Charlie

Ditto.

I was surprised to learn that my nephew's 36 year old wife, an educated, sophisticated mother of two young children, somehow scored a ticket, and is flying to L.A. on her own to see Swift's concert at SoFi Stadium. And her husband and friends seem to think that is perfectly normal.

Our family went to see the movie at a drive-in when it first came out.

It was in the mid 1970s, at Bang's. Rudy wanted someone to dance with him, but everyone was too shy or nervous to do so. I thought, "What the hell? Everyone will be watching him, not me." So I joined him on the floor for about ten minutes. I figured that whenever anyone questioned my evaluation of a dance performance in the future, I could always roll my eyes and say, "Well, I danced with Nureyev."

I danced with him once at a disco in London.

"Mascular"?

As soon as I saw this in the comics this morning, I felt sure it would show up here.

In case some readers here are confused, it's winter in Canberra.

In fact, the experts say that is correct.

I was looking for something to take with me to read on a trip, and on our bookshelves I found a copy of The Paris Diary of Ned Rorem, the American composer who lived and worked in Europe in the early 1950s, and whose art songs are still performed in classical concerts. It was published in 1966 by George Braziller, a respectable publisher, and my spouse had obviously bought it at that time under the influence of his then-partner, a musician who had studied in Europe, despite the fact that Rorem frequently lapses into French, which my spouse doesn't understand. It is a book that I have often seen mentioned in memoirs over the years, so I decided to give it a try. What surprised me most about the book was how frank Rorem was about his gay sexual experiences and love affairs not only among the haute monde of musical society, but also his casual sex experiences with the lowlifes he picked up on the streets and in Arab bathhouses. He also makes veiled references to what sounds like a proclivity for rough S&M. At the time he was in his late 20s and early 30s, and from the many photos it is clear that he was a very beautiful young man, which was part of the reason he had easy access to such a rarefied world of famous artists, intellectuals, and wealthy French aristocrats of both sexes. The sexual material seemed to be seamlessly integrated into his commentary about music, politics, and his social life in the 1950s. I'm sure that in person I would have found him intellectually stimulating but obnoxious in those years, and he wouldn't have found me worthy of mention in his diary. Since he often comments on his fears about death, particularly about dying young, I decided to google him, and was amazed to learn that he died only last year at the age of 99!

At least one can drive 80mph most of the way on I-10 across the state, but we still spent the better part of two days to get from Austin through El Paso because of stretches of "road work." Aaron made no comment about my AMEX Gold Card. My first partner was born and raised in west Texas, and decamped for the east coast as soon as he discovered he liked opera and men more than hillbilly music and women. Aaron seems more determined to stick it out on the plains.

The nametag he/she/they was wearing said AARON.

This wouldn't fit in the long "Travel sex stories" thread, because there was no sex involved; instead, it's a "travel gender" story. A few days ago I spent a night in Fort Stockton, a small town (pop. 8000) spread out on the windswept plains of west Texas. When I called the hotel, a familiar national chain, to make the reservation, the desk clerk ("Aaron") sounded like a pleasant young man with a possibly gay vibe. When I got to Fort Stockton, I managed to get lost trying to find the hotel (I had the wrong exit number from the Interstate), so I phoned the desk and got "Aaron" again. I stayed on the phone while he guided me through twists and turns to the hotel. When I arrived and approached the desk, I was confused: "Aaron" appeared to me, based on hair styling and clothing choices, to be a woman! Was "Aaron" transitioning, and if so, in which direction? From his/her/their friendly interactions with other staff, I also had the impression that "Aaron" was new on the job, and the co-workers were very friendly and helpful toward him/her/them. When I saw "Aaron" the next day--his long black hair pulled back in a bun and wearing what looked like ballet slippers--I was still confused: was "he" simply a very effeminate young man with a deep voice? I wasn't about to ask. I would not have been at all surprised to have encountered such an employee in NYC or L.A., but in the ultra-conservative rural heartland, where the majority of the hotel's clientele seemed to be pretty rough-looking truckers and ranchers, I didn't expect to find such an exotic character as the public face of a business. I found it very heart-warming.

My father had one of those black wool bathing suits. I wish I had saved it.

Edit.

In the mid-1960s, even the early gay rights protesters wore suits and dresses. I remember Frank Kameny, one of the most prolific organizers, insisting that he wouldn't take part if everyone weren't "properly" dressed.

I think you meant "integration" rather than "immigration" (don't you hate autocorrect?).

I know that he became involved in the Presidential election the following year, but who invited him to the funeral? Senator Goldwater?

Eric Ryan was an early pornstar in the 1970s and 80s. I saw him one night in 1987 in a NY bar, shirtless and sweaty; he was with another pornstar whom I recognized, though I no longer remember the name. Then a few days later I saw his escorting ad in the Advocate, so I called and made an appointment. He turned out to be one of the most sexually satisfying hires I ever made, as well as being a very nice guy; he even suggested I come back the next morning to have breakfast, but I couldn't. I wasn't spending much time in NYC in those days (it was during the AIDS epidemic), so I never saw him again. He died of AIDS in 1993.

What on earth was Ronald Reagan doing at the Kennedy funeral? At that time he was president of the Screen Actors Guild and was not active yet in politics.

I worked for ETS as an independent test reader (TOEFL, GMAT, etc.) and consultant for twenty years. When ETS was revising the SAT, they asked me to help brainstorm new questions.

There's a reason it was named Death Valley.

Just a note to anyone thinking about a visit to Palm Springs right now: We are under an excessive heat warning (over 120 F.) and a hazardous air quality advisory (smoke from 3 wildfires burning north and west of us) for the next several days. Residents and visitors are advised to stay indoors as much as possible.

Lucky daddy!

The Merry-Go-Round was more of a street cruising area than a hustling area. I lived very nearby, and my route walking home from the bars at night took me through the Merry-Go-Round, but I knew several straight people who lived on the 2000 blocks of Delancey and Spruce Streets, so I would never have tried to hustle there. For my daytime hustling experiment, I used City Hall courtyard, where both hustlers and johns could always claim that they were waiting for someone with whom they had business at City Hall.