Fun with Grindr: How the hell did you get past my age filter?

Call me…

…because you have an eye for detail. We know you spent an hour getting the text to line up with your pic.

…because, er… okay, not gonna lie: I stopped listening 3 lines ago.

…because…. Huh?

*checks settings*

How the hell did you get past my age filter?

…wait, don’t. Stereotyping iphone cases is so unsexy.

…because you could learn a thing or two from the Gaga gays. For starters: we go to the gym.

…because you gotta make sure those parts still work. Use it or lose it, baby!

Well, you won’t. But look at those stats! I think 40's an appropriate age to learn the different between discrete and discreet.

Click here to check out more Fun with Grindr.

there will be more glass! (The Ivy League Crew et al Invades DC Part II)

Click here to read Part I of the DC tragedy adventure.

I walked out to the lobby to find Urban Sprawl in the lobby, fully clothed and swaying.

Sprawl: "They kicked me out! I was just leaning against the rail, and the bouncer said, 'Come with me.'"

Me: "That sucks... Do you need me to get your stuff?"

Him: "No, I didn't bring anything."

Me: "Um, do you need me to do something?"

Him: "No."

Me: "Ok, well... I'll see you back at the hotel."

Him: "Yeah."

I have a theory on what happened. Urban Sprawl isn't the most coordinated drunk in the world, and after pre-gaming and drinks at the club, his perception may not have been at it's sharpest. It's plausible that he could have bumped into one of the guys, causing the drink to spill both on himself and on Urban Sprawl. I wouldn't guess that Urban Sprawl was overly polite about the situation as he perceived it, and it's not too outlandish for the guys to have been friends with a bouncer.

I could have seen the situation totally incorrectly, but the texts that follow don't exactly undermine the theory... except that they're perfectly typed. Note the time stamps:

Bottomless Pitt and I continued to drink, dance, and yell. And when we discovered that they were actually serving until after 3am (and not closing at 2, which we originally thought): "I'll drink to that!"

After Bottomless Pitt managed to separate his tongue from the tonsils of some Czech boy that couldn't host, he, Tighty Whitey and I left for Annie's, a gay 24-hour steakhouse (that also serves diner food) on the gay strip of DC. A drag queen almost took our booth.

Sunday morning was when the stories really came out! I'm not even gonna use pseudonyms, but it's mostly people you know. Keep in mind: these are grown-ass men.

Boy 1 and Boy 2 have had complex hook-up-turned-awkward drama (to simplify things) for damn near a year now. So when Boy 1 saw Boy 2 making out with another boy (who used to live in NYC but moved to DC and was oblivious to the drama), Boy 1 didn't take too kindly. He actually took the make-out guy aside and confronted him. In the club.*

So, Boy 2 and Boy 3 were staying in the same hotel room. Boy 3 had met someone and had taken him back to the room to get some ram. Boy 2, after having his hook-up hopes dashed by Boy 1, comes back to a polite note saying, "I need the room from 3:15-4:15, please." Keep in mind that Boy 3 actually coordinated and paid for the rooms. Boy 2 starts banging on the door like the police, interrupting Boy 3's action! And Boy 3 actually answered!!

Boy 1 saw this going down and offered for Boy 2 to innocently pass the time in his room. Boy 2 declined the offer.

Being perfectly capable of rational negotiation, Boy 2 demanded that Boy 3’s trick leave the room in 5 minutes. And Boy 3 complied. Rumor has it that there was a dubious brown stain on the sheets all the next day.

I heard this, and I was like, "Why did he open the door?! He would have eventually calmed down and listened to the note. And if not, that's what security's for."

Friend: "Damn, you would have called security?"

Me: "Hell yeah! Boy 3 probably needed less than half hour by the time Boy 2 arrived. If you don't have the mental capacity to sit outside or text to see if another room is still awake, there's no telling what you'll do once inside the room. I'd partially fear for my safety! And I'll be damned if someone whose room I'm paying for cock blocks me for a non-emergency."

Boy 4 and Boy 5 made an unlikely hook up. Come to think of it, Boy 5 seems to be systematically working his way through the guys I know, so it's not totally out of the blue.

