Everybody was closeted in Dayton, so you spent a lot of time in online chatrooms, cruising for hookups, arrangements, friends with benefits, bondage boys, and maybe, occasionally, a real, actual date.
So I got used to online profile exaggerations: they're really 5 years older, 20 lbs heavier, and 2 inches smaller beneath the belt.
Brandon: 23, blond, slim swimmer's build, Kielbasa beneath the belt.
We talked online for over an hour, about movies, tv, art, literature. We had everything in common. I felt an immediate emotional connection. I was going to ask him out to dinner, but then he said, "Why don't you come over tonight?"
Well, it nearly midnight. I was falling asleep. What kind of date could we have?
But he insisted. I figured we would cuddle on the couch, spend the night together, go out for brunch the next day, a good old fashioned West Hollywood date.
"Sounds great! Come on over."
"Um..you don't have any parents or straight roommates hovering around, do you?"
"Oh, no, I live alone."
So I showered, changed clothes, and headed out the door at 12:30 am.
Finally, at nearly 1:30 am, I pulled into the driveway of his nondescript suburban house.
I walked shivering in the night chill across the front yard and rang the doorbell. It seemed extremely loud.
Brandon's father answered.
At least, it looked like Brandon's father.
The rest of the story, with uncensored photos, is on Tales of West Hollywood