Charlie

My last house back East was a three story town house plus a full basement; in California my houses have been only one story and no basement. I don't miss the stairs, but I do miss the basements as convenient places for storing things.

If he is straight, I don't think he really understands the term the way most of us do.

I had a copy of that issue when it was new!

Unfortunately, I have a previous commitment that afternoon,, but thanks for the invitation.

I have no idea why a hairy ass turns me on.

My parents would pretty much roll their eyes whenever they heard anyone say, "Asians are ......," "Blacks are.....," "Italians are....," etc. They made it clear to me that human beings are individuals and should be regarded as such, no matter their ethnicity or race. When it came to who I was attracted to sexually, the most important characteristic was whether or not they were male. There were plenty of males who did not attract my sexual interest, but it was never due to the color of their skin, the language they spoke, or their preferences in food or music. I was much more interested in the shape of their bodies, their hair patterns, their facial character, and their behavior. He didn't have to be tall, dark and handsome--he could just as well be short, light, and handsome. And, of course, he had to be interested in having sex with me.

I realize that you are trying to be reassuring, but in fact I retired more than two decades ago, so I don't think my obvious memory lapses are a minor transient issue for me. I also spent several years caring for a spouse who had Alzheimer's, so I am pretty familiar with the disease's effects.

I used to be known for my memory of people and names. I used to be a college professor, and my colleagues marveled that after the first day of class I could remember every new student by name. Now I meet neighbors I've known for years on the street, and I can't remember their names. I find my loss of memory of names--people, places, products, etc.--extremely unnerving. I'm wondering if it's time to consult my partner's Alzheimer's doctor--if I can remember his name🤔.

My favorite gym years ago was at the McBurney YMCA on 63rd Street, because many of the guys using it were also staying there, so one could segue right from the gym into the privacy of their bedroom.

The Steel gym has apparently changed since I was a member there a number of years ago. when I never saw any activity in the locker room.

It is worth remembering that many gay men were raised at a time or in a culture in which homosexual activity was not merely disapproved but actually against the law, so being themselves and accepting their orientation was extremely dangerous. It is not easy to be self-accepting when one's natural identity is dangerous to one's very survival in the surroundings in which one is confined.

When I was young in the 1950s, American men could be persecuted for even being perceived as homosexuals, which is why I never even heard the term "gay" until the first time I had sex with another male in 1960. In the early 1960s I knew a somewhat effeminate young man who had been arrested in a suburban area because the police thought he was cruising (he claimed he wasn't, but he was convicted anyway). Now I can be open about my sexual orientation in a public meeting, can watch openly gay men on TV, and can be legally married to another man. That's my idea of progress.

I know I told this story here before on a thread about "My first time......" I started my sex life when most gay men were in the closet and there wasn't a resource like this one to consult (the personal computer still hadn't been invented). I was picked up in a public men's room by a guy who cruised me and took me back to his place, where he introduced me to all the basic acts. As I was getting dressed afterwards, I said, "Wow! I didn't realize that these things were possible!" He looked at me in confusion and said, "But I asked you if you were gay, and you said 'Yes.'" I had to admit that I didn't even know what "gay" meant. The OP obviously knows what the term means and where to turn for advice about the subject, as I did not. There has been a lot of practical advice offered here about how to start having physical interaction with other men, and the writer has taken advantage of it. I'm wondering whether he now feels "gay" as a result, or simply "sexually experienced."

Although I possess numerous CDs, I have gotten into the habit of only turning on a radio station called "Classical California" when I want to listen to music, especially when I am driving. It's a "classical music" (e.g., Bach, Beethoven, Stravinsky, etc.) station, hence the name.

According to today's LA Times, the average price for a gallon of gas in CA is $5.66, but there are places in the state that advertise as much as $9.69/gallon.😮

It is true that before AIDS, there were all sorts of other "gay diseases" that were discussed regularly in the gay community. In fact, I served on the board of a gay organization called Philadelphia Community Health Alternatives in the 1980s, that was founded before AIDS was recognized, because so many gay men developed health problems that their primary care doctors were unaccustomed to deal with, or that the men were uncomfortable revealing to their regular medical providers. We actually started the AIDS Information Hotline that the city government eventually took over.

I got mine!

At the time that AIDS appeared in the public consciousness, I was already in my 40s and had been in a partnered relationship for 20 years. We were not exclusive, but we were also long past the slutty promiscuity of youth. I had also never been into being an anal bottom, which reduced one possible source of infection. My doctor was also a gay personal friend, so I was alerted early to what was going around in the medical area. I belonged to various gay organizations, which were a source of reliable information, and for a few years in the late 1980's I actually ran the AIDS Information Hotline for a major city. In spite of all that, I think that I was also probably just lucky. I had many friends who got AIDS at that time and most of them died from it, though a few hung on long enough to get effective treatment. One of them hung on until 1996 and died officially of something else, but his sister (a medical technologist) still says, "He died of AIDS."

This post hit home for me, because I live alone in a good-sized house, (living room, dining room, kitchen, den, office space, two bedrooms, two bathrooms, and a two car garage). I moved into it with my now-deceased spouse nine years ago. Why do I need so much space? Well, most family and old friends live far away, and if they come to visit, I enjoy providing a place for them to stay for free. But the real reason is because over a long life I have collected an enormous amount of stuff, and it is hard for me to throw away things. I have 99 shelves of books, 3 file cabinets, two office desks, 4 clothes closets, lots of storage facilities in the garage (I can squeeze only one car into it), not to mention all sorts of cabinets for kitchen storage. My spouse was an architect by profession and an artist as a sideline, and the walls are covered with his paintings. Do I need all this stuff? Of course not, but how do I decide what to get rid of? How do I know when I am going to need some of it? How do I get rid of things that have sentimental value only to me? My house cleaner often suggests that I sell things I don't actually need--like all those books. I live in a retirement community, and a neighbor is in charge of the library in our community lodge, so I suggested to him that he go through my book collection and take whatever he thought the library could use. He and his partner came over one afternoon, and left with five large boxes of books; it hardly made a noticeable dent in the collection on my shelves. Lately I have been spending an hour per day going through all the papers left by my spouse and throwing away anything that I don't think is necessary to keep (he had a harder time throwing things away than I did). But most of the things in my house that I would consider getting rid of are things that no one would buy or even have a use for. The only thing that is likely to get me to just throw things away would be if I am forced to move to a one bedroom or studio apartment like the one I lived in when I was a graduate student.

All this talk about John Tyler reminded me that my paternal grandfather, whom I knew well, had been a protege of Teddy Roosevelt, and in the 19th century Roosevelt got him nominated for a seat in the NY state legislature at the ripe old age of 29. I still have some of his campaign materials (he lost the election).

My parents were old in the sense that they were almost middle-aged when I was born, and I was their first (and only) child. I remember them taking me to an adoption agency when I was a child, because they thought I should have a sibling, but they felt they were too old to produce one themselves. Apparently they didn't convince the agency, because I remained an only child.

I shop at a local Von's supermarket, which also has a gas station attached to it, and you can use the points you get for shopping for food for a reduction in your gas price. On Sunday I saved 40 cents per gallon on the price of $4.69/gal. for regular gas.

"Do you need help getting your...umm....engine started?"

If it is one particular language it is probably related to some previous personal experience. If it is any language at all, that's a fetish.

I wonder which one is the top?