filled with jocks, or that’s how it seems to me anyway. It would be dangerous for me to live here, for sure – I might end up with a jock fetish again, and this time they would be straight. I keep looking at these guys together, thinking they’re gay people acting straight. But they’re just straight. What do the gay people look like?

You want to hear about the cruising park, and so do I. I’m on my way there, but first I take a street that I think goes through but instead it ends at a gated townhouse collection, I know I’m supposed to use the word community. But no community so I turn the corner, and did I mention that just a few blocks ago I was on Colfax? But then, as soon as I turned off, suddenly everything was a big old mansion. Most of them have been converted into apartments, but still they seem grandiose, especially in comparison to the7-11 and Walgreen’s and rundown bars and storage and empty parking lot just around the corner.

The park is very green, that’s the first thing I think. The grass just seems ridiculously lush – suddenly I feel like I’m in a suburban white enclave, or I guess an urban white enclave because of the high rise condos and apartments surrounding the park. Mostly the park is empty, but there are straight people playing frisbee, straight people having a picnic, and straight people walking dogs. Maybe a few gay people walking dogs, I’m not sure. No cruising. I thought right before dark would be the best time, but maybe I’m too early. There isn’t really anywhere to hide, that’s what I realize after I walk all the way through the park, about a half-mile is what I think from looking at the map earlier on – I guess this back corner where there’s construction, that would be the most likely place, and there are two guys sitting at a bench together, but I can’t tell exactly what they’re doing, talking it seems and usually people don’t talk when they’re cruising. It’s getting dark so I don’t feel like acting extra-conspicuous by walking up to them all the way in this neglected corner, so I just turn around.

No wait, it is dark now. There are a few cars in the middle, but I hate car cruising. I look in anyway, just in case – one maybe-straight guy with a baseball cap in the first car, two super-mainstream gay guys in the next car; they all ignore me. A bit further up, there’s some guy in his late-50s in jogging shorts, scowling while grabbing his crotch, but that’s not very appealing. Actually my favorite part of the trip is when I step into a sinkhole, mud up to my calf – yes, it’s gross at first, but then I get to take off my sandals, rub everything in the luxurious grass, try to get the mud off before heading on my way. Now that it’s dark the park feels more soothing, that was another reason for coming right at sunset – just so I didn’t get all edgy wandering through a dark park that I’ve never been to. I guess stepping into the mud brought me back into my body, or out of the exhaustion I was sinking into. Anyway, back onto the bus on Colfax, which comes pretty quickly this time, I’m impressed.

Now you want to hear about the bathhouse. I’m glad I looked it up online, because when I get off the bus I realize dammit, I got off too early, this is the 3500 block but it’s on the 3900 block. But then I look over, and there’s that big gorgeous brick coliseum-style building with a rounded corner, could there really be two of those in this area? And so, sure enough, the numbers skip from 3500 to 3900. Some cute guy comes right up to me in the locker room, says hi I’m Johnny, did you just get here? That’s pretty friendly, right?

He also says he likes my hair – good thing I washed it right before leaving the house. He takes me on a tour of the usual – glory holes, dungeon, sauna, gloomy hot tub, TV room. He doesn’t understand the glory holes, and I don’t say what if some guy isn’t so hot, but his dick is? He says he prefers a room, which is funny because you can rent rooms here but he chose a locker. Sure it’s cheaper, but actually not that much cheaper. I say I like being in public, so then we’re making out in the TV room and just as he’s going for my dick I switch it up and start sucking his. His persona shifts too – before he was talking about wanting me to fucking him, now he’s doing the top talk. Oh, right – I forgot that right at the beginning he said are you more dominant or submissive? No, worse – right away he said are you a top or a bottom? And then later, as if to rephrase the question: are you more dominant or submissive? I don’t know, I said. Because I don’t.

