Journal

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13 January 1998 5:00pm

In the wee hours this morning, I wrote the Introduction to the site. I think I decided on a name for it as I was writing. I’ll see how I feel about it when I’m not quite so sleep deprived. I’m in no hurry. It’ll be weeks anyway before anyone sees the site, so I have time to become comfortable with it, or to change it.

I just wrote the Dedication. I hope it’s not too heavy. I just wanted to thank all those queers who have gone before us for helping to make the world we live in now a better place. I wanted to say, I won’t forget them. Je me souviens.

It’s our turn now. Our turn to help make the world a better place. For ourselves, and for those who follow behind us. That’s why I’m here.

True, in the Introduction I said that I do this in part for me. But I want to live in that better world. So, I have to make my contribution to it. It’s my responsibility. And yours.

Take my hand, as we journey to that better world.

The Journal Begins

I asked my friend Stan to review these pages before I open the site and post them. He’s a book publisher, so I figure he must know a thing or two about writing. I’ve never written anything intended for publication, either for the press or the web. I have a lot to learn, so I go to the pros for a little help.

Got a reply from my friend Margie today. We used to work at the same company. She’s still there. I fucked-up, so I’m on unemployment. I miss seeing her. I’ve never met her husband, Bruce. He must be a great guy, because he’s married to a great gal. So I invited them to dinner here. Gotta set a date, this weekend or next I think. Maybe it’ll give me the incentive I need to finish painting the apartment.

I think I’ve decided on a basic structure for the site too. Definitely no frames. I’ve got to find a server, learn how to construct a page, after deciding on the tools I’ll use. So much to be done. But after just two hours sleep last night, I need a nap.

Tuesday 13 January 1998 9:00pm

Damn! The D drive is acting up again. It didn’t spin up. Second time this has happened. Guess I’ll put a tape in and back it up tomorrow when I go out.

I’m from the old school. Code on C, data on D. Two physical drives, not one drive partitioned in two logical drives. All my e-mail, doc & xls files. The beginnings of this site. All my jpegs! Perish the thought!

I’d back it up now, but then I’d have to listen to the tape all night. It’s only a one room, very small one room apartment. Sheesh! When the bed’s folded out, there’s only 3 feet between it and the PC. I can’t sleep listening to the fan and the drives, let alone the tape whining.

Gotta get that CD-ReWriter. Back up 650MB in about 30 minutes. Sure, the damn tape is 1GB, but it takes forever! Better copy the REAL important stuff to C now.

There. I feel better. After I checked what was on the drive, I was able to dump almost a ½ gig of junk. Then I made a ZIP file of the whole D drive and placed it on C. 45 minutes, not bad. That problem’s solved. I’m trading some LAN stuff to my friend Stan for another 2GB drive later this week. So I’ll have three drives and 5GB of storage. Of course after I do that, the D drive will never hiccup again!

While that was going, I paid today’s bills. VISA was US$1,801.08!!! Gulp. I guess I’d better find cheaper hobbies while I’m out of work. Of course there were two trips to Toronto on it.

I was so glad to get to the dentist today, (US$104.) A couple of weeks ago, when I woke up the right side of my face was killing me. I couldn’t close my teeth together on that side. It’s still painful. After checking the x-rays, Dr Dan said there was no joint trouble, (TMJ,) and said I probably pulled a ligament. In my sleep, alone, I pull a jaw ligament.

Told my youngest brother Glenn about it last weekend. He said I probably had "Cockjaw." I almost hit him, but I was laughing too hard, and it hurt! I’ll tell ya, little brothers (yeah right, he’s 33 and taller than me!) sure know how to keep you in line! He’s probably right though. Reminds me, I’d better go get tested again Thursday night at the free clinic.

Boy, it just gets more confusing doesn’t it? One day, sucking-off a guy ’til he cums, but not swallowing (I miss that,) is "safer", next day sucking on him but stopping before orgasm is "risky." I’ll tell ya, I HATE the taste of latex, even those flavored ones. I wanna taste MAN, otherwise, what’s the point? Damn.

