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Tuesday, June 30, 2009

Minneapolis Gay Pride 2009 : Loring Stage Concert featuring Kristine W, Expose' and Kat DeLuna

These are some shots I grabbed during the concert. It was incredible. Expose' have lost none of their charm. Their voices are are as beautiful as ever. Breathtaking and fun. Kristine W knocked hit after hit out of the park. Her show was fast paced and filled to the brim with fan favorites. I got an opportunity to meet her after the show. It all made for a very memorable evening.

Rapper Tori Fixx opened. He was part of the Paisley Park scene awhile back. He is openly gay and his R&B flavored beatz were a lot of fun. His back-up singers were incredible and soulful. Best of the set: Woof! and Cowboy

Expose' did a great set of hits - it was flashback time. I was really impressed with their performance and it was nice to see the original line-up back in place. Their choreography was smooth and effortless. Total pros. I hope to hear something new from them in the near future. Best of the set: Seasons Change, Exposed to Love, Come Go With Me, and Let Me Be the One

Kristine W ruled the day. The fans were totally pumped for her performance and she did not disappoint. She was in fine voice and her back-up ladies really helped make her shine. The hits just kept coming. I'm so glad I took advantage of this opportunity to see her live. She is a very accomplished performer and entertaining as all get out. Set highlights included: The Power of Music, The Wonder of It All, Be Alright, Love is the Look and Never

Kat DeLuna brought plenty of energy to the stage. Her live band was incredible. Best of Set: Whine Up

Thursday, June 25, 2009

The Power of Music is finally released! Can I get a witness?

Kristine W’s - The Power of Music is finally out. Amen. I love my divas and Kristine is #1 in my book. She also has a new single out – Be Alright.

The Power Of Music boasts 16 tracks, including her last four #1 Hot Dance Club Play singles: Walk Away, The Boss, Never and Love is the Look. It also includes a new version of the hit that started it all: Feel What You Want. I’ve got my fingers crossed that Be Alright becomes her becomes her 14th #1 Billboard charter.

Track list:

Be Alright (3:36)
The Power of Music (4:20)
Into U (4:15)
Never (4:21)
Not So Merry Go Round (4:15)
Fade (3:27)
Walk Away (3:57)
Feel What You Want (5:07)
The Boss (3:52)
Love is the Look (4:14)
Window to your World (3:47)
Strings (4:09)
Do You Really Want Me (4:20)
Groove's Inside (4:43)
Happiness (4:45)
Meet Again (3:48)

Be Alright made its first appearance on Offer Nissim’s 2007 Forever Tel Aviv compilation in a not-very-convincing 7:15 mix. When I first heard it, I was like – where is Kristine W? But that is definitely not the case on the newly issued single which features 14 mixes/edits from the likes of Hex Hector and The Perry Twins and plenty of Ms. Kristine’s incredible voice.

Track list:

Hex Hector Master Radio (3:30)
Boris Blind Faith Radio (3:45)
Tom Stephan All Right All Night Radio (4:57)
Perry Twins Los Angels And Demons Radio (4:33) Bass Mekanik Full Bump Mix (3:23)
Joe Carrano Be Amazed Radio (3:42)
Neil Case Island Groove Radio (3:26)
Tom Stephan All Right All Night Dub Radio (4:11)
Boris Blind Faith Club (8:25)
Tom Stephan All Right All Night Dub (7:03)
Perry Twins Los Angels And Demons Club (7:57)
Joe Carrano Be Amazed Club (8:17)
Offer Nissim Forever Tel Aviv Club (8:47)
Joe Carrano New World Radio (3:36)

Here’s a link to her official site:

Did I mention she’s appearing at this weekend’s Minneapolis Gay Pride Festival along with Expose’ (the original group is back together!) and Kat DeLuna (of Whine Up, Run The Show fame). And guess what? I gots me some tickets! I am usually am not a big supporter of the whole Gay Pride Celebration. It’s so damn commercial and cliché… it’s just not my thing – but I do support those for whom this is an important event. But with Ms. Kristine on the scene, I will be celebrating this year.

