Introduction:
Work jeans
and steel-toed boots. A soiled wife
beater. A tool belt. A big-ass truck with a ladder in the
back. An industrial van full of power
tools. And, of course, one specific
power tool that will always have a certain segment of the gay male population
drooling. Blue Collar men.; this is the
stuff of vintage gay porn. And if
they’re a little sweaty? A little
soiled? A little ripe?
They’re all the hotter for it.
In our little homo dreams, these are hard -working
men working (we wish) hard. That tent in
those well-worn Levis remains the focus of many of our wildest fantasies and
desires.
These are the
men who in real life haunt the aisles of hardware stores. The denizens of lumber stores. You see them in Menards and Home Depot. You see them sweating in the summer months on
the sides of our most traveled roadways.
Some of us can only imagine what their lives are like, while others are
brave enough, strong enough and man enough to live that life. The masculine,
frequently hyper-macho world that they occupy and navigate through is filled
with under-educated, bigoted, ignorant mother fuckers… but those with a lick of
sense see through such bravado and stupidity, lending their ilk a kind of grace
and quiet, rugged civility that makes gay men moan and salivate just to be in
their presence.
They are
iconic; the stuff of many a gay pulp novel, and immortalized in idealized
drawings by the likes of Tom Finland.
Joe Gage exposed this dominion’s fantastic, dirty gay underbelly in
three revolutionary gay films: Kansas
City Trucking Co. (1976), El Paso
Wrecking Corp. (1978), and L.A. Tool
& Die (1979), fueling the masturbatory imaginations of generations to…
cum (I love a good pun).
The allure of
the Blue Collar man is obvious to anyone who appreciates real men and is not
afraid of a little sweat or getting their hands dirty. They are not for the shallow, designer-label
queens – the two universes rarely mesh well.
All right,
men, let’s strip away their ripped, grime-stained 501’s and toss aside those
sweat-filled tees. But tell them to
leave on their thick woolen socks, well-worn jocks, and ripe, broken-in work
boots (the better to fuck us in) and venture a peek beneath those perspiration
soaked pits, get down to brass tacks, take a tug on their eraser size nips, plug
in their power tool, and see just what it is that makes us lust for…
Blue Collar Men
Scope of Activity:
A sexual
appreciation by gay men for Blue Collar workers and those gay men who are
sexually stimulated by being part of a Blue Collar workforce. This does not include those who have a fetish
for the clothing (work jeans, steel toe boots, wife-beaters, etc.) or the
trappings (hard hats, work gloves, tool belts, etc.) of such.
Does not
include: Cowboys, Ranch Hands, Farmers, or Service Industry Personnel (Delivery
Men, Garbage Men, etc.), Truckers, or Mechanics (all of whom will probably be the
subject of some future Acquired taste entries)
Does include:
Construction Workers, Plumbers, Electricians, Carpenters, Landscapers, Road
Crew Members, Cable Installers, Warehouse Personnel, Factory Workers, House
Painters, Contractors, Rehab Crews, House Builders, Roofers, Coal Miners, Steel
Workers, Dock Workers, Moving Men
The Official Line:
From Wikipedia:
A blue-collar worker is a member of
the working class who performs manual labor. Blue-collar work may involve
skilled or unskilled, manufacturing, mining, construction, mechanical,
maintenance, technical installation and many other types of physical work.
Often something is physically being built or maintained.
In contrast, the white-collar worker
typically performs work in an office environment and may involve sitting at a
computer or desk. A third type of work is a service worker (pink collar) whose
labor is related to customer interaction, entertainment, sales or other service
oriented work. Many occupations blend blue, white and/or pink (service)
industry categorizations.
Blue-collar work is often paid hourly
wage-labor, although some professionals may be paid by the project or salaried.
There is a wide range of pay-scales for such work depending upon field of
specialty and experience.
Industrial and manual workers often
wear durable canvas or cotton clothing that may be soiled during the course of
their work. Navy and light blue colors conceal potential dirt or grease on the
worker's clothing, helping him or her to appear cleaner. For the same reason,
blue is a popular color for coveralls which protect a worker's clothing. Some
blue collar workers have uniforms with the name of the business and/or the
individual's name embroidered or printed on it.
Historically the popularity of the
color blue among manual laborers contrasts with the popularity of white dress
shirts worn by men in office environments. The blue collar/white collar color
scheme has socio-economic class connotations. However, this distinction has
become blurred with the increasing importance of skilled labor, and the
relative increase in low-paying, white-collar jobs.
