The Bears Return to the Forest

Good lord.  What a week.  Bear Week 2011 in Provincetown.  Summer in Cape Cod.  From drinking as much water as I could to minimize the effects of the strong summer sun to using a whole can of sunscreen, it was quite the week.  Well, and then there are the alternative drinks -- the Poolboy, the Pineapple Paradise, the Watermelon Vodka Soda, the beer, and the shots of Cranberry Vodka.  I'm exhausted and more than happy to be home....listening to the rains of mid July in Portland fall on the rooftop this morning.  No, honestly, I'm glad to be here.  I had a delightful week with my friends.  My good buddy Don has always made sure I'm well taken care of, welcomed, and pointed in the right direction.  He is just that kind of guy.  I owe him my first born.  A few of us took in the Pam Ann show which was geared totally to the Bear audience....amazing night.  It was her first foray into Bear Week...and judging from the turnout and response, I'll bet that she'll be back.  Oh, and she brought her Trolley right out into the aisle like any good Air Hostess would do and gave my buddy George and Me each a cold weiner...or a hot dog if you prefer.  There were early mornings and late nights at 1am with pizza.  There was plenty of loud dance music and crowds so jammed together at Tea Dance every afternoon that it made it impossible to even move which proved to not be my most favorite parts of the week.  There were scantily clothed muscle bears, Santa bears, otters, cubs, dolphins, gummy bears (don't ask), honey bears, polar bears, and panda bears.  Oh My. 

We took in the Long Point lighthouse way out at the very tip of Cape Cod, ventured into the new basement digs of a leather store -- and scampered out of there like scared puppies....You Want Me to Do What???  There was one night of lighting, thunder, and torrents of rain....and there was one day of high humidity and heat that made this skinny white dolphin migrate toward shade and ice cubs (no, wait, cubes....) in cold drinks.  And there was this unpleasant part of the week which seems to rear it's head whenever you jam several thousand horny guys into small spaces.  Grindr and Scruff were at record levels according to my sources.  And as flirtatious as I am as the next guy, feelings get all wound up  easily.....and you see people doing things that you hadn't quite prepared for -- things that left me uncomfortable and unsure about.  Sometimes at the end of a long day of staring at handsome men, it's nice to chill and relax and have a change of pace and divert the conversation from the sexual hype and technology that has become our world.  It's hard to do in groups like this one. 

My flights were perfect -- but of course knowing the crews always helps.  My ride on Amtrak in the business class car was delightful and too short.  And I had the chance to meet people from around the world that I would never have been able to.  I checked out a baby seal that had beached itself one day for a rest and I was able to wear a fancy loaned D&G swimsuit from my friend Matthew.  We stopped in the many tourist shops, looked at cool sunglasses, oh and I did buy a brand new wallet -- one that is less thick as my former one so that it doesn't look quite so poofy against my skinny pale aging ass. 

But I needed to get home.  To be with my center point, the balance in my life, and the peace that knows who loves you more than anyone else in the world.  I'm here.  I'm queer -- as was clearly exhibited this week.  And I'm happy.  Too all of my favorite Bears and to my housemates at the Center Street Compound I love you all........Grrrrrrrrr.........

Boys to Men

My Hawaii vacation provided me with ample opportunity to delve into the world of scantily clad men on Waikiki, in shops along the way, and on the paths leading to and from the beach. I was even more brazen than the beach and took a couple of shots at our ship's lifeboat drill (the officer on deck was just plain old sexy). So, the more I shot, the more I wanted. I was ADDICTED. It got to be a game of cat and mouse....trying to catch guys when they, or their girlfriends, weren't looking. It was quite a fun time. And I plan to continue it. So, I'm introducing a brand new section to my photography collection called Boys to Men. I hope you enjoy and check back often for more pics. I am going to have to get more creative with winter setting in and everyone wearing heavy clothes. If you have some shots that you'd like to add to this collection, be sure and email them to me.