I was out Friday night. Ran into Michael-the-ex, we went over to Anthony’s 522 because Muther’s was too packed. Sat at the bar next to Jimmy W. He used to be one of the owners of Jim’s, (see the Introduction.) He told us that Stanley, one of the bartenders at Jim’s in the old days, died last month. You know, your life really stinks when you’re unemployed, out drinking on a Friday with your ex-boyfriend, sitting with an ex-employer who tells you an ex-coworker died of AIDS.

Michael-the-ex and I left and went over to The Pub. Only to hear Greg the bartender tell us that another old friend, Jimmy, died (of AIDS) over the holidays. Another exciting night on the town in Rah-cha-cha.

Now I’ve depressed myself. I’m gonna get sedated and go to bed. I feel a night of "visitations" coming on.

Wednesday 14 January, 1998 7:00pm

Just got up from my nap. Nap is my favorite time of day. I always try to squeeze one in, even if it’s only a ½ hour. Boy I needed it today. Yawn. My jaw hurts when I do that. Dr Dan said I should take ibuprofen and apply warm towels. I don’t.

It’s funny how drugs make you a hypocrite. I used for 20 years to avoid psychological pain, but I won’t take a couple of Advil.

I was thinking about that this morning driving over to see Stan-the-publisher. Thinking about how psychological pain is the method by which we grow. It’s important go grow. The earlier the better. The pains of growing up are there to teach us how to deal with life so we’re prepared to deal with the really big problems that follow. Learn how to steer around them, or tackle them and put them behind us. I avoided that learning, chemically.

I found a file on gaytoronto.com almost a year ago. Liked it, saved it. Good thing too, because it’s not there any more. It’s called "The Rules For Being Human." Don’t know who wrote it, or if it’s copyrighted. If anyone knows, e-mail me. I’d like to credit the author. It’s posted elsewhere in my site. Check it out.

I’ve resisted editing the original, but several of those rules, edited and taken together, are quite powerful. Fortunately, I have a forum where I can post the unchanged original, and paraphrase here:

"You will learn lessons. If you don’t learn lessons, they get harder. A lesson is repeated and presented to you in various forms until you learn it. Then you can go on to the next lesson. You will know you’ve learned a lesson when your actions change.

"There are no mistakes, only lessons. There are no victims, only students. ’Failure’ is as much a part of the process as ’success.’ Every person or incident is the Universal Teacher."

It’s funny how I knew all that. Somewhere, on some level. But reading the words is what made it real for me.

Both Stan-the-publisher and my therapist, Carrol, have read and commented on some of the works written so far. They’ve never met. Neither knew I’d asked the other to review my work. They made nearly identical comments to me today. Naturally their comments were colored by their own belief systems and experience, but I was blown away by the similarities. And Stan, being Stan, launched into a nearly two-hour discussion of philosophy.

My brain hurt after that. That’s why I really needed nap today. I should probably read more of Stan’s books. He writes as well as publishes. That way I can take his thinking in more manageable bite-size pieces.

Based on their comments, I’ll be editing some of the other works before I open the site. I was planning to do that anyway. I reserve the right to edit the other postings on my site, even after they’ve been posted. But I won’t be editing any of the Journal entries.

I make the same promise to you, and to me, that the online journalists I read have made. I won’t edit my Journal entries after they’ve been posted. Since it may be weeks before I actually open the site, I make a further, and perhaps more difficult, commitment. I won’t edit these entries after I’ve completed the session in which I’ve written them.

A graphic design for the site is taking hold inside my head. I’m no graphic artist, so I’ve gotta find help with that. So, I’ve got the basic structure, a graphic design, and I’m working on content. Now all I have to do is figure out how to convert all this stuff into a real working site. And find a server. And get a domain name. Thank heavens I’m unemployed so I have the time.

Bradley Twink said I can check out his copy of FrontPage 98 to see if I like it before I buy. Shhh! Don’t tell him I call him that. (He’ll probably read it on the site anyway.) He’s het, and married. But he’s so damn cute and adorable, I can’t resist a term of endearment. He’s living proof that good parents turn out good kids. His parents are both teachers. His dad was my high school science teacher in 9th and 10th grades. Hi Russ!