The term blue collar was first used in
reference to trades jobs in 1924, in an Alden, Iowa newspaper.
I failed to find a specific term for the fetishism of the
blue collar worker. Perhaps, because it has been so prevalent in the gay
community for so long, its existence is simply assumed and such definition is
not warranted. Japan has a genre of art
called Bara that touches upon this
fetish. In America, the Blue Collar
worker has traditionally been the subject of both gay pulp novels, pictorials,
and porn. In San Francisco, the garb of
the construction worker was such a part of scene, it even managed its way into
the consciousness of mainstream society via Mark Mussler in The Village People. He was not my ideal of a construction worker,
but hey, it was the 1970’s and I think Jacques Morali was lucky to sneak the
leather dude past Midwest America. In
light of this, I think a construction worker with more mojo would have been simply
too much.
Psychological
Aspects:
Power: masculine power, muscle power, macho man,
bull-balls, power.
They built America.
The build the world. So we bestow
upon them a well-earned place in our collective psyches. For gay men, that has a sexual
component. It takes muscles to do hard
work. Muscles are sexy; we imagine them
flexing and bending our physical selves.
Muscles equal power.
Then there is the sweat and grime. This lack of fear of getting their hands
dirty, of sweating it out, of powering through it… reinforces their
relationship to their work and cements our appreciation for their efforts. Writers may put words to painters. Artists, paint to canvas. But these motherfuckers? They really build things. They move America and the world. They do work that matters.
The fact that they do this and, typically, do so with a
lack of pretension and little need for recognition beyond a beer at the end of
the day and a paycheck at the end of the week places them in a rare, coveted
category of men… they are REAL MEN. They
can be the biggest bottom, the nelliest of queens – but as long as they meet
their deadlines, haul ass, and use their brute force to transform our physical
world into the world we need to function via infrastructure, housing, and the
like? Then they are real men.
And we want to have sex with them.
Precautions:
Never assume your Blue Collar man is an idiot, has no
knowledge of art, has never read a book, or can’t whip up a nice evening gown
or three-layer cake when the occasion demands it. Sure, there is a possibility that a majority
of these real men have no interest in any of those things, but one should never
assume a superior knowledge of cultural endeavors. Just as a real woman can bring home the bacon
and fry it up in a pan… the same goes for a real man.
Unless you ARE a Blue Collar man, don’t try to dress like
one. As with Mark Mussler of the Village
People, those of who appreciate them can spot a poser a mile away.
Getting sweaty and dirty at work does not mean your Blue
Collar man doesn’t like to smell good.
Always check that armpit for deodorant before running your tongue
through his arm bush.
Just because your Blue Collar man is all muscled up and
butch, don’t assume that he doesn’t take it up the ass. Macho-fucking power bottoms are hot.
Unless you ARE a Blue Collar man, don’t visit your Blue
Collar man at his job site. Dude has to
deal with enough bullshit from his fat-necked, ignorant co-workers. Don’t make your man suffer more.
Just because you hire a bunch of roofers, or landscapers,
or a hot plumber or electrician, do not oogle them to obviously. Eye candy is great, but they are there to
perform their job for you, so be classy and only sneak the occasional peek
(like when that plumber has his head under your kitchen sink with his bod
sprawled out on your floor). And NEVER
hit on them. If they want a little
something, something - let them be the
ones to ask (or demand).
My Experience:
I have that
white collar thing going on… and that is because I like having health
insurance, access to technology, daily access to a kick ass gym, and a 401k
with stock options. Also I don’t mind
parking my lazy ass behind a desk for up to eight hours a day (it gives me time
to write and surf the net).
But… there is
this other side to me… and I am sure I am not unique in this – but I have my
Blue Collar side, too. Okay, so I may not
be everyone’s idea of Blue Collar, but I do rehab houses. I am part of a four member LLC. We have seven rental properties. We bought them when the housing market went
to hell, dirt cheap, fixed them up, installed security systems, fenced the
yards (we actively encourage dog ownership and the adoption of dogs in need of
rescue), and brought them all up to code.
I do all the painting. And the
cleaning. And the landscaping. I will help out with installing new windows,
doors, replacing floors, and the like. I
even learned how to install lighting fixtures – which, with my healthy fear of
electricity – was a major undertaking.
Therefore, I
got to hang out in these bombed out houses for hours and hours and hours. Usually on the weekends. Usually alone. Or… maybe not so alone.