And after all this happened, everyone seemed to be all smiles (though there was a lot of, 'Oh, let's not go there' about the night before). Urban Sprawl filled us in on the rest of the night:

After I got kicked out, I actually had bricks in my hand that I had found at a construction site. But there were cops all around, so I couldn’t do anything with them. So I put them down and went across the street to pee on a tree [as one does outside a club in front of cops]. The bouncer left his post to cross the street and say, ‘What are you doing… Go home.’ And no, I did not get into a fight with a tranny! I don’t even know where that came from, but could you imagine how badly I would lose that fight! You would have seen heel-marks on my forhead!

Then I came back to the room, and as I was flinging myself on the bed, by hand hit the frame on the wall. Glass all over the floor! Then later, when the others had come back to the room, I was trying to go to sleep. They were watching stupid YouTube videos, and I said, ‘If you don’t turn that shit off, there will be more glass!’

After several debriefings, we made our way to drunk brunch at DIK (Dupont Italian Kitchen). The prices were the same as Level 1, and they're across the street from each other. But Level 1 seemed to have a cuter crowd (my bad, since I made the reservation). Like Mike suggested we check out DIK Bar upstairs. Some guy that worked in some political capacity bought Bottomless Pitt and me several drinks. He had made out with Bottomless Pitt (which I didn’t see), and when I gave him a hug on our way out, he licked my neck. Now, I carry sanitizer in my murse.

As I got on the Bolt Bus, my phone buzzed. No text… no missed call… ok, who am I kidding: Grindr’s always the first thing I check when my phone buzzes. Yet another asshole with no pic had sent me a message, but his second message was a shirtless face pic. And it was nice.

Did I mention we messaged back and forth the for my entire trip back to NYC (to the point where my battery went dead while I had it plugged in... I couldn't help it: he looked amazing in a jock strap!)? Yeah.

Click here to check out pictures from Town (inc. the Undergear fashion show). Add me as a friend to access the album.

Clickhere to check out what I did on Pride 2008 (and how much my writing's changed since I first started the blog)!

*Update: Boy 1 claims that make-out guy approached him for some reason... which makes this whole situation even more fascinating! Did Boy 2 get so drunk that he cock blocked himself?! Consider me amazed. PS, a Philly trip is in the works...

Note: you may find the "Topics of Discussion" on the right and the Cast of Characters to be of help in navigating this blog.

a guy he met at the liquor store (The Ivy League Crew et al Invades DC)

Photo taken from TTT's Twitter profile

A friend of ours offered to get a bunch of rooms in DC on a Saturday. She had some kind of hook up with Priceline or the Mob or something... All I know is that the cost was taken care of, and I wasn't missing out for anything!

A few of us took the Bolt Bus down and hopped on the Metro over to Dupont Circle. I had only been to the gym once that week, so I was determined to get a workout in. Bottomless Pitt, Urban Sprawl, TTT and I made our way down to the exercise room not quite sure what to expect.

We walked into a box that wasn't even the size of a hotel room. There were a few bike machines, a few treadmills, and a strange set of weight-adjustable dumbbells. Once we figured out how the hell to use the dumbbells, Bottomless Pitt and I alternated lifting while Urban Sprawl ran and practiced the "Telephone" dance in the mirror between sets of push-ups (you think I'm joking?). TTT kind of stood around, posted pictures on Twitter, and wandered off to see if she could find the steam room (girl, this ain't Shequinox!).

We were starving after our workout, but we had to shower and change for a pre-party on Like Mike's rooftop. Like Mike is a friend of a friend whom I basically met because he would constantly Like my friends' statuses on Facebook. He works for the federal government (surprise, it's DC), he's around my age, and he probably used to be a twink with a brain.

image from TTT's Twitter profile

The 15 of us from NYC made our way over to Like Mike's, and after our first drink, Bottomless Pitt, TTT and I ran out in search of food. Bottomless Pitt and I were craving protein from our workout. TTT was just being a fat ass. We ended up walking through DC's main gay strip, and it felt like everyone sitting outside at the various restaurants was gawking at us as we walked by. I wasn't sure if I looked good or if I'd spilled something on my sleeveless shirt.

After we picked up food, we ducked into Rosebud Liquors (tee hee hee) to get another bottle for the party. A tall white guy was waiting and almost immediately called me out.

Guy: "Hey, I've seen you before."

Me: "You kinda look familiar."

Guy: "Did I meet you at Pride a couple of weeks ago?"

Me: "Er, I wasn't here for Pride."