Wednesday 14 January, 1998 10:00pm

Just got back from my nightly haunts on the net. Nothing much happening. Nothing new even at CjH Netpics. Of course, I shouldn’t complain. Last month, some jerk blasted him for not updating one day. Earned the jerk a spot, temporarily, on Curt’s "Jeers" page. I wrote to Curt (in part):

"As far as I’m concerned, you should take off at least two days a week, and federal holidays, and all full moons, and your birthday, and a couple of weeks vacation, and if you’re not feeling well, and whenever you damn well please. Let’s not forget mental health days either!"

I’m glad he’s doing that.

There was a nice piece over on Gay.Net about being out at work. It’s never been a big issue with me. I’ve been out on every job I can remember. Of course, bartending, waiting tables and DJing at the gay bars doesn’t really count. But, I’ve DJed in straight bars, been a gas station mechanic, been a clerk for ConRail, worked in a computer store. At a trucking company I worked my up the corporate ladder to Vice-President of Information Services, even took Vince-the-ex to the company functions there. Shit, I even got him a job there in Accounts Payable.

Of course, the years we spent with the flea market business don’t really count either. We didn’t exactly put up a sign that said "This Flea Market is Proudly Owned by Fags", but we worked as any other business-owning couple did. The dealers were really accepting. A lot of them were really upset when we split up. I found that touching.

Anyway, it’s a lot less hassle at work when you’re out. You don’t have to lie when people ask how your weekend went. You don’t have to explain the pictures on your desk, hell, you can HAVE pictures on your desk. Sometimes you have to define other couples you hang out with. For instance my friends, Terry and Dale. Either name could apply to either gender. But that’s about it.

People learn that gay men are really no different from anyone else. That’s also why I have a Rainbow Flag sticker on my car, wear a rainbow necklace, rainbow or pink triangle logo shirts and stuff like that. Just so people can see WE’RE EVERYWHERE!

Funny, I’ve never had to defend stuff like that. I’ve got the perfect comeback for the "Why do you feel you have to broadcast it?" question. "Why do you have to broadcast that you’re straight? Wearing those wedding rings, pictures of children on your desk. And all that kissing and hugging in public!" Stuff like that. Never had to use it.

Broadcasting isn’t what I’m doing. Educating is. Of course, now that I’m single again, a little advertising never hurt.

Thursday 15 January 1998 9:30am

Damn. The D drive didn’t spin up again. Seems to be okay if I do a reset though. Still, it makes me nervous. Very nervous. It’s a 2GB Maxtor, either one or two years old. I bought it when I put NT on my PC. Wasn’t last summer, so it must be two summers ago, I think. But it should still under warranty. Most drive makers have a three year warranty. I’ll have to check my storage locker to find the receipt next time I’m in the basement doing laundry.

Laundry. Ugh. I have a mountain of it. Fortunately, we have three sets of machines, so I can do some "parallel processing."

Deepak from Bombay called this morning. He’s in town, staying at his aunt’s place. I thought he wasn’t due in until the 17th. Anyway, he replied to one of my fuck-buddy ads on the net. Never expected to hear from somebody half-way around the world! I have a reputation for being good, but I didn’t expect it got that far! Known around the world for being good in the sack! J Okay, it’s a fantasy.

Hmmm. Couple of recurring themes here lately. Asian guys and India. Over half the replies to my personal ads have been from Asian guys. Most everyone who pages me on Gay.Net is Asian. My fuck-buddy, Willie, is Asian. But get this, he’s from Nicaragua. Took some getting used to his accent. I’m pretty good at accents, but to hear English spoken with a Latino accent coming from an Asian face, well it’s interesting.

Then there’s India. I sent a note to the owner of my ISP. Titled it "Will Work for Bandwidth." We’ve met for the job interviews at India House Restaurant. He introduced me to Stan-the-publisher. Most of Stan’s books are either about TM and Maharishi Ayur-Veda, or translated and westernized children’s stories from India. Stan’s son, Matthew, is going to India for three or four months to live in a ashram. Then there’s Deepak who flies half-way around the world to get laid! (In my dreams!) Actually, he’s here job-hunting.

Gotta think about this. Time to meditate.

