Charlie

The photo may be unaltered, but the cock is not.

I am generally pretty blase about gallery photos, but this thread made me reach for my smelling salts.

Rather than mention your personal details, I would ask the escort if he has any limitations on his client's physical description, as sync suggested. It will at least make him think about his own instinctive reactions, and perhaps raise his consciousness, particularly if he is relatively young or new to escorting.

The first anniversary of Stonewall in 1970 was the occasion for the first organized gay pride march, but it was officially called the Christopher Street Liberation Day march, and it started as a ragtag gathering in Washington Square. The organizers--amazingly--managed to get a police permit for the march, but there wasn't enough time to publicize the route or the destination, so my phone was constantly ringing that morning as we kept asking one another, "Where are they going?" "Where are they now?" It turned out that the route that the police had marked out was up Sixth Ave (usually empty on a Sunday) to Central Park. We joined them at 29th and Sixth, and the number of people kept growing the farther north we got. By the time the parade emptied into Central Park, there was a huge mob of all kinds of people, and the mood was ebullient. The next day the New York Times described it as a "homosexual protest rally," but it felt more like a celebration, a great big party to which everyone was invited, and I was surprised by the number of non-gays who joined in.

The last time I participated in a Gay Pride event was forty years ago in Philadelphia. I carried the banner at the head of the parade in Center City. I have attended some other events over the years, but mostly as a spectator, and nothing in the past few years. I, too, have grown tired of being in crowds, for any kind of event.

I first encountered that on a Shinkansen train in Japan, but I have rarely seen it anywhere else.

I had my "mid-life crisis" at 30. Does that mean 50 is the new 30?

This thread makes me feel like I am back in the early 80s.

I first encountered these as a young man in a Turkish bathhouse in Paris, and it took me a minute to understand what I was supposed to do. Later I found something similar in rural India. I haven't seen one of them for many years.

Moody Blues.

I had my first hard-on when I was 5. I discovered that if I rubbed myself against a mattress, I would eventually experience a very pleasant relaxation of tension in my tummy, but it was not something I did regularly. After the beginning of puberty, however, I found myself doing it more and more often, and then one day when I was about 13, I suddenly experienced an ejaculation. Then the hormones began to rage, and I was constantly seeking opportunities to indulge several times every day in my mid-teens. The act was always accompanied by fantasies about boys and men whom I found attractive, so I understand quickly that I was gay. The masturbation tailed off in frequency once I started having sex with other males when I was 17, but I still did it at least once a day until I was in my 40s.

My grandfather was a private detective, and my father worked for him when he was a young man. People have always wanted to know more about other people than those people want them to know. Nowadays it is just easier to find the info yourself.

In casual conversation once with an escort after the act, I happened to mention something that another escort, a friend of his, had told me about him. While it was nothing embarrassing or intimate, the atmosphere in our chat quickly turned frosty. I would avoid speaking about anything personal that he hasn't already told you or at least implied.

I have been to many national parks in this country, but have actually stayed within them only three times, in Zion in winter when the lodge was nearly empty and the price was a bargain, at the Grand Canyon as part of a deal including the train ride to the park from Williams, AZ, and at one of the cabins at Furnace Creek in Death Valley. The quality of the lodging never bothered me--I wasn't looking for luxury--but I did get horrible spider bites in the bed at Furnace Creek. Of course, I had the same spider experience at Cradle Mountain NP in Tasmania, so it is not just the US parks that have less than comfortable accommodations. (Accommodations at the Plitvice Lakes NP in Croatia were also pretty bad.) I have mixed feelings about cellphone service. I have often been in parts of Joshua Tree NP where there is no service, and I wonder what I would do if the car broke down in an isolated area in the summer heat, since there are almost no facilities of any kind in the park. However, it would be hard to hide or camouflage a cell tower there, and it would certainly disturb the views more than it would in a place with high trees, like Sequoia NP.

My Mercedes also has an "eco" button, but as far as I can tell, all it does is shut down the engine to save gas whenever I am stopped at a light (which happens a lot here in SoCal). I traded my last Mercedes for a Prius during the gas panic in 2008, and bought another in 2010. They got fabulous gas mileage and were very reliable, but boring as hell to drive. Then I got a Mazda3, which was lots of fun to drive and also got remarkable mileage, but it was too small for old men to get in and out easily, so now it is back to the M-B.

If you like horse racing, you might enjoy going to Kranji Park. My spouse was one of the architects.

Are we sure that beer is what #14 is drinking?

Getting the scramble consistency just right is not easy, and I often miss--a little too wet or a little too dry. Sometimes I don't try, and just make an omelet, with either cheese or ham.

I have even your father beat. I was shocked the first time I pulled up to the pump at our local station and discovered that the price had risen from 25 cents to 27 cents.

I just started reading Gore Vidal's memoir Palimpsest, and I am fascinated by it. I hadn't read anything by him in years--Myra Breckinridge when it was published may have been the last novel--and I had forgot what a viciously witty writer he was.

I recently visited the newly renovated Rijksmuzeum in Amsterdam and found it greatly improved as a museum-going experience. I also cast another vote for seeing the new Barnes, where it is much easier to actually see the art than it was in the old building in Bala Cynwyd. (I'll admit it: I am one of those who often finds museum buildings more interesting than the art within them.)

I am a frequent museum goer, but I have the same problem. I can sprint around a tennis court, or hike for an hour, but the slow walking in a museum makes my back and legs ache.

Still the longest running thread in site history, because the subject is as eternal as escort prices. Whatever became of the lovely Talvin? By the way, in Palm Springs we are still paying about $2.80 for unleaded regular.

I am not normally a reader of science fiction, but A Wizard of Earthsea is one of my favorite books.