Guy: "Oh... Well turn around. I'll definitely recognize you then."

We all laughed as I gathered money for the bottle we were splitting. TTT and the guy continued to talk as I paid, and TTT got his number.

Did anyone catch that... TTT got a number from a guy he met at the liquor store. Just making sure we're all on the same page here.

We got back just in time to catch the last bottle of vodka, and our Captain Morgan didn't last too long either. I was trying to mobilize to JR's around the corner before we left for Town, but everyone was pretty settled. Then TTT told me he'd just invited Liquor Store Dude over.

I ended up talking to Liquor Store Dude for a little while when he arrived. He said something about being a photographer and working in politics (let's go with DC paparazzi). It was getting dangerously late for non-New York clubbing (and Like Mike was only allowed to use the roof til 11), so I re-rallied the troops to wrap things up.

Liquor: "So, is there a bathroom?"

Me: "Yeah, Like Mike lives in [unit number]. There should be someone down there to open the door."

Liquor: "Why don't you come walk me down?"

Me (not catching on at first): "Dude, it's like 3 floors down."

Him (grabbing my arm): "Come on."

As soon as we got to the 6th floor in the stairwell, my back was against the wall, and his tongue was counting my molars.

. o O (This is nice... I wonder if he's fetishizing me... I hope nobody comes down the stairs... Are they getting cabs yet... I bet he's hairy... I wonder where he lives... These bitches better not leave me... He's a good kisser... How am I gonna button these tight-ass shorts back with this boner... Crap, he unbuttoned my shorts!)

I pulled away and situated myself, which was kind of useless because there was no extra fabric to hide... well, anything. I casually walked out into the hallway with both hands not-at-all suspiciously shoved into my pockets, and who should happen to be waiting for the elevator: Bottomless Pitt. I cracked up as the blood began to rush back to my head.

Liquor Store Dude was about as interested in going to Town as I would be in going to Splash on a Saturday night. We said exchanged cards, and I jumped in a cab with 3 other boys.

Cashier: "$12 please."

Me: "Hold up. Isn't it free if you're in your underwear?"

Cashier: "Yes it is."

Me: "I'll be right back."

I may or may not have changed into a speedo in the lobby of Town.

When we walked in, everyone was a) watching a drag show and b) wearing clothes. I needed a drink. Fast.

All of us kind of spread out after we got in the club. I found Urban Sprawl and Bottomless Pitt upstairs. They had discovered that drinks were only $5 (I imagine them acting like the Nintendo 64 kid), so they'd been throwing them back since they walked in.

Urban Sprawl (gesticulating wildly): "That asshole just tried to make me apologize for him spilling his drink on me! Oo, I will cut her!"

Me: "Oh god. Here we go..."

Urban Sprawl: "Where'd they go! I'm gonna—"

Me: "Sprawl, don't let them ruin your good time. It's their city: you'll get kicked out before they do. Let's find the others downstairs."

It didn't take us long to find the rest of the boys. Well, except for TTT, who left because he didn't get a make-out offer within the first 10 minutes. We may or may not have done the dance to "Telephone" in the club. On stage. In speedos.

Our group was cutting up en masse on the downstairs dance floor when a security person tapped me on the shoulder.

Him: "Your friend asked me to find you. He's at the door. We had to escort him out."

Me: "What the hell?"

Did I mention you're gonna have to wait til the next post to find out what went down (including some HOtEl room drama)? Yeah.

Click here to check out my trip to DC for Barak Obama's Inauguration.

Note: you may find the "Topics of Discussion" on the right and the Cast of Characters to be of help in navigating this blog.

stretch of woods known as the Meatrack (Fire Island 4th of July conclusion)

Click here to read the first part of my Fire Island 4th of July adventure.

I bade the Long Island Gays adieu and walked down the block to the Architect's house. We really haven't seen each other much over the past couple of years, so we caught up in the lounge upstairs (not like that, perv) while his housemates busied themselves prepping dinner. And after a delicious and much-needed meal (with a delicious and much-not-needed drink and glass of wine), I stumbled my way across the Pines, through the brothel stretch of woods known as the Meatrack (in the dark!!) and to Cherry Grove. Two miles in total. I would say this was where the night started to get patchy, but that started to happen before nightfall.