Thursday 15 January 1998 2:00pm

Got the stereo cranking. Not many people in the building weekdays. There’s a few retirees and some folks who work nights. And me. But most everyone is out. Lotsa college students at class, singles with full-time jobs, people like that. Forty-five units in all.

Not that it really matters. I’ve lived here over two years and no one’s ever complained about the stereo. Of course, I live right over the super, so I’m sure that people think that if he’s not complaining... He’s at least half-deaf. So I can get away with it. I’m really amazed. Reinforced concrete and steel high-rise, and I can make it vibrate, no, resonate. I can feel the beat in the lobby when I get my mail.

And the sound is clean. I know a few things about amps, equalizers, speakers and acoustics. As they say, knowledge is power.

Of course, I’m not the only one with a kick-ass stereo in the building. After all, it’s about half college students, so there’s lots of kick-ass stereos. But mine’s the only one that literally SHAKES the building with pounding dance music. Hehehe. Of course I’d give my eyeteeth for a Bose Lifestyle 20 system. The only system I’ve ever heard that’s better than mine.

Talked to the building manager, Linda, today. Don’t ask me why they have a super and a manager, I don’t know. But anyway, they’re gonna fix the tiles in my shower next week. While I had her on the phone, I sprung the kitchen cabinet thing on her. There’s nothing really wrong with them. They’re just UGLY. The upper ones (tacky sheet metal) are different than the lower ones, (Mediterranean plasti-wood,) and the lower ones don’t match each other.

So, she’s gonna let me rip ’em out and put new ones in. YES! She’ll even pay for the materials, up to what they’ve spent in other units. YES! So the apartment will look really good soon. Not that it looks bad now. Shortly after I moved in, I converted the "dressing room" into a walk-in closet. (She wants to take pictures. Of my CLOSET!) In October they put in new carpet, new vinyl in the kitchen, I painted and put in track lighting. And of course, all new Decora switchgear. In white. Hunnylemmetellya, you can’t be a proper faggot without Decora switches in white.

Those cabinets are a real eyesore. I’m glad she called today.

Here’s a great one. This also came in today’s mail. From the Job Service Office at Unemployment:

"Dear Mr/Ms Wilbur: [They seem to be confused about my sexuality. I’m not! It’s Mr.]

"This office has received a job listing for which you may be qualified. Please read the employers [sic] qualifications carefully. If you meet all the qualifications, please call the Job Service Office…"

The job is for VCR, camcorder and CD player repair! I’m a computer professional! And get this, it’s for US$5.15 an hour, that’s US$206 a week, BEFORE taxes! My unemployment check is US$255 a week, AFTER taxes. My last contract was US$23 per hour! Now I’m not the brightest guy in the world, but this does not look like a good deal!

Does this tell you anything about the mentality of civil service employees? Does it help explain why you can’t get your VCR fixed properly? Sheesh!

Well, winter’s finally come to Rah-cha-cha. We’ve had snow, not much, and it’s been real mild temperature-wise. This week though, man is it cold! Just about froze my ears off yesterday walking about 150 yards from the parking lot to Stan’s office. Wind chills approaching -20F, (-20C). It’s been snowing on and off all day. Looks like about six inches out there now. More to come, I’m sure. If it’s like other El Nino winters, we’re gonna get socked in March by nor’easters. And people ask why I prefer apartment living. I don’t have to shovel the shit!

Saturday 17 January, 1998 12:30am

So what am I doing here on a Friday night? Laughing my ass off, that’s what! Here’s the story:

You know I’ve been inspired to start this site by the sites of other Online Journalists. One day a couple of weeks ago, I was bored. Bored with the sites I usually haunt, bored of looking for (and at) porno, but I wasn’t really too ambitious either. I really miss LionMane’s diary. He’s been redoing the site and I thought I’d drop by to check out the changes. No dice, by the way, on updates to his diary.

Anyway, as I cruised through LionMane’s links I thought, "Gee, he gave five stars to this site months ago, and I’ve never checked it out. And cool, it’s hosted on Badpuppy." So I click on the link to Aaron Aubrey Audette. That got me started. I tore through his journal, found he’d gone on hiatus a couple of months ago. Followed Aaron’s links to his friends’ sites, checked out their journals, followed their links, etc, etc.

