Charlie

I was never interested in feet until AIDS came along. Then I started looking for things that were definitely safe sex, and feet came to the top of the list. It is never super exciting for me, but I have come to appreciate it as a possible turn-on.

Beautiful 1948 Cadillac.

Well damn! And I've been there, too.

At the moment, hotels are not allowed to accommodate anyone but essential workers. However, that will almost certainly have changed by April.

I cleaned out one of my closets.

Central Park?

Does the Clubhouse still exist? I haven't flown Virgin Atlantic Upper Class in years.

I remember these two encounters mostly because they were exceptional, not at all typical of my hiring experiences.

Can one still buy shoe trees?! I tried to find some a few years ago and salesmen gave me blank stares.

That's a city in the background?

As a would-be demographer--it was my original career goal--I find this map fascinating. I can still figure out quickly the reasons for the move in most states, such as the shift in North Dakota from the farms in the east toward the oil fields in the western part of the state.

Unlike many AIDS symptoms, KS was something that everyone could see. I still vividly remember lying on my towel on Jones Beach and seeing an old acquaintance walking along the water, and even at a distance recognizing the KS lesions on his legs. He had been a stunningly beautiful blond college kid when I first knew him, and now he was a skinny, pale man in his 30s, with disfiguring marks that foretold his early death, even before the disease had its official name. It's a scene that will always be with me.

I remember that when AIDS appeared in the early 1980s, the first obvious symptom seemed to be KS, and many people immediately jumped to the idea that poppers were the cause. It didn't take long to discredit that theory.

No, he passed away recently.

Years ago, when most escorts advertised in print media with no photos, I responded to a new ad in a local paper and went to the escort's apartment. As soon as I arrived, I realized that there was a problem: he had described himself as handsome and well built, and he was obviously neither. However, I also quickly realized that he was mentally handicapped, and he undoubtedly believed his self-description, although I'm sure that the only person who ever told him he was good-looking was his mother. He was friendly and enthusiastic, and definitely new at escorting, and so pathetic that I felt sorry for him. I was sure that most people who responded to his ad were likely to tell him he was unattractive and even berate him as a liar, and turn around and leave. To do the same felt to me like kicking a well-meaning puppy. So, although my libido had quickly declined to near zero, I went through with the appointment, which he seemed to enjoy immensely. His ad didn't appear for very long, so I may have been the only client with whom he had a successful experience. At the other end of the scale many years later was an experienced escort with good reviews, who was just visiting town. I made an appointment to meet him at his hotel room, and the meeting started out professional and hot. After about 20 minutes, he suddenly stopped and said, "I can't do this," and started crying. He confessed that he had come to town for his mother's funeral, and thought he could be distracted from his grief for a little while by doing something professional, but he said it wasn't working. Instead, for the next hour he sobbed uncontrollably in my arms while telling me all about his mother's life. I finally put him to bed and left him. The next morning he phoned me to apologize and to offer another meeting off the clock, but I told him not to worry about it; I didn't say it would be too hard for me to erase the image of the sexy jock weeping like a little child who had lost his mommy. I always hired escorts strictly for emotionally uninvolved sex with someone who revved my engine, but sometimes I had to turn that off and remember that escorts need kindness, too.

My shoe polish kit hasn't been used in years, because nothing on my shoe shelves can be shined. I'm not sure I even own a pair made of leather any longer.

bigvalleyboy.

Seeing the posts in this thread by BVB sent a chill down my spine.?

For those who don't itemize, $300 in charity donations is hardly an incentive to give. I get asked for more than that almost every day by the numerous worthy organizations that solicit donations from me, many of whom I reluctantly have to turn down.

No, the 1920s. The cars and the bathing suit styles are much later than turn of the century.

No, the cars are from the 50s.

The ones my mother used to sing in when I was a child (she was an alto soloist).

The Lakers would be a good one, although they might be confused with the L.A. basketball team. (The L.A. team, BTW, were originally the Minneapolis Lakers, and kept the name even though there is no lake in L.A.)

Aside from the fact that they are transparent, they are basically like the "posing straps" that models used to wear in the "physique" magazines of the 1950s and 60s, when nudity wasn't allowed. They never had any other purpose then either.

To tell the truth, I wouldn't have realized these were all photos of the same guy, so it may be the versatility of his image that makes him saleable.