My first stop was at Cherry’s (I think), which was pretty low-key. I ended up running into 5-foot 8x6, who, to this very day, is still in awe of his pseudonym. I talked with him and his boyfriend for god knows how long before the alarm I had set for the 2am ferry (the last one from Cherry Grove) went off. I saw it come in. I saw drunk queens running towards it. And I chose my sense of adventure over practicality. Plus the Architect said I could crash at his house if I needed to.

After watching the last chance of returning to my bed sail away, I stumbled across to the Ice Palace. I got some water there (thankfully) and undoubtedly screamed out some pop tunes before taking the mile-and-a-half walk through the Meatrack to the Pines around what must have been about 4:30. The only thing that kept me going was the fact that I could see the sandy trails in the dark (the woodsy trails were a different story) and that I knew that the sound of the waves crashing had to be coming from the south.

Back in the Pines, the Pavilion was still open. They were playing house music, which I hate, but there was no cover. It was still pretty busy. I decided that my best chance at finding an 'adventure' was to blend in as much as possible (you can tell I was wasted). I took off my shirt and started doing that same tired two-step that the drugged up queens have been doing for decades, trying not to show too strong a sense of rhythm or coordination. A tall, muscular white guy in shades appeared near me. He seemed to be trying to check me out, but I couldn’t really tell. Eventually I got tired of playing Is He into Me and two-stepped in his direction with a once-over and a smile. He gladly wrapped an arm around my waist, and within minutes we were making out.

adventure: commence.

Turns out he wasn’t staying in the Pines. Or the Grove. He was staying in some straight town in Fire Island that the water taxi apparently serviced. I think it was around 6:30 when we left the Pavilion. Someone we asked said service started around 8. When I googled it on my phone, the website said 9. We took a seat on The Blue Whale's patio and alternated between talking and feeling each other up. As the sun started to come up, passers-by went from cruising to walking their dogs and jogging. Once the sun got bright, we moved to a recessed part of the dock between buildings where I passed out for a bit.

The first ferry came. A freight boat came. The police boats came twice. The water taxi didn’t actually arrive until around 9:30 (my companion had already been hung up on by the water taxi info hotline operator). The captain told us he had to go to Water Island (really fucking far in the wrong direction) and back to the Pines. Next, we stopped at Ocean Park, which would have been nice enough... except the women that got on with us asked to go to Ocean Beach.

My adventure warned me about 100 meters from the house that 12 people staying there (most of whom he worked with), and that we’d be saying hi while they were having brunch before retiring to his room. It was surprisingly not-awkward (which could be a good or bad thing). It just so happened that his room was right next to a co-workers. With sliding almost-French doors separating them. Sliding almost-French doors aren’t soundproof.

Did I mention that if Apple had invented a water-proof iPhone, it would have captured the hottest scene since Bottomless Pitt’s shower debut? Did I mention that (without so much as a nap afterwards), he invited me in their van back to LaGuardia Airport? And that he insisted on my taking cab fare to get home?

Did I also mention that Grrber was in the Pines that whole weekend and that neither of us had any idea the other was there (I thought he was gonna be working in the Hamptons... oops)? Yeah.

Click here to check out the last time I went out to Fire Island.

a literal boat load of drag queens (Fire Island's 4th of July Invasion of the Drag Queens)

I’d never been to the Fire Island Invasion of the Drag Queens because there was always a family cook out, but this year, I ditched the family and trekked out for the 4th of July festivities.

I was supposed to be meeting up with the Ivy League Crew et al at Penn Station, but by the time I went across the street for a breakfast sandwich, the train was already on the platform. I ended up running into ASFKAB and his glamorous fruit fly first, so I sat with them for the ride out.

The train was full of shameless homosexual activity! First, as the tall, handsome, black conductor walked up the aisle to punch everyone's tickets, an older white guy leaned all the way into the aisle to watch him walk. Then some 130-lb twink in a see-through American Apparel tank top popped open a box of Muscle Milk at like 11:30 am. Really, girl?

To get out there, we had to take two Long Island Railroad trains, a mini-bus, and a ferry. Total cost (with the LIRR package deal): $30. I caught up with Bottomless Pitt, Urban Sprawl, Arm'n'Hammer and Bronx Newbie on the mini-bus, and the line for the ferry was crazy! We squeezed our way onto the upper deck of the ferry where took the opportunity to break out my “juice” with “extra pulp” (the first sip of which made Bronx Newbie cough with his eyes bugged out). By the time the 5 of us got to the Pines, the first Gatorade bottle was empty.