I also plan on spending some time out in the woods and getting a little sun. Maybe getting a little something else too, if you know what I mean what I mean. Have a great weekend. I intend to. And get out there and snap up a copy of Kristine W’s latest. Such a talent deserves all the support and love we can show her.

Thursday, June 18, 2009

The Guy Who Hates Me (And Why I Stopped Breathing)

Okay, so I told you about the guy I hate. Now I figure it is only fair that I tell you the story of the guy who hates me.

We’ll call him Robin.

One day, in the late, late 90’s, I was cruising a park, walking along a trail, when I passed this really, really cute guy. I kept walking. I figured he was way out of my league, so why bother. Rejection, I don’t need.

He was shorter than me (I’m 6’1”, he was about 5’ 7”), younger than me (by at least six years), and looked to be in good condition (hwp). He was dressed kind of preppy: in a polo shirt and a pair of army green cargo shorts. My eyes were immediately drawn to his calves, which were quite nice. He had a nice healthy tan. His hair was cut nicely (sort of a modified bowl cut) and he had a full head of auburn hair streaked with highlights. He had a long face which angled into a nice, strong chin, a nose that was straight and perfectly suited to his face, and generous lips (especially the bottom one). His best feature: a set of brown eyes that were large and luminous; they seem to hold a great sadness and indicate a bit of mischievousness at the same time.

But I kept walking. And walking. Until I had to turn back and walk the way I came. That’s when I ran into him for a second time and he said “hi”. Kind of bashful. Very cute. He also indicated that I should follow him. He took me off the main path into a grouping of trees surrounded by brush. We played with each other’s crotches. We slowly leaned into one another’s lips. Really slowly. And we kissed. It was… perfect. He then unsheathed his dick and indicated with a sly smile and a nod of the head that he wanted me to blow him. I obliged, still not believing my luck. His dick was perfect; somewhere between 8.5 and 9” and nicely thick. He smelled wonderful, too. It was like one of those guys in a cologne ad coming to life, bumping into you in the woods and telling you to suck their dick. Perhaps shorter in stature than you expected, but just as cute and dreamy.

He liked my technique. I liked his dick. He came, I came and then we just kept kissing, until I couldn’t hold my glee anymore and went off laughing. It was such a nice encounter.

So imagine my surprise when I got an email via my work account from a fellow employee telling me it was nice to finally meet me and that he had a good time. I was floored. I asked him if he had time to meet me for a cup of coffee in the cafeteria. He did.

We became fast friends. And cruising buddies. And fuck buddies.

At the time I wasn’t much of a bottom and in the four years we hung out with one another we never went there. We tried three-ways (not his thing – because I think he disapproved of the others involved). He would mostly watch. Sex consisted mostly of me giving him head, getting naked and lots of making out. And talking. We liked a lot of the same things. He was devoted to his dog; a cute little white Scotty. We liked the same shows (Sex in the City, The Simpsons, etc.), movies and music. He turned me on to Kylie, I turned him onto the Killers. We met for lunch. We went shopping. We cruised the skyways of downtown Minneapolis. It was fun.

We shared lots of secrets.

Robin was a former fatty. You would never have known it. He did it all by dieting and walking. He was regimented about his eating habits. I think that is where the sadness in his eyes came from, for he seemed to carry around a chip on his shoulders – not an angry chip, just a sad one - like he expected to be disappointed or hurt or to become a fat kid again.

I think Robin was also kind of a snob. The company we worked for at the time attracted snobs; fashion snobs, cultural and educational snobs, status snobs. I’m not a snob, so that is part of the reason I never fit in well and only stayed there for six years. But Robin… he was a snob. He liked designer labels. He liked possessions. He liked status. The brand of car he drove was an reflection of who he was. So were the shoes and where he bought them and how much he (or most likely his partner) paid for them.

He complained about his partner a lot. I complained about my bf, too. But there was something mean and pointed about the way Robin tore into his partner’s shortcomings. I frequently got the sense that his situation was a temporary one and that his current partner was just a stepping stone to something better.

Then we started visiting each other’s houses. That’s when things got complicated.

