From: email@example.com (Buck Foss)
Subject: Re: The latest weirdo trend/rumor
Date: Thu, 13 Jul 1995 22:44:07 GMT
Actually while I was in Boston, I would see this guy from the suburbs
about once a month. The guy was built like an Adonnis, and claimed to be
We would go home and set up mirrors and pose and fles for each other, and
oil each other down (this was his idea of having fun, not mine). Then at
a certain point he would want me to really punch him hard ("real men can
take real physical abuse." He said it - I swear it.) In the ritual he
would want me to hit him three or four times really hard. I never drew
blood, but I did leave some really bad bruises. Then we would get into
this wrestling match (being all pumped and lathered in Baby oil, this
turned out to be fun), which led to great sex (but of course he was only
a straight boy), and then the best part, the hours of laying in bed
together, cuddling, where he was open and honest about his sexuality.
I participated the first time because I was sort of there, and he was
really hot and, hey, I'll try most anything once. The second time we met
(at first neither of us would exchange phone numbers) I explained to him
that I wasn't really into to inflicting pain. We talked for a few
minutes and he explained to me that it was only through this ritualistic
abuse that he could get sexually excited at all. He couldn't accept the
fact that he loved the sex and he loved the cuddling and talking
afterwards. It had to start with something "manly" and preferably
painful, because it allowed him to punish himself for his internal shame.
I was hoping that by continuing to gain his trust I could help move him
from such self-destructive behaviors. After about 4 months, we exchanged
phone numbers, and often had long conversations. He couldn't understand
how I could be so relatively open in my life - "doesn't it make you feel
like a fag?" (Well, I *am* a fag, dammit) And I couldn't understand how
he could lead his life so on edge.
After some time he realized that he was having a "gay" relationship and
was pretty upset that he liked it. (You should have seen the first
morning after we both had fallen asleep and cuddled all night long - I
thought he was going to die.) I left for law school right after that.
When I was back going to George's funeral last August, I stopped by a
favorite bear bar of mine, the "119", and there he was, standing in the
corner like a intrigued but frightened animal. He lit up like a light
bulb to see me, and we talked and drank the night away. He was very
slowly coming to grips that he was gay, and that was ok. He even began
liking to be in gay bars because of the attention he would get, but he
was also nervous about it. Still, two years later he had made some progress.
Anyway, the Canadians who do this don't seem so weird to me, just a bit
sad and misguided. But, like I always say, "whatever blows up my skirt."
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