Charlie

A friend of mine used to work for Doris Day and still goes to visit her a couple of times per year. She says Doris is in great shape

We celebrate the day we met, because it was also the day that we decided to live together for the rest of our lives. He never can remember our wedding anniversary, which was almost 45 years later.

Now, this one belongs in the tag team fantasy thread.

I hope that is a typo:confused:

This kind of thing happens, and it is hard for either side to know whether it is legitimate if it is a first time meeting. Years ago when visiting NYC, I made an afternoon appointment with a well known escort, but woke up that morning with a terrible sore throat that I suspected might develop into a fullblown headcold. I called him at 9am to let him know why I had to cancel, and said I would re-schedule at some time in the future. He became angry, and blocked all further calls from me, not only that day but for weeks afterwards. I decided that maybe I had inadvertently dodged an unsatisfactory hire, and gave up trying to re-schedule. (This site didn't exist in those days, so I couldn't discuss it here.)

Kobi and Tomer, an Israeli couple whom I hired in NYC in 1993. One dark with a huge dick, the other blond with a fabulous body, both handsome and very masculine. It was the only time in my life that I was simultaneously plugged in both ends, like something out of a porn film. I never saw their ad again.

I never met Golda Meir or Elizabeth Taylor, but I did have dinner with Martin Luther King, though not one on one.

I was 17, he said he was 18, but I now think he was a few years older. He picked me up in a public men's room and took me back to his room in an SRO on the lower East Side. I had never done anything and didn't know what to do, or even what was possible to do. He taught me how to give and get a blow job, and how to fuck and get fucked. He was also the first man I ever french-kissed. The whole experience lasted about three hours, and I was exhilarated. I never saw him again.

I have never been asked to be a best man. The best man at my own wedding was a fellow poster on this site.

It probably wouldn't even have occurred to me that it might have something to do with our escort appointment. I would have assumed a terrorist incident or other sort of violent crime at the hotel, and would definitely have backed away.

I have written an absolutely honest autobiography. I also have 46 years of daily journals, in which I have recorded everything of note to me, including such details as how much I paid Escort X on Sept. 4, 1982, and what acts we engaged in; my opinion of an operatic performance at Covent Garden in March 1974; where I ate dinner on July 5, 1997; what lie I told my high school class reunion committee in 2005 to avoid going to their get-together; the death from AIDS of someone I fucked at an orgy in Baltimore in 1966, etc., etc., ad nauseam. The journals alone fill a very long file cabinet drawer. An academic library to which I have given a substantial financial bequest has agreed to accept and archive all these documents and keep them closed for ten years after my death, after which they will be available to anyone. There are no Jeff Stryker dildos, handcuffs or lacy underpants to worry about. But then there are the thousands of my posts on this site.....

"We'll keep the light on for you."

That is the classic "special offer for new subscribers". I have been getting it for 15 years.

You have to fuck pretty fast to cum on the Northern Line between Leicester Square and Waterloo! I could walk more quickly between those two stops.

When I was a kid, we used to get the Star Ledger delivered on Sundays, but all I ever read was the comics.

I do get full e-access as well.

Since I have had a few private inquiries about this opera singer escort, I should point out that this experience took place back in the pre-Internet age when escorts/"models" advertised in gay print publications, with no photos nor the kind of info that would lead them to being publicly exposed in the way they would if they tried to advertise today. The singer, a very attractive young man in his late 20s, had just debuted at the Met in a secondary role, and still needed to escort to make ends meet. His escort ads soon disappeared, and he had a reasonably successful career as a singer for several years (I saw him perform several times), but he eventually succumbed to AIDS.

Our local paper, The Desert Sun, is not a great paper, but it does focus on local stories, and does excellent investigative journalism, which has had some serious practical effects on local governments. It costs $67/mo for daily delivery. I would rather read it for my local news than watch the pap on local TV news stations.

When I said "I once hired," I was referring to a hire almost four decades ago. I think he is probably long retired from both of his careers. And, no, he didn't sing to me, though I thought of requesting something from Barbiere di Siviglia.

I once hired a baritone whom I had seen onstage at the Met. He was pretty kinky (he had a barber's chair in his bedroom).

The voicemail on my landline is set to pick up after six rings. Most robocallers hang up after five, so I don't have to put up with a lot of unwanted voicemails.

Leather is, of course, technically dead [cow].

My landline identifies the caller, and if it is not someone I know and want to talk to, I simply don't answer it.

Kelvin is not that unusual a name. William Thomson, a famous 19th century Scottish scientist, was ennobled by Queen Victoria as Baron Kelvin, for the Kelvin River which flowed near his home, after which he always used that name. A kelvin is the name of a standard thermodynamic unit that he described. In my youth, a popular brand of refrigerator was called a Kelvinator. I think I also remember an NFL player whose first name was Kelvin. Addendum: I just checked, and Kelvin Beachum plays for the NY Jets.

I knew that one!