We got caught in the shower together by my bf, who was pissed as hell, but came to accept Robin as my buddy rather quickly (and surprisingly). Then Robin insisted that we (my bf and I) meet his partner – whom we’ll call Ted. The four of us were never sexual together – because Ted didn’t know anything about my relationship with Robin and my bf was just not a very sexual being. Also, at the time that kind of thing just would not have occurred to Ted. From Ted’s POV, I was just a work colleague of Robin’s.

Ted was in finance and from a wealthy family. Robin would get a large amount of cash each year from Ted’s parent’s at Christmas time; money which he would tuck away in a savings account. They shared a huge home. They drove expensive automobiles. Robin got to do pretty much what he wanted with his money, as I suspected Ted paid all the bills. Ted was funny, articulate, well-educated, opinionated and very real. Very well grounded. He had a sweet side to him. He was also a bit stiff, which I think had to do with his waspy origins.

Physically, Ted was my age, taller than me (probably 6’5), bald, with a big goofy smile, big ears, and large hands. I was in lust the moment he shook my hand. His fingers were so thick. He was in great shape, too. I wanted to see him naked so badly. But, while I flirted a bit, I never made a move on him. I also had to constantly fight the desire to pluck the hairs that grew in his ears.

The four of us, or the three of us (Robin, Ted and I) would do things together; go out to eat, go to the orchestra, rollerblading, etc.

Thing continued like this for about two years. Then Ted and Robin broke up. Robin had saved up enough money for a down payment on a condo downtown and announced that it was over. End of story. It was weird. My bf and I continued to see the two of them socially – separately. I kept getting the sense that I was supposed to choose one or the other – that was my first mistake. Ted and I began hanging out together alone, mostly having dinner after work. He was sweet and a bit lost without Robin. I really liked him.

I rationalized the situation; I thought Robin would do fine without me. He was younger than Ted, my bf and I. He was good-looking. I thought Ted needed my friendship more.

Somehow, Robin picked up on my loyalty to Ted. He resented it – I guess - because we never really talked about it. He stopped talking to me. I failed to notice at first, but then one day, after not having spoken for three weeks I saw him in the cafeteria at work. I was with a group of co-workers who knew that Robin and I were friends. I walked over to him and started to talk to his back, as he faced a display case of sandwiches. He never turned around. I said hello – several times. He never answered back. I ended up feeling just ridiculous. He ignored me; acted as if I did not exist. My co-workers asked me what was up, but I just smiled and shrugged it off.

I guess I had it coming.

I emailed him later. He never wrote back.

Later that week, my bf called me at work. Robin and Ted (who were still battling over custody of the dog) had a fight, during which Robin spilled the beans and told Ted everything about everything. Ouch.

I ran into Ted a few weeks later, hiking. He ignored me. I guess that is what people in polite society do in these situations. They pretend the person, whom previously was a friend, but has now been revealed to be a tramp and a liar, simply no longer exists.

I’ve run into Robin, too. Many, many times. To this day we still cruise the same parks. Once he sees me he always walks in the opposite direction. Once I parked my car next to him, got out and tried to talk to him through the closed window of his vehicle (I know, how desperate, huh?). He just sat staring straight ahead. I told him I was not sure what I had done wrong, but that I apologized and that I never meant to hurt anyone. I would repeat the same speech the next time I ran into Ted in public. His reaction was cryptic, dismissive and brief. And then he walked away.

Several years later, I was chatting on line with a former fuck buddy, when he told me about the new man in his life - his new partner, Ted. The fuck buddy, whom we’ll call fuck buddy, knew the whole sordid story about Ted, Robin, my bf and myself. He told me he was working on Ted. He thought Ted needed to get over it. I was grateful for the fuck buddy’s efforts, but told him I wasn’t holding my breath.

A side note: The fuck buddy was a big bottom, and a very, very gay one. He was a screamer. And if anybody was going to get Ted to loosen up, it was this guy – because he was as big a whore, if not bigger, than I was. He also had a huge dick (11’ and thick). All I could think of was him taking it up the ass with Ted. I’d like to see that. Hell, I’d like to be part of that.