So I was checkin’ sites when I got home from Stan’s tonight and I see more of the usual stuff about "Oh Aaron this" and "Oh Aaron that." Sheesh! The guy gets more press than Bill Clinton!

I was feeling like some fun, so I thought, "Why not stir this pot a little bit?" I picked a few guys who write about Aaron a lot, and sent them this e-mail:

Subject: A Challenge -- Join the Search!

Okay guys, it’s been over a week. This has gone on long enough. Ooo, ooo, Aaron changed his opening screen! Ooo, ooo, is Aaron making a comeback?

C’mon! I haven’t yet decided yet if you guys are:

Too blinded by Aaron’s online persona that you failed to see the clue;

Too enamored of HTML links you’ve forgotten how to type an URL into your browser; or

In conspiracy with him to whip up his fan club into a feeding frenzy.

LAST WEEK(!) I found one unlinked page on Aaron’s Badpuppy site containing his journal entries for 16 Dec 97 and 21 Dec 97. If you don’t know where it is, (shame on you,) here’s the URL:

http://models.badpuppy.com/triplea/search.htm

So here’s the deal. Want a friendly little wager? I’m betting there are more unlinked pages in addition to the one above. If you do NOT fall into category "C" above, you are eligible to enter my little e-mail contest. If you decide to play along with my little contest, REPLY ALL to this note indicating your desire to join.

Honesty and trust are everything. You don’t know me from the proverbial bag of assholes, nor do I know you from the same. You can take advantage of me, and each other, and you’ll have only your own consciences to contend with. Here’s how it goes:

OBJECT: Find more "missing" pages. Kind of like Myst. Just like in Euchre, cheating is fair, IF YOU DON’T GET CAUGHT.

You may join the search at any time, but the search ends at 23:59 EST on 23 January 1998.

Obtaining hints from Aaron is cheating. Asking Aaron to post a new page for the purposes of the contest is also cheating.

All e-mail entries are to be posted to the entire distribution list above.

The winner for each new URL found is the first person to e-mail the URL to the members of the contest. The timestamp placed on the mail by your program determines the winner. (You can cheat here too.)

For each new URL one of you finds, I will send the winner $10.00 in US currency. (I decided on $10.00 because there’s a large body of evidence indicating Alexander Hamilton was gay, so it seems right to use the note with his picture on it.)

For each new URL I find, each one of you will send me $10.00 of your local currency (exchange finally works in the Canadians’ favour, eh?)

If you join the search after I’ve already found a new URL, you don’t get the US$10.00 for that URL, so it pays to join early!

At the end of the contest, we’ll square up, exchange postal addresses, and snail-mail any winnings to the appropriate parties.

Any winnings you collect from me, you get to keep. Any winnings I collect from you will be donated in your name to The Gay Alliance of the Genesee Valley, 179 Atlantic Ave, Rochester, NY 14607. Their phone number is 716/244-8640. I’ll scan the receipts and e-mail them to you for verification.

If you cheat, AND ARE CAUGHT, you forfeit the prize for that URL, and I’ll donate that prize to the GAGV in my name.

The maximum I can afford to lose is US$400.00. If (collectively) you find more than 40 URLs, tough nuts. Your maximum loss is limited to US$40.00, or four URLs. (If I find more than four URLs, tough nuts to me.)

NONE OF THE URLs CAN BE LINKED FROM AARON’S EXISTING PAGES. Aaron’s "Membership" pages don’t count either.

Just so you know I’m on the up-and-up, here’s my postal address now. Remember, you don’t have to give me yours unless you’ve won some bucks from me. I’ve included my phone number, just for shits and grins. I don’t want yours.

I put in the particulars, and I ended the note with:

In case you’re wondering, yeah I’m kinda an asshole, but I’m the best kind.

Sent it out at 7:49PM. And the bait was taken! YES! By 11:32PM, the replies have started coming in. Can’t wait to tell ya, but I’ve gotta get down to Muther’s and see who’s out tonite. Suffice it to say, I’m laughing. I can be just as big a tease as Aaron.

