On Saturday nights when we didn't have other plans, Lane and I often went cruising. Around 9:30, I dropped him off at the Faultline, and then drove a mile farther east to Basgo's, the Hispanic bar in Silverlake.
At 11:00 or 11:30, I picked him up again.
Usually one or both of us had met someone, and made a date for later in the week (we would share the bedroom activities at the end, of course).
Once in a while, we couldn't wait: the guy came along, for a late-night snack at the French Quarter (to make it technically a date rather than a hookup), and then home for the bedroom activities.
You're probably wondering what happened when Lane and I both wanted to bring a guy home that night.
In two years of cruising, that only happened once.
The rest of the story is on Tales of West Hollywood