Well, Ted did eventually loosen up - enough to talk to me several times over the years at gay pride, where I could be found working a booth (retail, not glory hole). He and the fuck buddy are still together (that I know of) and when last I spoke to them, Ted was experimenting sexually and the two of them were hosting the occasional third party. Lucky fucks.

Robin on the other hand, continues to give me the cold shoulder and walk the other way when he sees me. I always make a point of saying hello when we actually pass one another on the trail – sometimes almost out of spite. I don’t see any reason why we should pretend we didn’t know each other once upon a time. I have my hopes up just the teeniest of bits because this year, when we passed and I said hello, he actually said hello back. Not that he met my eyes or stopped. But facile civility is better than nothing. And I know better – Robin is proud and stubborn – we will never be friends again. I just don’t want to be THAT GUY for him. I don’t want him to hate me. But I don’t control things either.

I would just like closure, if nothing else. I’d like to know what I did that was so wrong..

Robin fell off the diet wagon a bit. He is looking a little chunky. I’m not sure where he is working or living.

I miss him - which is why I keep saying ‘hello’ when I see him.

I have a habit of forming intense, fun friendships that for some reason or another end up with the other party not talking to me anymore. So it is about me. It’s also about them.

I don’t have any such friends at the moment. Haven’t for some time. I think that part of my life is over. It’s not that I wouldn’t risk it, if I found someone I thought would be my friend. But at this point I’m just not holding my breath.

In some ways, I know I’ll never breathe again.

Friday, June 12, 2009

That Guy! (And trust me, he ain't no Marlo Thomas)

So there’s this guy…

He’s been around for years now, haunting the same places that I cruise and haunt.

I hate him.


Because he’s always situating himself into my assignations.

It’s gotten to the point where, if I see him hulking about, I just go back to my car and leave.

It all began about nine years ago, when I began cruising certain areas of the metro for sex. It began innocently enough; I was playing with a dude and this guy walks up and starts to play with us. At that time he didn’t look too bad, kind of goofy looking, maybe dorky even, but okay (Blonde, curly hair, nice lips, reasonably young, probably younger than he looks). He looked to be about 28 – then (now? Ick!). His bod, at that time was white and pasty and a little on the soft side, doughy. But it turned out he had a big dick – like probably eight and half inches and thick – IF IT EVER GOT HARD – which it never did, has or does. It just hangs there like a big pale white worm. He won’t let you touch it or suck it. But he will yank on yours like he’s trying to pull start a lawn mower. No finesse, no sensitivity, just grunt force. In any case, I give him a free pass the first time. I’ll do almost anything/anyone once.

But apparently THAT GUY doesn’t take hints well. In fact he seems to bulldoze right through common convention – and not in a good way. He’s a clod; absolutely not one iota of etiquette exists in his entire being.

He likes to watch. And touch. And get right in there between you and the guy you’re being intimate with.

He also likes to drive his black Saturn ION really fast, as in, pulling out and into parking stalls and parking lots at speeds not recommended and scurrying like a rat on Tina from one parking lot to another. His frequent comings and goings are quite alarming, dangerous and very attention getting – but the wrong kind of attention. The car was once brand new. It is now dented and scratched and probably looks like hell on the inside. Recently I saw him driving around with a house plant in the front seat and a bunch of junk in the back seat. It made me think that perhaps his roommate had finally had enough of his shit and kicked him out. The idea of him being homeless kind of warms my cockles and, if true, would help explain the recent deterioration of his looks (not that he had far to plunge).

He now looks like shit. His hair is too long and scraggly. He has put on weight. His face carries a permanent screwed up expression – like he has just caught a whiff of himself and realizes he needs a flea dip. He’s aging badly and he’s still relatively young (under 40).

For several years, I watched with a mixture of awe and disgust as THAT GUY continued to insert his being into sexual situations he neither created nor contributed to. I tolerated him.

Now I loath him.

We finally had a showdown about four years ago. I was being flattered by the attentions of this really macho bi-sexual, bi-racial dude in a black pick-up truck. He was fucking hot – in a slightly trashy way and I wanted him any way I could have him. I don’t meet many honest to god bi-sexuals (at least not many that will have anything to do with me). But this was the real deal and I was psyched.