Saturday 17 January, 1998 9:20am

Laughing must look good on me. Got to Muther’s without a care in the world. Didn’t care who was there, didn’t care who wasn’t. Didn’t really care that I got an excellent parking spot. ’Til I checked my coat. He was there.

Hangin’ out between the bar and the pool table, right next to the coat check. Best place in the club to hang out when you’re cruising. That’s where I stand. Everybody goes by there at one point or another, and there’s enough light to see. Check a coat, retrieve a coat, move to the bar from the dance floor, and back to the bar. Ya even gotta go by there to get to the men’s room. Best place in Muther’s to stand when you’re cruisin’. And He was there.

Said hi to Randy, got a drink. Randy used to tend bar at Jim’s in the "old days." I had a major crush on him then. But we each had rules. I don’t go out with anybody I work with, he didn’t go out with anybody he knew. He still looks hot. I wonder if he’s changed his rules? But my attentions weren’t on Randy tonight.

Tony came over and said hi. We dated for a while this past summer. I wasn’t ready. Thought I was. That’s why I placed the personal ad in City. I still owe him a dinner.

Out of the blue a cute guy says, "Hi Bruce, they told me you were gay, I didn’t believe it." Bob. Didn’t recognize him at first, without a white shirt, tie and employee badge. One of the guys who was just starting at Kodak, as I was just leaving. Apparently I don’t register on most guys’ gaydar, even with being out-out at work. There’s the proof, I’m definitely "straight-acting." Anyway, he had his coat, and a guy. They were just leaving. I was glad. Not that I didn’t want to talk, Bob’s a nice guy, but there was Another.

When I left the apartment, I figured I’d write the "God how I need a boyfriend" piece when I got back. I’ve been composing it in my mind for a week now. Even started a page called "Wanna be my boyfriend?" Guess you’ll have to wait for that one, cause He was there.

I’d been trying to work up my courage to go over and introduce myself, since... well since the weekend before US Thanksgiving. The weekend that Michael-the-ex dumped me. I’ve seen Him there every time I’ve been in since then. Not that I go out that often, between the holidays and two trips to Toronto, I’ve been pretty scarce lately.

Got another drink from Randy. Then we began "the dance." I cruise Him, He cruises me. Just to be sure, I moved down to the other end of the bar. It was getting kinda crowded in that little area anyway. Few minutes later, He’s standing between me and the dance floor.

Whenever I’m in a dance club I make sure I can find a spot with good sightlines of the dance floor and the DJ booth. Old habits die hard. Last time I DJed, was 1982. OLD habit. They have a different DJ each of the five nights at Muther’s. Interesting concept. Keeps the music fresh, but I always wonder how well the DJ gets to know the crowd. Seems to work anyway. The Friday night DJ isn’t the best mixmaster in the world, but he reads the crowd real well and keeps ’em happy. Threw in lots of 80’s retro stuff last night. Good idea since most of the crowd was older.

I moved up to the dance floor, on the opposite side of the opening to the floor from where He was standing. Few minutes later, He brushes past me and gives me a little squeeze on the arm. "Damn," I’m thinking, "This could just put the kibosh on the ’gotta get a boyfriend’ story."

After what I figured was a polite amount of time, I headed back over to Randy’s end of the bar. Worked my way through the wall of bodies. Emerging, He was right there. I said "Aw, fuck it!" and took the plunge.

At 40 years old, out for 22 years, I’ve never hit on a guy before. Didn’t have to. They were always hitting on me, then there were 15 years with Vince-the-ex, and two years of licking my wounds after. That’s why it took me so long to work my courage up. I’d NEVER DONE IT before. Not with a real guy anyway. Strippers, rentboys, guys like that. But they’re professionals and they can see you coming, so they make it real easy for you. And you know they’ll always say yes.

In fact, it was with a stripper at Remington’s in Toronto when I first came up with "The Line." A Monday night last July, this guy’s first night as a dancer there. Lemme tell ya, he was HOT. I don’t go for the pumped and buff musclehead hunks they usually have at Remington’s, so this guy really stood out. Twink, about my height and build, beautifully defined, shoulder length blond hair, great tan, and what a crank on that boy!