Everyone was lined up waiting for the arrival of the drag queens. I’d been invited to Bologna’s house with the Long Island Gays, but I’d forgotten to ask what their address was. Eventually, they came prancing through the crowd gathered on the dock and informed us that it was the same house as the year before.

The drag queens came in on a water taxi around 2. Picture a literal boat load of drag queens, many in coordinated costumes, pulling into a harbor of cheering, shirtless gays. I figured it’d be sort of like a parade of drag, but it turns out that they announce each individual drag queen or group. There’s a contest (for which the Architect was a judge) with prizes like “Best Group” and “Best Individual” and hilarious prizes like “Most Tragic” and “Best Attempt.” My favorite won the latter with her Venetian-blinds top.

With all the announcing, it took forever to go through everyone. Most of the boys were over it halfway through and took a seat to the side. For whatever reason, they were determined to go to the beach first, so I told them to meet me at the house later.

When I got out to the house, Bologna wasn’t back yet, but Dirty Sanchez was a drunken mess, prancing around in a speedo and clear platform heels.

Eventually, more of the Long Island Gays came home. I think I might have been the only one not to take a turn with the stripper heels or the 3" Messica Simpson booties.

At one point, we were up on the roof deck, and Dirty Sanchez was lying on the railing like a 50s cover girl. Just as someone was saying, "Maybe that's not such a good idea," I saw her flinch, scream, and disappear over the railing! We all gasped, forgetting about the foot and a half of roof that extended beyond said railing, which is exactly where she landed. She blushed and (still in the heels) clicked her way back down to the second floor.

Did I mention I got no sleep that night (but you're have to wait til next post to find out what [or who] kept me up)? Yeah.

Click here to check out more photos of the Invasion drag queens on Facebook.

Click here to check out when my cousin brought his Japanese girlfriend Sin home to my very Christian aunt's house for 4th of July last year.

Note: you may find the "Topics of Discussion" on the right and the Cast of Characters to be of help in navigating this blog.

Fun with Grindr: cute NYU freshman in a relationship

Call me….

…because I’m into the Jersey Shore fake tan thing… just make sure not to miss your hands next time.

…because your eye liner and manicure beg to differ. I really don’t care. But I hope you like it doggystyle: you're not getting that black hair spray paint on my sheets.

…because the sex is going to be just as one-sided as this convo.

…because guys with nice bodies always have cute faces. Besides, my pillow doesn’t care if you’re cute.

…because you’re a cute NYU freshman in a relationship with a Grindr profile. I give it a month.

…but text the safety word before you come.

…because Christmas is cummin’ early this year!!

(Can you bring an elf for my friend… preferably a Ginger.)

Click here to check out more Fun with Grindr: FoSkin 4 lYfe!

Bring your strap-on! (NYC Pride 2010)

Pride in NYC is always on the last weekend of June. It was a rather insane weekend, and I lost Friday night’s post. Here are the important details.

Hardy was a friend of Prince of Persia’s who was visiting from out of town. I call him Hardy because he looks like he wouldn’t be too uncomfortable in Ed’s designs… he’d actually look really good in Ed Hardy gear. Anyway, he was renting Burnadette Peters’ boyfriend’s condo for the weekend. I was into him, but I couldn’t tell if he was giving me the you’re-fun vibe or the I-wanna-see-you-naked vibe. MicHELLe could see there was chemistry, but she wanted a piece. I told him to go for it: “He’s not chasing me: I’m over it.” I was soon distracted by a boy and separated from the group.

That Saturday, we went to a party with more terrace space than actual apartment space in Hell’s Kitchen (very sexy hired bartenders) before heading to Prince of Persia’s place. Shortly after I arrived, MicHELLe told me that she ended up home with Hardy.

As they were making out, “Burnadette Peters’ boyfriend storms in in a drunken rage and is like, ‘You!! Who are you! What are you doing here!’ So I grabbed my shit and ran! I had to get dressed in the elevator.”

Later on Saturday night, MicHELLe realized that it was not, in fact, Bernadette Peters’ boyfriend who was yelling at him: it was Hardy's drunk friend who was also staying in the apartment. Of course, Prince had already told me the story by the time MicHELLe was informed, but I definitely couldn’t be the one to miss her reaction break her heart with bad news.


