Drag Queens, Latex Toys & Other Erotic Hazards

Coming out of the closet invariably brings a barrage of questions from loved ones and strangers alike; having been out more than half of my life, I am still amazed (and amused) at the ridiculous questions that are posed to me on a regular basis. I lost count of the number of times that I have been asked what's it's like to kiss another man; if the ponderer is of the male persuasion I suggest that they pucker up (there's only been one taker), if they are in possession of other equipment, I usually just tell them it's a bit like kissing their father, except for the tongue that is invariably slipped, the nip on the bottom lip and the occasional brush of something more personal. Likewise, I've lost count of the number of times I've been asked if I simply don't find women attractive; there are a lot of women that I find attractive: Angelina Jolie, Lady Gaga & the Chinese lady that makes me spicy tofu at one of the local asian food joints to name three. Finding a female attractive and wanting to be with a female are two different ball games though. There's anatomy that's missing, I'd wonder if she has a twin brother and myriad other reasons prevent me from even venturing down that road, besides, to thine own self be true. Someone asked me a few weeks ago if I'd ever been attracted to a drag queen. Seriously? Attracted as in I want to spend half an hour with cold cream stripping back make-up like refinishing a dresser or attracted like I want to rush and smother those Marliynesque come-fuck-me red lips with my own? Nope, I've never found a drag queen attractive. Amusing, yes. Brave, ditto. Sexy, not so much. A friend of mine asked me if I had any toys. I told him I had a remote control car at my parents house somewhere and the odd puzzle or two. "Latex toys I mean," he said. "I prefer polycarb," I told him, "It's top-shelf dishwasher safe, and you can use it with oil based lubricants. Don't worry though, I don't wash toys and dishes at the same time. Usually anyways." He wasn't sure if I was serious or not, but he avoids helping with the dishes whenever he's around. Another friend of mine asked me if she and her husband could borrow a video from me. "Video?," I asked. "You know, porn," she replied, "My husband is sort of curious." I told her I'd send her one via email. "Email? Don't you have like a dvd or cd or something?" I told her that I could burn her one; I asked if her hubby had any specific requests. "We just want to see two men being intimate." If my friend's husband wants to see two men being intimate, he really needs to rent Philadelphia or Were the World Mine. I told her porn is not intimate; porn is fantasy personified, graphic, in your face (in his face really)--but not intimate. I'm not sure she ever really thought about it. Another friend of mine asked me what the strangest place was I'd ever had sex in, I'll admit I've had sex in some crazy places, the garden, a tool shed, behind the bar in a restaurant (no, it wasn't open, no it's not the one that I worked for) to name a few; my stock answer to this question though usually involves picking a room in the asker's home--let them then choose whether or not to follow up. A woman that I know socially (we're on a first name basis, though I know very little about her, nor she, I) asked me the other day if I had any gay friends. The last three words of her question, any gay friends, were spoken so softly I had to ask her to repeat herself, the third time I took the hint and leaned in so I could hear what she'd said. I asked why we were whispering about this. "We're in public. I'm trying to be discreet." I'm sure the look on my face was priceless, but I asked why she was curious. "There's this friend of mine..." Any gay man will cringe upon hearing those words, "...he and his partner are having trouble meeting people. They moved here last year." Phew! I suggested that he take a look at Facebook, talk to the coordinator of our local GLBT group or get off his butt and go out to the local gay watering hole. I was going to suggest that he also try looking at craigslist, but I'm not sure exactly what sort of friends he and his partner were looking for. One of my co-workers asked me where she and her boyfriend could get a sling; I suggested eBay, but she wanted to know if there was anywhere nearby. I told her that I'd ask a friend of mine; I mentioned that she would need to make sure she had a secure place to hang it. "I thought we'd hang it from the ceiling in the guest room." "Are there exposed beams in your guest bedroom?," I asked. "No, but there are hooks screwed into the studs." For those of you that have never hung a sling, I suggest you make a trip to your local Home Depot. Make sure to ask lots of questions: What gauge chain would support x amount of weight. How much weight are these eye bolts rated for? What's available in stainless steel? Etc. The salesperson will probably either ask if you are building a winch to lower engine blocks or moving hay. Wink at them and tell them it's much more personal. Hooks screwed into the studs? Hopefully my friend wears a helmet (falling drywall) and activity occurs over one of those blue mats they have at the gym (123lbs falling 2.5 feet to Pergo!)

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