So they introduce him, make a big deal about it being his first night there. His name, obviously a stage name, is Cylex. This guy gets up on the stage and dances. No I really mean DANCES. Not the usual strut-around-on-the-stage-and-flap-your tool-at-the-crowd thing that everybody else there does. The third song, the slow one in the set, he’s making love to every guy in the crowd. Worked me up in a lather. God he was good on stage.

So the set ends, there’s a polite round of applause, he grabs his clothes and heads for the changing room. They all have to put something back on, otherwise you might wind up with an extra "swizzle-stick" in your drink. Anyway, he came from out back, got his CDs from the DJ. (Again, I was between the DJ booth and the stage, see how I am?) Then he heads for the front of the bar. "Damn," I’m thinking, "There goes my chance." But get this, the crowd IGNORES him! There’s another pumped and buff musclehead hunk on stage flapping his dick at the crowd.

So he wanders toward the back of the bar again, and stops, facing the stage, TEN FEET AWAY! By this time, I’m tweakin’. Then it hits me "The Line." I ease off my stool, come up behind him, and in the sexiest voice I could muster, delivered "The Line" into his ear. The kid all but melted into my arms. Private dances are half-price on Mondays and Tuesdays at Remington’s, but I still spent a lot. Lemme just say, when I went back on Tuesday, after a few private dances, he returned with me to my hotel.

Meanwhile, back a Muther’s: I figure, what the hell. I eased past Him, circled back, and delivered "The Line" in His ear. Oh, what is "The Line?" Its "With all these hot guys in here tonight, how come you’re the only man I’m looking at?" He smiles and laughs. Does the little shy-guy thing. Man I’m a sucker for the little shy-guy thing.

His name is Johnny. He’s got a great laugh, natural, not forced or fake. My height, a little more meat on his bones, gorgeous dancing dark eyes, a smile that lights up the room, great voice, and shoulder length dark brown hair with auburn highlights. Swoon.

Turns out, all this time, he’s been too shy to hit on me! Guys, the lesson here is this, "Just do it!" Alright?

Got back to the apartment shortly after two. He just left. He’ll be back. I made sure of that! I’m gonna hit the sack while I can still smell him on my skin. Didn’t get any sleep overnight. And no, yer not gettin’ the details!

Saturday 17 January, 1998 7:20pm

Huh. He’s 29. Turns 30 in August. I know this because when I was picking up, I found his driver’s license on the floor. His phone is unlisted. If he’s not out tonight I’ll pop it in the mail. Yeah, I know, I should have gotten his phone number, but he has mine, and I know just where to find him. But he’ll call. I made sure of that.

All right, just a couple of details. He’s a cuddler. That’s good, cause so am I. My head rising and falling on his chest. His head in my lap. And damn he gives great hugs. Nice and hard, so you have to wiggle a bit so your ribs intermesh. Right up to, but not past the point where you’d begin to have trouble breathing. With most guys, it’s either little wimpy hugs like you’re their maiden great-aunt, or they crush you like you’re in a trash compactor. This boy has it down perfectly. I love someone who hugs like a man.

Man, and we fit well too. I’m all arms and legs. 34" inseam, 34" sleeve. So I need a guy who’s just a little bit bigger than me so everything fits. And fit we do. The rest? Well I think he could be everything I’ve missed in the many years since David, (a long story from long ago.) It all came back to me last night. I’m getting horny. Time to change the subject.

So what’s the scoop on the "Join the Search for Aaron" challenge? I’ve heard back from all the contestants. All declined. I’ve replied to each individually, then I sent the following note to the group:

Subject: Thanks for Playing

Did you honestly expect I thought you’d betray a friend for ten bucks? I had fun doing it, but I do hope I got my point across.

I don’t know Aaron, we’ve never talked or e-mailed. But what I got out of his last writings was this. He finally realized that what makes us happy comes from inside, not outside.

I don’t think he’ll ever take up the journal again, and I don’t think it’s because Mike doesn’t care for the idea. The need for it has passed. If he does resume, we’ll see a completely different man. Those things that made him a "clickable celebrity" will be gone, his hit rates will drop. But, he’d be happy, and probably a much better writer.