We met in the parking lot near a wildflower garden and were eyeing each other. I was aware of the presence of THAT GUY. He was lurking in his car on the other side of the parking lot, watching me interact with the guy in the black pick-up. The guy in the pick-up – we’ll call him Pete – wanted to go park somewhere and have me suck his dick. He then got into his pick up truck and motioned for me to come over for a peek. He unzipped and pulled out a nice fatty – at least nine inches. I was drooling. I would have followed him anywhere. So he suggests that we head over to this other parking lot, near the beach. He takes off and I follow.

So does THAT GUY.

We get to the other parking lot and Pete rolls down his window. He notices THAT GUY and is uncomfortable with the situation. I understand and suggest another place. We go there. So does THAT GUY. This goes on for three more moves to three more parking lots. Finally I get out and recommend that we head out to a different park altogether and tell Pete to take the lead and I will follow.

Pete leaves. I follow. So does THAT GUY (who, by the way, has ignored my glares – I think he may be immune to facial expressions). Pete is doing his best to assure that our destination is not obvious, taking odd side roads. I keep thinking THAT GUY will give up and go haunt someone else, but no. Every time I glance in the rearview mirror, there he is, his pustulant mug glowing behind his windshield. As we approach a stop light, I slow down. I allow Pete to drive through. I then time it so there is absolutely no way that THAT GUY can make it through the light and then I gun through. I figure we are home free and that Pete and I are free to go to our agreed upon spot.

As I am hopping into Pete’s truck, I glance over – and there he is – THAT GUY, across the street in his car. I watch as he pulls over and parks. He is at least 20 yards from us and can’t see a damn thing, but still he sits there. Pete is blissfully unaware. He shoves his jeans to around his ankles and tells me to go for it. So I take a big hit of poppers and have him rock hard in no time. I’m really enjoying it, except I have to keep glancing over my shoulder and out the window to make sure THAT GUY is maintaining his distance. He is. Pete shoots a big, tasty load of baby batter down my throat, zips up and we sit chatting a bit. He talks about his girlfriend and about how rarely he does this sort of thing, blah, blah, blah. But Pete is a charmer and I am still warm from the buzz of his cock down my throat (not to mention the poppers), so I am more than happy to listen to him prattle on. Finally, we part ways.

As I’m walking to my car, I stare daggers in the direction of THAT GUY and, much to my amazement, he takes off. I drive back to one of the parking lots at the other park. Maybe I am thinking about finding another cock or maybe I want to relax until the full effect of the poppers wears off. I park and not more then a minute later, who zooms in? THAT GUY. He’s smart enough to not park next to me. Instead he takes up a position at the end of this circle drive, so his car is at a right angle to my own and he can stare at me from there.

That’s it for me. I back out, go around the circle drive and position my vehicle right behind his, so there is no way for him to back out and zoom away. I get out of my car and walk up to his open driver’s window and crouch down so I’m on his level. I tell him, “Dude. What you are doing is not cool. So knock it off.” He starts making noises like he has no idea what I am talking about. I tell him that his driving is reckless and attracts the wrong kind of attention. I tell him that stalking is not cool and that he is to leave me the fuck alone. I then, dramatically, finish with… “Listen. Do not fuck with me.” I then walk back to my car and drive home.

Given my obvious and stated dislike for THAT GUY… don’t you think he would take the hint?

He has. Sort of. But his behavior hasn’t changed one iota. He now hulks past me on trails and does his best to ignore me when we run into one another when I am alone. But if I happen to be in the middle of something with someone he doesn’t hesitate to insert himself into the mix. WTF? In doing so, he either ruins it for both myself and the other guy, resulting in the other guy walking away – or he ruins it for me. Is that his mission in life? To ruin it for me?

Most recently he inserted himself into a blow job I was giving this cute college guy. This guy always wears a sweatshirt or a t-shirt with the name of his college on it. He’s one of those cute, young, hippy types who ooze patchouli and body musk. He likes me, for some reason – probably because I give great head. So, there I am, working away on college boy, when THAT GUY appears. I try to ignore him. But college boy is intrigued and indulges his presence. So THAT GUY takes this as a sign of approval, approaches, stands behind college boy and proceeds to make a general nuisance of himself (from my POV).

