Feb 6, 2015
My Most Embarrassing Hookup
The gay neighborhood of the Montrose was only 25 miles away, but still, it was nearly impossible to meet people. First, it was nearly an hour's drive away, in bumper-to-bumper traffic.
All of the gay organizations met on weeknights, when I didn't have time. That left bars, which were dangerous, with good old boys driving by to issue homophobic threats, and undercover cops waiting to arrest you for "homosexual conduct."
And when you got past the danger, you found a barful of very closeted guys with weird quirks.
But at Christmastime in 1984, I went back to Rock Island and hooked up with my old bully at JR's. After he turned out to be both apologetic and massive (#7 on my Sausage List), I thought it might be possible to meet someone nice in a bar after all.
So one Saturday night in January, I drove down to the Montrose, to a cruise bar called the Ripcord, a very dark, rather dingy expanse, with peanut shells on the floor and the bottles of the last customers still on every table.
I was 24 years old, but I looked a bit younger. I was wearing a leather jacket, a short-sleeved shirt that displayed my physique, and very tight jeans, and I knew how to "stand and model" with a phallic beer bottle thrust up from my crotch. I was the hottest guy there!
Can you figure out why I was getting Attitude?
After an hour, I was desperate. In order to maintain my self-esteem, I would have to find a "sure thing," someone so inept or unattractive that he would be open to practically anyone.
The rest of the story is on Tales of West Hollywood.