Sex with the Saints in the Sheets

I spent twelve years of my life, off and on, traveling with the Christian musical group The Continental Singers. (That's an entirely different story which I'll share with you after a nice bottle, or six, of Pinot Gris or Merlot....and is well deserving of a full-length novel.) Each tour was 1-3 months long and consisted of 20-40 members. We traveled all of the 50 states and most countries around the world doing concerts for Jesus every single night. The tours were run quite strictly. We were expected to adhere to numerous rules and regulations including no guy-girl relationships (like that was going to happen with me). But it also included no relations of a homosexual nature. So, let's see here, you're going to ask 20 testosterone-laden guys from different churches around the world to be on the same tour, all of them having been told "no no" when they've ever wanted to fool around or even masturbate, all of them with strong actor/musician/artistic inclinations, and then ask them to spend the night in bed with one another for three months in a row and not expect anything to happen? How do you spell denial? And it did. And I did. The rules were that you would be sent home immediately if anything happened. Horror! I can't immediately recall all of the times there was foolin' around going on but it happened to me more than once. Many more times than once. There was my friend G who was the cutest little tenor on the tour. Artsy and flamboyant. We went nearly the whole tour being friends and giggling like little school girls together. Do you think anybody knew? It was about two weeks before the end of the tour when, in some old couple's home in Cottage Grove, Oregon, I discovered that he had a curved wee-wee. I was in the basement bedroom somewhere in the Quad Cities area of Iowa with K on another tour. He was a beautiful African-American guy who went on to be in Miss Saigon on Broadway. He dressed beautifully and smelled so good. The black guy and the white guy went crazy on each other in that basement bordello that night. And the next....and the next. Another time, I was with T somewhere in the Midwest when we starting getting all handsy in the middle of the night. I think we just masturbated. For some reason, I remember the shame and guilt after that particular Midwest madness. In a Quality Inn in New Jersey on a steamy hot July night, I remember being in one bed with some dude while two other guys slept in the other (queen?) bed. We started doing the nasty....god, it was so hot in that room....and we were so scared that the other two guys would wake up or see us. Maybe they did. Another lustful time, I was in Haarlem, The Netherlands, with my assistant director M when all erotic-sexual-hell broke loose late one night in the upper floor where we slept....with the unassuming Dutch hosts sleeping soundly on another floor down beneath us. He had been joking with me for weeks about getting a foot massage from me. And I couldn't keep my eyes off of those little skimpy European-style briefs that we US boys would never wear. So, that night he went to take a shower and I went to bed. He came up later, climbed into bed, and we started joking about the foot rub thing. So, I started, and he started. I had just finished with one of his huge, beautiful British feet and was just starting on the other when he grabbed me in a moment of Christian-bad-boy-gone-even-naughtier, wrestled me down, and got what we both had been wanting all of these weeks. M and me went on and on...sneaking into each other's rooms during the night in an old farmhouse in the quiet countryside of Denmark.....in his parent's home (actually in their private shower!) in Birmingham, England. Another time was in the hull of a Polish ferry crossing the Baltic Sea at night from Ystad, Sweden, to what was then East Germany. The tiniest and most cramped little room you've ever seen.....and that damned Irishman "J" took advantage of me. (I almost sound like a poor little victim, don't I??). Shall I go on? Suffice it to say, that we did everything we were not supposed to. Over and over. Again and again. Some of these guys went on to get married (like me!). Some I have seen since then, some not. Some were too ashamed to face me or anyone else after that. Others went right on like nothing had ever happened. Sometimes the tears of guilt and shame poured onto the alter during a come-to-Jesus meeting later in the tour. And some are probably even very happily sleeping with boys to this very day. Just like me.

