Charlie

Years ago I gave a collection of magazines, plus some documents related to early gay organizations in which I was active, to a gay archive in Philadelphia, but I don't remember what it was called or whether it still exists. If there is a gay social organization in your area, they may have a library that would take things like the old Gordon Merrick books (of which they probably already have lots of copies). I don't know what to do with old porn tapes or discs.

If he is really only interested in getting his cock sucked, what is the difference between the $400 rate and the $800 rate?

I have rarely enjoyed getting fucked, because I don't find it physically stimulating or comfortable. However, if I find the person really attractive and that's what he really wants to do, and I feel reasonably clean down there, I have sometimes done it and occasionally enjoyed it. If he really wants to get fucked, I am happy to do it, but I don't find it necessary to have anal relations--as top or bottom--in order to enjoy a sexual experience. I'm sure there are many people on this site for whom "top" and "bottom" don't necessarily refer to fucking or getting fucked, but to who is the person making decisions about what will happen, or who is orchestrating the action and who is playing the instruments.

I hope you brought your woollies to Paradise. It's been a colder than normal winter here.

When I was a child, my mother usually made the wedding dresses herself for most of her family members. She made her own dress, and then re-tailored it for other occasions.

Hardly anyone ever sees me in real nice sweatpants, so decent is good enough.

I imagine that William is quite the fashion plate, so he probably doesn't buy his clothes at used clothing stores. (However, if you are reading this, William, I think the store was at 6th and Bainbridge.)

If it doesn't last, she can always use it again the next time.

When I was walking the dog this morning, a neighbor pointed out that there was a hole in the ass of the sweatpants I was wearing (the temperature was only 40F. in Palm Springs this morning). I bought the sweatpants from a cardboard box in front of a used clothing store in South Philly about 20 years ago, so I suppose it is time to replace them. What do durable sweatpants cost nowadays?

OMG!

Good question.

'54 Oldsmobile 88, if anyone cares.

Isn't that the gay beach in Atlantic City?

Every time I check out at a supermarket, the credit card machine asks if I would like to add a contribution to a food bank. I always say no, because I already give directly to two local food banks. The machine at Petco or Pet Smart always asks if I want to donate to an animal shelter, and I say no, because I already contribute to a couple of local shelters. I prefer to make my own choice of who or what I donate to. I tip fairly generously for services where it is traditional to tip (waiter, barber, etc.), but I don't see why I should be expected to make up for the failure of the employer to pay the person working the cash register.

I don't remember what I spent for any item of clothing, but it was never outrageous. The most expensive things I buy now are tennis shoes, which cost more than I used to pay for a good suit (about $140). I hardly ever throw any clothing away unless it is damaged--I still wear a couple of the sweaters I wore in college sixty years ago, including a nice cashmere sweater that I inherited from my father.

I also always knew the position as "cross-legged," not "Indian style," and I am old enough to remember when it was considered OK to call homosexuals "fairies."

Today is the anniversary of the death of Guy Fawkes (the original Guy Fawkes, not ours). It is also the 70th anniversary of my grandmother's death.

Are they really two guys? A few of the photos in both ads are the same, or obviously of the same guy. Although they list different ages and heights, they look an awful lot like one another.

Photo #4 is taken in Palm Springs; I'm surprised he doesn't list it as a place he travels to.

I think I once mentioned on this site, in some other context, that on my first trip to Paris as a young man, a sophisticated older friend took me to dinner at a fashionable Vietnamese restaurant, where I was served something I didn't recognize. When I inquired what it was, I was was told that it was perfumed eel soup. I almost excused myself to barf.

I wasn't about to start watching the men's final live at 12:30am PST; I expected to watch the replay today, so I didn't watch or listen to any news when I woke up this morning. When I started playing tennis at 7:45 this morning, I told the other three doubles players that if they knew what happened in the match, please don't tell me. Wouldn't you know that at 8am I heard someone on the next court blab out that Djokovic won in straight sets. At least I was able to watch the Eagles beat the 49ers in live play just now.

What rank is the hot friend?

There are two '57 Caddies in the photo. The first one in line is a Biarritz, but the one he is leaning against is a Brougham.

One doesn't usually find a waiter in Geneva who speaks French but not German or Italian, the other two official languages in Switzerland. I suspect he doesn't actually "speak" Russian, although he may have picked up a few words. But it's obvious that he loves to talk.🙄

Ah! Memories of my 1961 Beetle. (I did have some erotic moments in it, but they weren't very comfortable.)