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The first tearoom I went to was called The Orchid Room. It was on the sixth floor of Stewart's department store in downtown Louisville. Stewarts was the largest and grandest of high-end retail in the city. The Orchid Room served lunch, which they, of course, called "luncheon" on the menu. The clientele consisted primarily of older blue-haired socialites out for a day of shopping and being seen. Then there was also this skinny young man who walked to Stewart's from J. C. Penny, where he worked measuring men's inseams. None of the blue-hairs ever made a move on me. Apparently, they weren't into inseams. Or skinny blond boys. Imagine my surprise years later when I heard of the goings-on in a different kind of T-room. The blue-hairs would have clutched a ton of pearls. And I could have measured more than inseams. Cue up ... those were the days, my friends, we thought they'd never end ...

Technical questions from a digital Neanderthal (no offense to them intended). These would appear to be gif's but show and save as WEPB files (snapshots of a gif?). Why? Can they be saved as gif's (so as to maintain the stimulating undulations of this angelic young man?)

The first time I was planning a drive from Virginia to a family Thanksgiving in central Ohio, the obvious choice was to use the Pennsylvania Turnpike. There were three reasons, however, that made me not want to. First, it was a toll road, and second -in spite of the toll income- it was badly maintained with almost as many potholes as the moon had craters. The third reason were the reports I'd heard that when you exit the turnpike and stop to pay your toll, the machine will do a time & distance check and if your time indicated you exceeded the speed limit, you got a ticket on the spot, no questions asked. And no human witness to your alleged malfeasance. Turns out I didn't have to use the turnpike after all as I saw a sign heralding "new interstate west" and used I-68 through Maryland, then and ever since. So, screw you, Big Brother! Other examples of technology-based intrusions are red light cameras in-town and speed cameras on the interstates. Quite some several years ago, I heard of a proposal in Britain that chips be installed in mile-markers on the sides of the roads that would communicate with a mandated receiver attached to your vehicle and which had your license and registration data. If your speed between two markers showed you having exceeded the speed limit, the local constabulary was notified electronically, and you would -eventually- receive a ticket. Repugnant as some of this is to my civil liberties sensibilities, the pragmatist in me now accepts it as inevitable and the wannabe lawyer within sees it as likely legal under some application of a plain sight argument in a public space. So, screw me, Big Brother.

If I knelt before them, would I be six feet under?

I had to use a hammer and chisel on a granite background.

A hirsute gardener?

From the initial post and first meeting description, it sounds more like Eleanor of Aquitaine (Katherine Hepburn in the The Lion in Winter) describing her first time with a young Henry II - We shattered the commandments on the spot. (Eleanor was still married to King Louis of France at the time.)

Always good to have new minds and viewpoints. I hope you find what you're looking for here and that you enjoy the hunt. I was a long-time lurker before I actually joined and have always enjoyed this site. Did you lurk around here for a while or just dove in hoping for the best? (Just curious.)

The one I've always wished I could be ... fluffer!

I have no illusions about a young, handsome, muscular man wanting to be with me, so long as he's "willing for the shilling." We both know why the other is there.

Given that price, I'd think a psychiatrist would be more appropriate.

Cutting my toenails now that I'm older and fatter.

Why can't I find Stouffers Tuna Noodle Casserole at the Giant store I've shopped at for over 30 Years? WTF?

Do the towels moan when it's twisted? I know I would!

Although I consider myself 1000% Gay, I do confess to having occasionally fantasized about having two women at the same time; one to cook, one to clean. My thanks to Jimmy Carr for this delightful insight.