I have yet to tell him off (again). I don’t like making scenes. I feel one should never have to voice the obvious. I resist telling him to get lost, because I’m afraid that the dude I’m with will decide it reflects negatively on me – like I’m some sort of BJ Diva or drama queen. So I hold my tongue (usually in some guy’s ass or wrapped around his tonsils or dick). I ask myself, am I being a wimp? Should I assert my ground, mark my territory? I would, but it’s really not mine to mark. For that is the nature of fucking around in nature – you’re kind of out there for everybody to see and therefore subject to intrusion.

Still, this fact does nothing to abate my disdain for THAT GUY.

I have never mentioned my disdain to any of the other regulars who cruise where I hang out. For me, there exists some unspoken rule regarding the dissing of other nature enthusiasts – you just don’t. Period. Again – the obvious need not be stated. Also, when out on the hunt, talking isn’t exactly what I am there to do. And then again it’s difficult to have a conversation when your mouth is full of cock. So I doubt I will ever say anything.

Instead I will just bitch about it here.

What I really want to know is… does this kind of person happen to anyone else? I can’t be the only one THAT GUY bugs.

And then – there is the very real possibility that for someone else – I AM THAT GUY! Think about it. I hang around the same spots as THAT GUY. I run into the same guys over and over again. Some are semi-regulars, some are competition. I run into guys who have made it very obvious that they want nothing to do with me. The difference is… I respect that. I keep moving. I take ‘no’ for an answer. I also run into guys who are my direct competitors, some whom I have practically taken the meat out of their mouths and to place it in mine.

I’ve found when a newbie comes on the scene I usually have a good shot at scoring. That’s because I go to the gym and keep my hygiene pristine. And I’m a nice guy. Respectful. Sensitive. Aware. So I can see why some of the regulars (who keep letting themselves go) might begrudge my presence. That said, if there is a better looking a guy there… and, trust me, they don’t have to be that great looking to be better looking than me – then the shoe is on the other foot and I am the one pouting in the bushes, snubbed and ignored. Hey – survival of the fittest. What goes around comes around – sometimes in your mouth, sometimes in the mouth of a better looking dude.

I also make it a rule never to follow around a couple once they hook up and seem committed to play with only each other. I never try to insert myself where I am wanted. I can take a hint. There are guys who don’t take the hint. They want to watch. They want to be involved. Me – I almost always take the hint. If someone moves away from me a second time… I walk the other way. Again – common courtesy – because when the shoe is on the other foot – being stalked is annoying.

Of course, there is one guy I know who hates me. But we have a long history and at one time he very much did not hate me. In fact, we were best fuck buds. But now, he not only gives me the cold shoulder. In fact he’s a bit hostile about the whole thing in spite of my attempts to apologize for the things I think he might hate me for. I’ll share that story another time.

Bottom line: I treat others as I want to be treated. I very, very, very rarely make scenes when cruising outdoors. I think I am sensitive to the basic etiquette that the situation requires. That etiquette needs to remain in place, or else nobody has any fun.

And that is what it’s supposed to be all about, right? Fun.

Well, somebody please tell THAT GUY.

He doesn’t seem to get it, and I don’t seem to be able to enlighten him.

Please, don't be THAT GUY.

Tuesday, June 02, 2009

Tappa, Tappa, Tappa

Lisa Simpson: Yeah, well, no offense, but maybe I need a little more instruction than just "tappa-tappa-tappa".

Little Vicki: Why, back when I was your age, I had 43 movies under my belt, and I had to do it without tappa-tappa-tappa. I would've killed for tappa-tappa-tappa.

That quote is from one of my favorite Simpson’s episodes, where Lisa Simpson tries to learn how to tap dance.

I’m no stranger to tap. I've done my share of tapping. But something weird is afoot at my place of employment. It’s been going on for about three months now and I’ve decided to go public about it.