We laughed, we went to Posh, and I was drunk enough to do the “Single Ladies” dance with the boys (who will still do it at the drop of a hat stone-cold sober) for a free shot.

I was elated to find that the A was running express on Sunday morning, so I got to the Village that much faster. It was early enough so that it wasn’t insane, but late enough for people to be lined up to see the parade. As I was walking through NYU territory, I noticed a familiar face on the frame of a short, worked-out white guy. About 3 seconds after he passed me, I turned around.

image from eyecandy.abzolute.net

Me: “Davey?”

Him: “Yeah… hey.”

Me: “Hey! I thought that was you. I watch your videos on YouTube. Love what you do.”

Him: “Oh, well, thank you.”

Me: “Actually, I have a website, too. I’m a blogger. Here, let me give you a card.”

Him: “Awesome! Thanks.”

Me: “Well, I’m late for a thing, but good to actually meet you!”
Him: “You too! Happy Pride!”

Actually, it didn’t matter what time I arrived, but I have this thing about exiting before the awkwardness starts getting exponential. But of course, I was so caught off guard that I didn’t think to get a picture. Or invite him to the brunch I was headed to (especially since he was by himself)!

There was quite a crowd at RSTLNE’s new place when I arrived. I was starving, so after a quick round of double kisses, I got myself some of the amazing food that Bottomless Pitt had been slaving over all morning.

The first thing I noticed when I walked in was how damn hot it was in the apartment. I was wearing my Blackout Blog tshirt, but that was for advertising. Most of the people at this party knew about the blog already, and I wanted to keep it fresh for the rest of the day. So I reluctantly took my shirt off.

We all had a great time at RSTNLE’s, and the Ivy League Crew et al were among the last to leave. I’d been invited to a house party on Christopher and Gay that had a cover: $10 or a bottle between 2 people. I figured it was at least worth checking out, so a few of us got some bottles and walked over.

Navigating the village during the Parade takes more skill than any wilderness orienteering challenge. Everything is blockaded, so you have to be careful how you approach intersections. I had us walking about 5 blocks out of our way (via Bleeker St for those of you who are familiar) to avoid the parade madness because we had to get on the other side of it.

We walked into a very crowded (and hot) apartment and handed our bottles to the bartender in exchange for wristbands. Yes, wristbands at a house party. Then there was a line to get drinks, which was easy to confuse for the line for the bathroom. But there seemed to be a fun mix of people and fun music. I finally remembered to look out the window because we were right on Christopher, but the parade had already ended.

Every year, the Pleasure Chest hands out these paint stirrers that say “Spank someone happy!” I may or may not have broken more than one from enthusiastic use over the past few years. Anyway, people were trading spanks and having a good laugh about it. Someone who knew the host (apparently a lawyer), gave him a tap on the ass as he was walking by. He turned around, grabbed the stick, and smacked the guy in the face with it. The whole time wearing a strange smile.

“That’s what happens when you hit me.”

After theparty was starting to die down, the host accosted someone who had just arrived with a drink in his hand: “Hi. I need $10 from you, or I’m going to have to give that drink back.”

I figured it was best I left before I had too personal an interaction with the host. Just as I was leaving, Calipornia texted me:

Apparently, the Ski Bums are well known because everyone I told about this party seemed to be familiar. Anyway, there were tons of Chelsea bears present, but, of course, the only guy to talk to me had a twink-ish build. Cute, dark-skinned and friendly, but I couldn’t focus on him with all the fur around.

After some hot bear meat a burger and a drink, Calipornia and I left for G Lounge. That was too packed to be fun, so we headed to a James Tate party at The Lott (the bar formally known as Porky’s… remember those Sunday-night Hot Mess parties?). There was a $5 cover with the flier, and when we walked in, we saw scores of guys in their underwear. The same brand of underwear.

Calipornia: “I think there are more go-goes than actual patrons here. Not that I’m complaining!”

There were seriously go-goes everywhere, and many of them were very sexy (and actually had butt!). The go-goes on the bar had bottles of fruity mixed drinks that they poured into patrons’ mouths. Quite a few of my ones went towards tipping.

