reason no. 143 why you never let 'em come to you

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[here's the thing: i dash shit off when i'm drunk and then tuck it away in places that i just know i'll remember later--you know, so i can come back, polish it up and publish it--except i almost never do.

until a year or so later when i find myself at precisely that same stage of drunkenness and i all-of-a-sudden remember not only what i wrote but where the fuck i actually stuck it.

this would be one of those posts--and, because i know myself and my tendency to drunk-rewrite, i'm warning you now that this may become a two-parter.]


i live in a remote, secluded corner of the city i'd bet most current angelenos have never even heard of--great when it comes to getting away from it all, but inconvenient as hell when you wanna get laid.

in other words, if i want sex i'm generally forced to travel out. and for the most part--and despite the considerable inconvenience involved--this is almost always fine with me.

why, you ask? well, before i launch into my story, let's talk about that a minute.

i'll never forget back when, during the heidi fleiss hooker-scandal of the late 90's, some vapid interviewer or other cornered one of heidi's more prominent clients--namely, one charlie sheen--and asked him why, when his famous movie-star ass could obviously have any goddam girl he wanted for free--why in god's name he would resort to paying prostitutes for sex.

and even though i could never stand the arrogant prick, his answer to this question endeared him to me for all time: instead of being even the slightest bit embarrassed, he brazenly cocked his head in that way of his, looked that bitch straight in the eye and said, "you don't understand--i don't pay girls for sex; i pay 'em to go away afterwards."

and i remember sitting there shaking my head in admiration, thinking, "charley ol' boy, you've summed it up exactly."

because, see, even though charlie and i couldn't have been more different (he being a famous movie star and all, and me just being a rapidly-drying-up old faggot), we each understood a universal truth: when it comes to hooking up, it's not lining up the trick that matters--hell, anybody can do that--it's all about the getaway.

and when it comes to the getaway, let's face it--when push comes to shove, you can always walk away from them. getting them to walk away from you? often another story altogether.

case in point: it's four o'clock on a monday afternoon, i'm trolling the internet, feeling a little compulsive, there've been no meaningful nibbles all day, the traffic window has now closed (i.e., if you haven't hooked up by four in l.a., you might as well hang it up until at least eight)--an intolerable situation in my present state of horniness, lemme tell ya.

so when all of a sudden the phone rings and it turns out to be somebody named jay telling me how much he enjoyed last time and offering to come over again, i'm more receptive than i might've been otherwise.

"what's your name?"

"i already told you--jay."

"no, no--what's your name?"

he finally gets it and gives me his manhunt screenname. i cradle the phone on my shoulder, tab over to manhunt and quickly look him up: vaguely familiar--cute guy, nice tight body but for some reason i'm getting a negative vibe.

i quickly search my mental database for what happened last time--what was it about this guy that's telling me to say 'no?'

can't come up with anything concrete, and since--as we've already established--it's late, i tell him, "what the fuck--you know the way; come on."

what can it hurt, right?

little did i know i was about to get yet one more lesson in trusting one's instincts.

[part 2 to come--and if you insist on a preview, all i can tell you now is that it involves cum, clowns and gasoline. that's enough to suck you in, right?]

sober update: i now remember why this post never saw the light of day. there's nothing new here; it's just one more tired example of banal, by-the-numbers gay-hookup sex, and god knows if i haven't made my point about that subject by now, i never will. so, sorry--there will be no part 2 to this little tale (and trust me, you're not missing much).