So please, let the man rest. I’m sure all your hit rates have risen lately as people try to get some news, any news of Aaron. But is this a good thing? It’s difficult not to write about a friend, but maybe you should re-think that. I just wanted to give an example of how far the feeding frenzy can go.

After all, wouldn’t it be nice to know that people read your sites because of you, and not because they’re displaced Aaron fans?

I had a lot of fun. I expected to get flamed. I didn’t. I respect you for that. Thanks for playing.

That about sums it up.

So, what happened at the clinic on Thursday? Well first, because of the weather, there weren’t many people there. Usually there’s a bunch of us in the waiting room. Some talk, others look frightened, or ashamed. I can understand being frightened. No-one wants to die that way. But shame I have a harder time with.

There’s no shame in being sexually active. Personally, I think it’s wonderful. Yeah, I want a boyfriend. Maybe things will work out with Johnny. Maybe not. But in the time between boyfriends, you’re either a monk, or you’re active. As much as I don’t care for one-night-stands, I dislike being a monk even more. So, I get tested. Every three months.

It’s cute to see couples at the clinic. You know that when they both test negative, after an intense period of enjoying unprotected sex for the first time together, they’ll soon be out selecting curtains and china patterns. I’m glad to see straight couples there too. Means the word IS getting out.

So what’s the word on oral? Well AIDS-Rochester is taking the position that ANY unprotected sex is "risky." Basically the woman who gave me my private pre-test interview said, "No one likes the taste of latex. But if you want to reduce your risk, you gotta go with it." Shit. I knew that. But I was hoping’

It was interesting however -- my reaction to talking about gay sex with a woman. I was uncomfortable at first as we walked down the hallway to the counseling room. Then I thought, "Well it’s nothing she hasn’t heard before!" It didn’t other me after that. But I did blush when I had to fess up that I’d paid for it with two strippers and two rentboys in a month.

Anyway, the rest of the visit was uneventful. The nurse who takes the blood sample quit smoking two weeks ago. Good for her! And I’ll tell you, I’ve had a lot of blood work done, besides the quarterly HIV tests. That gal is a real pro.

I’ve got rolling veins, they just don’t stay put when the needle goes in. Everywhere else, I come out bruised because they have to poke and prod around. Ouch! But, she gets it first time, every time, and I’ve never had a bruise. I remarked on it at my last test in October. She said, "Honey, I’ve been doing this since before most of those [phlebotomists at the commercial medical testing centers] were born. If I didn’t have it right by now…"

The results will be back in two weeks. I have no reason to expect anything but negative. I’ll let you know anyway.

Got the FrontPage 98 disk from Bradley Twink yesterday. Spent most of the evening checking it out. I think I’m gonna buy it. I don’t want to learn HTML. I want to write, my stories and my journal. I don’t want to hack code any more. I did that for a living in the 80s. Tired of it.

So to start off, I probably use one of the "themes" that come with FrontPage. Then as I get more comfortable, I’ll change the look of the site to fit my tastes. I’ll keep writing in Word though. It’s a much better editor, and it’s easy to dump the text into FrontPage.

Researched domain names through InterNIC. The one I had hoped for was taken. A couple of fall-back names are available. I’ll have to do some thinking.

Willie, my fuck-buddy, just called. He needs some music for an animation he’s doing. I’ve got both songs he wants. On vinyl. In my parent’s basement. I’ve got easily 2,500 disks there. The hard part will be finding these two in all that stuff. Well, I have the time and I need to get over there this week anyway. I’ve gotta return some drop-cloths I borrowed when I painted the apartment. And I’m thinking of retrieving my "nostalgia box." There’s some stuff I’ve been thinking about for the site. I hope it’s there.

Sunday 18 January, 1998 8:40pm

Just a quick entry. Went to Muther’s last night, Johnny wasn’t there, some other friends were. Slept late today, went shopping this afternoon, laying in supplies. Got home, took a 3-hour nap, woke up a few minutes ago, decided to put the new 2GB drive in the PC, have some dinner, figured I’d update the Journal then.

But He called. Yeah, Johnny called. Told ya he would. He’s coming over around 10:00. So, you’ll have to wait until tomorrow...

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