I missed out
on it with my first rehab, but by the second house, I was internet savvy enough
to get dudes to come meet me and then meat me!
It has made for some hot encounters.
By my third house, I was running tricks through like cars at a car
wash. Sure, it didn’t always work. Not everybody is into that kind of scene –
too messy, too anonymous, too skanky.
But those that were into it (and those are the only ones that have ever
mattered); we had us some butt-fucking good times.
Typically I
would invite them over and have them walk in on me, naked with my ass up in the
air. I thought it would be like walking
into an abandoned house and finding some stupid whore hole waiting for
sperm. Did I feel like a slut? Oh, yeah.
And that was part of its appeal.
For those coming to fuck me, I think the appeal had to do with the
setting and the idea of shoving their tool into someone who might be considered
Blue Collar. Sometimes I would leave on
my painter pants – a pair of ripped up, dirty, sloppy 501’s. This would add to the illusion. I was almost
always sweaty and dirty.
By my fifth
house, one-on-one action still cut it, but I began adding into the mix
multiples. The most I ever got to come
to a house at one time, as in, a tag teaming event, was four. It was late at night, in the summer, so we
were sweating up a stream. Of the guys:
one was not hot… so much so I was rude and kind of left him on his own, one was
this dude who has fucked me before – he tends to like to dom, cum, and leave,
and on this occasion it was no different, one dude was this sweet versatile guy
that I have played around with before (but no more – he always has a dirty ass)
and I think he was there primarily to watch, and one hot dude who actually was
there for a tag team event and left minus his nut, but disappointed none the
less. I left disappointed too, but hey,
they can’t all be the Indy 500.
Setting up a
Blue Collar scene does not guarantee a hot time. By my sixth house? I was going through the motions. I tried different scenes, even set up a
temporary glory hole, but it all left me wanting. If I ever rehab another house at this
point? I have a feeling that I’ll just
be hiring other people to take care of shit for me. Sure, I might have sex in the empty house,
but I’m through thinking I’m somebody I’m not.
The LLC is successful enough that we can now afford to hire people to do
stuff, and my dick is just not into it – namely all the work - anymore.
When I worked
downtown, I managed a presentation space that put me in direct contact with all
sorts of contractors, painters, dry wall guys, electricians, etc. It was fun,
and it gave me a glimpse into their world.
Some were hot as hell, and others were just sweet. I never had a bad experience with any of them
and I assumed they all knew I was gay as hell.
If they minded, they never said anything or sneered at me. Sometimes they made me feel like one of the
crew. Nothing of a sexual nature ever happened there (with them) – it would
have jeopardized my relationship with them and been too unprofessional (yes, I
do have SOME standards).
When I was in
theatre, I built a lot of sets with a lot of hunks. I was too shy and sexually inexperienced at
the time – and maybe in a bit of denial – and never initiated any kind of sex
on the set. I did get hit on by this
SUPER cute little bearded dude once, but didn't realize he was hitting on me
until many years later. Damn, I would
have done him, too – I saw his dick once in the dressing room and it was SO
FUCKING PRETTY. Probably would have
married his ass and be living in Texas now. Such is life.
Okay,
confession time – and I’m gonna be honest with you here. Main reason I wanted to write this
entry? So I could post these
pictures! Oh, yeah. I said that!
I love me some dirty, sweaty, construction sited, jock strap wearing gay
men! And yes, I am delusional in
thinking my rehabbing houses puts me anywhere near the same category as some of
these men… but I really find dudes that lay tar and build garages damn
sexy. They do the work that makes our
lives function, and if I had the opportunity, I would gladly let them spray the
inside of my unworthy anal canal with their spirited foam.
But in the
end, I realize that pictures like the ones I am posting here, and the
occasional vid showing a construction crew getting down and dirty on the job
site, are as close as I’ll every truly come to getting sweaty with some Blue
Collar men. And I have a feeling that
may be true for many of those of us who admire these men.
Well, at
least we have the internet!
My Conclusion:
I think only
Military men can rival the sexual mystique of Blue Collar men. They are both in
a class of their own. It’s about muscle
and might. It’s about being of service
and doing one’s duty. It’s about a kind
of strength that comes through hard, back-breaking labor.
And… it all
sounds like sex, to me.
Those of us
that admire them do so in appreciation for the world that they build. We recognize their talents, their knowledge,
dedication, and hard work.
We are also able
to recognize a hottie in a pair of well-filled-out work pants and some
well-worn Dickies.
And their arm
pits.
Did I mention
their arm pits?
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