Oh, and he keeps saying: you seem so happy. Because I’m smiling. People always do that. I guess you’re not supposed to smile when you’re having sex, or talking to someone at a sex club. I will never learn that lesson, and I’m glad. The best thing about this place is the backyard – usually when there’s a backyard at a sex club, that just means cement and cigarette butts, but here there’s actually grass and flower pots, a wooden fence, a deck, trees, and lawn chairs. The sun is going down, so it’s not as hot as it was earlier. Still hot, but not overwhelming like before when it was 99 degrees out, until I start making out with this guy again, oh there’s the heat and then I say let’s go back inside for a bit.

That’s the best part – it feels relaxed. Like we’re friendly, and having sex too, which is rare in these places. I notice that I’m not staying hard, and I wonder if it makes me nervous to feel relaxed, it’s true that I’m not really used to that. Just the immediacy of the charge or nothing and really it always does lead to nothing but for now I’m relaxed, and aware that feeling relaxed makes my body nervous. Like that time with Aaron back in Chicago whenever that was, and we were talking for hours, flirting for days, and then I was leaving the next day so suddenly it seemed like now or never, right? And then we both got nervous like that – nervous in body, because we were comfortable in mind, which made us nervous in mind. Because we were connecting. Not that he ever called me back after that, but still. The irony of sex without connection beyond the physical as something easier, more familiar, to many of us anyway.

There aren’t many other people around this evening at the club, I thought Sunday around now would be the most crowded time but I guess I was wrong – maybe six or seven guys total, all of them in their 60s or so, white or gray hair. Some of them watch; some of them ignore us. So this guy really wants to fuck or get fucked – we try it in all positions, but neither of us can stay hard in the condom. Doesn’t matter to me—eventually I come all over him in the grass, it shoots right onto his eye and I say wait, keep your eyes closed. I wipe it off with the towel, all of it, and when he says he wants to take a shower I wrap the come-covered towel around my waist. I’m a lady with manners, right?

We exchange numbers, he likes my shorts – he’s really attracted to me, I can tell, I mean he keeps telling me, which is sweet and interesting too because usually with this dynamic the other person is older; he’s definitely younger. Or maybe I’m just thinking of tricks. Something makes me imagine he was the stripper from earlier on – there was a 4 pm show, but that was several hours ago. Not that he looks like a stripper and he’s too shy really, gets nervous when people are watching us and I say turn around and I’ll face them so maybe it’s just that he’s the only other youngish person here. Oh, I know – maybe it’s because, when he asked how old I was at the beginning, and I said how old do you want me to be, because usually when people ask me that they think I’m really young. He said however old you really are, 38, and I said how old are you, 20 is what it sounded like he said, so that’s why I thought maybe he was the stripper, used to lying like that, but then I thought oh, maybe he said 28, which would make sense, but really it didn’t matter so I didn’t ask again.

Anyway, if the stripper came at 4 pm, he must’ve left soon thereafter, right? Unless he had a lot of work to do, all these guys with gray hair.

Now I’m rushing out to catch the bus, which of course I miss, but the sky is that pink-yellow color so for a while it just feels fun to watch it. I eat; I crash. Now I feel so tired that I can hardly move, tired in a different way than before, tired like everything falls out of my body and I’m just this, this tired, this tired waiting for the bus that isn’t here and I can’t get up to go back to the club to call a cab. And retrieve the lube that I bought from the shower, I washed it off and then set it on top of the soap dispenser and I would like to get it, it was $14 and it would be useful to have around anyway, but at the same time I can’t bring myself to walk back there.

I’m not even sure that I’m waiting on the right corner for the bus, yes it’s 45 minutes later and this does look like an interesting neighborhood to explore, old brick buildings and I’m not sure what else because I’m too tired, plus I brought my bag so I can’t walk around and maybe I shouldn't have gone to that bathhouse if it ended up making me this tired, maybe it was all that smiling but eventually a cab comes by, I mean a cab that actually stops for me, and then I get inside.

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