Croquet and tennis, cold lamb. Another perfect Saturday afternoon in Brentwood with Vinny, Tristam and Josh.
Woke at the usual time.
Nothing unusual about the rain, the gray sky, the walk around the park. Empty, wet streets. Nothing unusual. The Little Dog did what he was meant to do. He was subdued. I am perfectly sure that the leash must have communicated my apprehension. Today is the day.
The first time in 10 months since I last laid eyes on him.
Perhaps we can both solve something today?
Last night I met Zack for dinner. His friend Pony joined us for desert. We explored a little night life after. Ended up at some club on 21st and 5th.
A very tiny, very drunk man approached me and said, “You can fuck me but I don’t want to end up in your blog.”
I reassured him that he would never appear in either my bed or my blog.
Mike Tyson once told a bunch of men I was hanging out with that a sexual encounter only really meant something when the sheets were covered in shit, blood and cum.
He really said that.
I am going to get a tee-shirt made with that Tyson inspired mantra printed on it. Blood, Shit and Cum.
A renewed interest in me by younger men. What is this all about? Just as I thought I was on the gay slag heap I am suddenly enjoying a sexual renaissance as a daddy.
Apparently everybody wants his daddy and being a tall, shaved-head, masculine kinda gay I seem to fit this bill. NYC this last visit I was stunned by just how much interest I generated at the gym. These cute, younger men had not seen me on TV, did not know my back story…but wanted some daddy lovin’.
One will always be ‘hot’ if one remains confident.
Am I being fetishized? Lets’s hope so.
I am not complaining. It makes growing old and gay all that much better.