Morning Mood Enhancer

7:55 this morning, bleary eyed, I stumbled slowly, carefully, down the stairs from our bedroom. In sweats. Made the bed already. It's kind of cold out for Portland....low 30s overnight. A little ice and snow yesterday with horrible winds. S always makes sure my coffee is ready for me. He's so good that way. I've stayed in bed so long today that he's already in the shower. I hear the water running. Good, I'll get my coffee and sneak in the bathroom and maybe even slip into the shower too. Hum. Knock the heat up to 68, fill my coffee cup, and take a look outside to see if it looks slick. The deck is shiny with ice. Damn. The shower water has turned off. He's in his robe, shaving cream on his pretty face. He always shaves after the shower at the sink. I'm an "in the shower" kind of guy as far as shaving goes. He tells me he's in a bad mood which is very unusual for him. Didn't sleep well. I hate to hear that first thing in the morning. We've got a totally busy weekend ahead of us.....dinner with friends tonight before the Portland Gay Men's Chorus holiday concert....two open houses tomorrow before dinner with more friends at The Rheinlander (guess which entre I'm having?). So, no time for a bad mood. I catch him in the office now, computer in his lap, in one of our favorite chairs...beautiful buttery leather. He's in his terry cloth bathrobe from a few Christmases back. Warm and toasty on this cold morning except that it's kind of hanging open just a little. Probably a draft in there. He is such a beautiful man....fuzzy chest, stomach and legs. Just perfect. So, maybe I'll try and help improve that bad mood a little, I'm thinking, even though I haven't finished my first cup of java yet. Of course he wouldn't mind just a little extra mood enhancer, would he? But it wasn't long before he's looking around, checking through the windows to see if any neighbors are watching (yeah, right, the super-cool lesbians next door are probably saddled up in their breakfast nook having their breakfast smoothies, reading the paper, and tuning in to me on the office floor with him the chair). I am so sure! But, "snap," the robe is yanked closed....."I'm not that kind of boy," he chirps. But at least he's got a smile on his face now. Maybe his mood has changed for the better, even just a little, I hope. Sure enough, it's been a good day. Happier than happy. Big smile on his face. I'll bet the Chorus will sound better than ever tonight.

Flirting in the Outback

My friend G and I were at The Outback having dinner tonight. A younger girl and guy come in, sit down at the next booth, and start talking loud enough for us to hear them. I'm facing G, and the two suspects are in the booth behind G.

Lewis to My Friend G: So, what are you going to have?
G: I think I'll have a small Outback special, jacket potato, and salad with tangy tomato dressing.
Lewis: I'm going to have a salad, potato, and side of broccoli.
G: That's not enough food. That's why you're so slim.
Lewis: It's enough. Plus, I don't really eat meat.

Cute Boy to Girl: I dropped off David's daughter earlier. I wonder who David is? Lover? Daddy? They continue this bantering for a few minutes.

G: God, his voice is nelly. Talking about the young guy behind him that he hasn't seen yet.
Lewis: I can't tell if he's gay or not. I'm trying to lean around G's head to take a closer look.
G: I'll bet he plucks his eyebrows. Now, how in the hell would he know that?

The young cutie gets up, leaves for a minute, and comes back. His swagger on the way back to his seat gives it all away. Not being stereotypical, am I? He is good looking (maybe it's just the tight green t-shirt talking) and now he's flashing me a big smile.

Lewis: Oh yea, the eyebrows are plucked. Pruned and landscaped are more like it. Looks like maybe a lawnmower has been his best friend.
G: Plucks his eyebrows? I don't like that. So, what's he doing now? Suddenly, in true Emeril fashion, things have been kicked up a notch.
Lewis: Well, he's leaning around the girl and trying to look at me now. I think the continued smiles are giving it away.
G: Oh my gosh!

He makes a phone call and starts talking to whoever is on the other end (maybe it's David or his daughter) about me. And now the girl he's with is turned around trying to look around G's head at me. They continue to giggle and are kind of giddy.

Lewis to G: At least he's polite. Every time that the (equally handsome) waiter approaches their table, he stops his phone call and says "thank you."
G: Good homosexual, good homosexual, G teases. He acts like he's petting a little "air" dog.

Lewis: Okay, it's time to go.....things are getting out of hand. I haven't been flirted with in a long time.

The cutie pie leans out toward the aisle when we're leaving and flashes me a big grin showing off the braces that his daddy probably paid cash for.

"Bye," he says.

"Bye," I am polite as any gentlemen would be.

Besides, I've got to get home and tell my hubby that a youngster has been hitting on me. I wonder if he even has his driver's license yet? Maybe he's getting it for Christmas.