After a drink and quite a few go-go pours, we made our way to Vlada. There was a curtain at the entrance with 2 tables. One gave out bags for the clothes check, and the other actually checked your bag once you were out of your clothes. Downstairs was pretty tame, and I stopped there for a drink. Calipornia darted upstairs as soon as they took her bag.

Cali (5 minutes later): “Holy shit! There’s a curtain upstairs where it’s extra dark. Boys are going at it! Get your ass up there!”

When he said going at it, he was not exaggerating. It was to the point where someone next to me mumbled, “Shouldn’t he be changing condoms between bottoms…” If anybody had innocent eyes, they’d surely been defiled that night.

Speaking of eyes, I recognized so many people at a party. And I don’t mean like from the Scene. I mean friends of friends that I can name had I not forgotten their names since we’ve been introduced! And they weren’t just being perverted voyeurs like I; they were full-on participating. Full. On. And I sat right there taking notes.

Eventually, the smell of poppers and lube got old (I never thought I’d say that), so I headed down to XES to meet up with the boys. But on the way out, I was stopped by a very dark, very built guy with an accent. Turns out he was Nigerian. And a good kisser. And a bottom! He was eager, but I didn’t want to mess around in public. Turns out it was his first underwear party, and he’d just arrived. I took his number and texted him later. I’ll give you three guesses as to whether he’s responded or not.


(Note: I met Kunta Kente, also Nigerian, cruising my way out of a party on the night of Pride 4 years ago... guess I'm losing my touch as a closer.)

I headed down to XES around 1:30 or so. When I arrived, Med School Mess was outside talking to the same ginger I’d seen him making out with last year at No Parking. Apparently the conversation was so good that he didn’t notice me walk by. As soon as I walked in, Bottomless Pitt grabbed my arm and dragged me towards the door.

Pitt: “We have to go.”

Me: “What about–”

Pitt: “They’re all messes, and I can’t deal! We have to get out of here!”

Me: “Um, how about G.”

Pitt: “Fine. I don’t care. I’ll go anywhere at this point.”

We were literally running to the corner, still under Med School Mess’s radar. G was much more manageable by the time we got there, so we had a drink there before parting ways.

I actually felt relatively good the next day when I met some of the boys on the Pier. Did I mention that I got fucked up at happy hour and that people kept buying me margaritas at Maracas after? Did I mention that led to one of my top 3 worst work-hangovers since I moved to the City? Yeah.

Click here to check out more photos on Facebook.

Click here to check out NYC Pride '09.

Note: you may find the "Topics of Discussion" on the right and the Cast of Characters to be of help in navigating this blog.

fetish gear was on display (Folsom Street East '10)

Folsom Street is a yearly fetish street festival in San Francisco. A few years ago, NYC started one called Folsom Street East, and it’s been one of my favorite events of the summer. Everyone comes out in their leather/fetish gear, and you see sights in the daylight that you’re not likely to see anywhere else on the east coast.

While I’ve always been in awe of fetish gear, I’ve been even more in awe of the price of fetish gear. So this year, I decided to revive my F Word fetish outfit from Home Depot.

On the subway.

The Ivy League Crew et al went to brunch at Maracas beforehand where Med School Mess felt that she had encountered some not-so-subtle racism.

After we were all liquored up well fed, we headed over to the festival. And oh, the sights we saw…

The hosts were drag queen legend Peppermint and porn actor/nightlife personality Mike Dreyden.

And hotties were all over the place.

They looked good from the back, too.

All kinds of fetish gear was on display.

And there were demonstrations, too.

I love a guy that doesn’t talk too much.

Appropriately enough, the festival took place right outside the notorious leather/fetish bar the Eagle. And on the same block is the more notorious (in the mainstream world) Scores (a strip club for straight men).

DJ Bakelite was working one of the tables (that auto-spanker hurt… then again, I was wearing a jock strap).

Blogger/former porn actor Tré Xavier was present as well.

I recognized this guy

From Grindr.

Which sparked the following conversation.

I really didn't know who he was.

And of course, I had to drop in on Küte at G Lounge with my gear on.

Totally sober, I swear.

Click here to see more pictures and video from FSE '10 on Facebook.

Click here to add me as a friend to see the NSFW pics.

Click here to check out last year when I did FSE, Beyoncé's concert, and Broadway Bares... all in one Sunday.

Note: you may find the "Topics of Discussion" on the right and the Cast of Characters to be of help in navigating this blog.