Charlie

Is he really "masculate"?

Can I have some milk with that, please?

Everywhere I have lived, from Palm Springs to London (including New York), residents say snarky things about tourists, and then get upset when not enough of them show up.

Number of words in self-description: 12 Number of items in "I am into": 34 Number of languages spoken: none listed Number of profile visits in first 24 hrs: 514

Umm, I'm sorry, what were you saying?

OK, I can match that. On my first visit to London, I was taken back to a flat by a guy who picked me up in a gay pub. A year later I was back in London, and went to a dinner party at a friend's home, where I was introduced to another guest. Afterwards, I went home with him to his flat. As we walked in, I said, "Wait a minute--I've been here before! Did you ever have an American staying here with you named Lloyd ______?" He said, "Yes, he rented my guest room from me for a month last summer. But he never brought anyone here." Wanna bet?

That is the one. He wasn't as defined in those earlier photos.

My experience was being picked up one night in a bar in NYC by a guy who drove me back to his home in NJ. As we got closer, I realized that we were going to the same town I grew up in. I didn't say anything to him, but as we were undressing in his bedroom, I suddenly stopped and said, "Why do you have a wedding photo of Clara and Frank on your dresser?" Amazed, he said, "How do you know my sister?!" It turned out that not only had I gone to high school with Clara and Frank, but the guy's grandmother had been the old lady in the house on the next street behind the one I grew up in, whose backyard adjoined ours. Small world.

Ad is gone.

I learned my lesson early from my parents' experience during the Great Depression. He was a credit investigator, she was an accountant for a major insurance company. Both were jobs that couldn't be replaced by technology in those days.

It's worth pointing out that my experience with Mario occurred 40 years ago, before the existence of cellphones, the Internet, and a site like ours. I had first become aware of "Mario" as a coverboy on a gay magazine, with a big spread inside that portrayed him as a fun, playful, affectionate youth called "Michael Delfino," with nude photos. I recognized him immediately as the same person when he advertised as "Master Mario." In person, the vibe was very different, basically aggressive macho. During our appointment, he also revealed that he had "smoked some weed," but I suspect he could have been on something stronger. Nevertheless, another escort I knew admitted to me several years later that he had been infatuated with Mario/Michael, before he went completely off the rails and attempted to murder a client by chopping off the man's arms. I'm not always sentimental about the days of those "vintage men."

A few more to add: .......had sex with a hitch-hiker. ......gone home from a gay bar with someone and discovered he was the older brother of one of my high school classmates.

Your office space doubles as a trashcan?

He was gorgeous, but one of the scariest hires I ever had. I felt like I was dealing with someone who to be handled extremely carefully, and when we were done (as far I as I was concerned), he physically prevented me from going; I had to talk him into letting me get dressed and leave after I promised to return later, which of course I didn't do. I knew he had a younger brother, whom he had persuaded to work with him for awhile (they sometimes advertised as available as a pair in Connecticut). A few years later, I hired a young guy who turned out to be the brother! He was straight, but Mario had turned him on to escorting as a way to make easy money, and he only did it when he needed the money. He turned out to be much more level-headed than Mario, and actually more satisfying sexually. When I asked why he was working alone, he admitted that Mario was in prison. I later learned from another escort that Mario was actually in an institution for those who were convicted of violent crimes but who had been judged to be mentally ill.

Does he look at his phone all the time while having sex?

Yes to #1

I don't believe that security cameras were common then: it was more than a half century ago. And, BTW, it may have been a sarcophagus that you have seen, because it was a Philadelphia museum.

3. Add: Fucked someone on top of a sarcophagus in a museum.

'49 Buick?

Nice new Mercury coupe.

Looks like Narcissus kissing himself.

"Lankypeters" joined the site in 2004, but he hasn't posted anything since 2018. We had both been posting for a couple of years before some details in one of my posts made him realize that we knew one another: we had worked together in New York as colleagues in the late 1960s! He PMed me, and we got together for lunch when I went back to NYC for a visit in 2007. We hadn't seen one another since an encounter in London thirty-three years earlier, so we didn't recognize one another when we showed up at the restaurant. Like me, he has long been retired, and we caught up on all the changes in our lives. After that, we sometimes conversed on the site through the private messages, but we no longer had much in common, and most of our old shared acquaintances are now deceased. He was never a frequent poster, but the fact that he hasn't appeared here at all for more than four years made me wonder if he is still alive, though I haven't been able to find any info to the contrary. If anyone else here knows him or knows what became of him (he was a regular escort client in NYC), please contact me, or contact him and ask him to give a shout out here.

On my mother's side, my grandparents were a brother and sister who married a brother and sister. It meant that my mother and three of her cousins all shared exactly the same grandparents, and they all lived together in the same household for a while. Because they were all part of the same gene pool, my mother and her female cousins even looked alike, which meant that neighbors and teachers often assumed they were all sisters. (And, no, this was not in Appalachia--it was in suburban New Jersey.)

None of my great-grandparents were alive when I was born, but one of my great-grandmothers had a younger sister who was only slightly older than my grandmother, and I knew her when I was a child (I just called her Aunt Nettie), so there is probably an old photo somewhere of me, my father, my grandmother and her aunt, 4 generations together. I also have a photo of my spouse's grandmother holding my spouse's infant niece, her first great-grandchild. My mother's sister had her first and only child at 17, her daughter had her first son at 20, and he had his first child at 22, so my aunt was only 59 when she saw her first great-grandchild, and since she lived to be 85, she saw several great-grandchildren grow up. My mother also had a cousin who did not marry young, but her daughter did, and since the cousin lived to 97, she saw her great-grandchildren. The key is obviously early marriages and long lives.

I have always had wastebaskets in the bedrooms and bathrooms, and next to our office desks. I don't have them in the living or dining room. I have three covered containers in the kitchen: trash, recyclables, compost. Everything eventually gets emptied into the three trashcans outside: "trash," "recyclables," "green waste" (kitchen compost and landscaping, such as leaves, clippings from bushes and trees).