First off, I work on the top floor of an office building. The office is in the middle of no-where (not really, it just feels like it). There are actual fields of grass and lots of wooded areas close at hand. I work for a really large company. Near the main elevators and stairway is a small lobby. In that lobby are restrooms for both sexes. These are the large restrooms on the floor – centrally located. There are two other restrooms for men on the floor, but they are single stall units. The centrally located men’s room has two stalls. I like using the centrally located one because it is larger and the stall against the wall feels very private.

Maybe too private.

No one should Tap Dance in the workplace.

I’ve only worked on this floor for about six months. In the past three months I have been tapped at while in the stall over a dozen times by at least four individuals. Seriously tapped at. I absolutely know the identity of three of the tappers because (and this makes me question their intelligence) they wear their picture ID badge on their belts and when sitting on the toilet with their pants around their ankles it is easy to read their badges.

The first time it happened it was this really, really cute Jewish boy who has the most incredible ass I have seen in some time. Huge bubble butt, looks great in pants. I’ve admired it at a distance for quite some time now, but discreetly. I have never had an actual conversation with him. He is tall, in his late 20’s, in good shape and has curly reddish brown hair and freckles. He’s a football enthusiast for this one particular team, as his cube is filled with posters, banners and team-related crap. I’d do him in a heart beat, except he’s kind of a jerk – never saying hello or smiling when we pass in the hall. He was the first tapper. We played this tapping game for like twenty minutes. He had on a pair of very large brown loafers. They made my mouth water. I left first and hid around the corner to see who would come out and sure enough… it was my bubble butt boy. He’s tapped me twice since, but nothing ever happens. And that’s cool… BECAUSE WE’RE AT WORK AND NOTHING SHOULD HAPPEN.

One guy is this creative-type, a bike enthusiast. He’s about my age, bald, short and cute. He has a wife and three kids. He’s tapped me twice. He is sweet and yes, I’d do him. Only I won’t – BECAUSE WE’RE AT WORK AND NOTHING SHOULD HAPPEN.

Then there is this guy I don’t really care for too much. He’s a touch overweight, sweet, nice, articulat
e, a bit of a brown-noser (no, not in that way). When I first joined the company I had a one on one with him so I could learn about what he does. I pegged him for a married guy who sucks dick right away. It was only after he tapped his foot on three separate occasions that my suspicions were confirmed. He has a wife. She is sweet. I met her at our company holiday party. Nothing is going to happen there… ever. Because I’m not into him, in spite of the fact that I admire his footwear and BECAUSE WE’RE AT WORK AND NOTHING SHOULD HAPPEN.

The fourth guy remains unidentified.

Now when, on my way to the can, I see one of the above identified tappers on their way to the can, I detour and use a different can. No need to invite disaster… it has its way of finding me anyway.

There was a time in my life when understall action was a real turn on for me and a real part of my life. I was working downtown at the time. There were several public restrooms in various shopping facilities and hotels that were infamous for such activity. They were a constant source of amusement for me. I met so many people that way, people I still, on occasion, will run into. A few actually became friends. Briefly.

The scene taught me a lot about human nature and the types of people who partake in such activities. At the time, I guess I was obsessed. Obsessed enough to seek counseling which ended after three sessions. The third session, after describing a typical week’s activities, the counselor looked at me and said it sounded like fun and that I had nothing to worry about. And that was that. Why go back?

I no longer work downtown. Though I have revisited, as a tourist, a few of the hot spots from that time period, I’ve never returned to resume my residency. Mainly because it’s all changed. Cameras installed. Stall partitions lowered. Minneapolis: City of No Fun.

Leaving downtown broke the spell. On occasion I will check out a restroom. I still revel at naughty graffiti scrawled on a stall wall or the occasional evidence of ‘activity’. But my obsession has moved to the great outdoors. And now that seems to be getting old as well.

I have never come upon a true glory hole. The occasional peep hole, but never a true glory hole. So I have yet to experience the appeal of that stall wall feature. But I have done everything conceivably possible under the wall of a stall. I still know of two active restrooms. I just don’t visit them (often).

I have never, nor will I ever, tap dance with another at my place of residence. There are just way too many risks involved.

Besides, once you know who it is on the other side of the partition the romance is over – tap, tap.