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Pandemic confession:
A few years ago I decided to write a book of essays and for each essay, I’d seek out a sexual experience I’d never had — like sleeping with a woman or relieving myself on someone’s chest — and write about it and, to ease into my research, I went to (1/14)
A few years ago I decided to write a book of essays and for each essay, I’d seek out a sexual experience I’d never had — like sleeping with a woman or relieving myself on someone’s chest — and write about it and, to ease into my research, I went to (1/14)
a “party” I heard about where 50 or 60 men got together every Tuesday night in an event space in Chelsea and jerked off — there was no penetration of any kind in any oraffice allowed, only touching and kissing — and when I arrived, I paid $20 and was given (2/14)
a hanger for my clothes (everyone had to be naked except you kept your shoes on, which, in case you’ve never seen 50 men just wearing their shoes, I promise you it’s not exactly the hottest look, but safety first, I guess?) and then I entered the room where (3/14)
the party took place, which looked a lot like an industrial basement and was compromised of several smaller rooms, including a lofted area, and there was porn playing on TVs on the walls and giant vats of lube and rolls of 1-ply paper towels strategically placed around (4/14)
the room and several sad-looking couches covered in sinisterly stiff and stained patches of fabric that you couldn’t have paid me to sit on and everyone was just kind of milling around or breaking off into little groups that would ebb and flow with new participants and (5/14)
some men would just start touching you and others would kind of sheepishly hover until they received a sign that they were welcome to touch you and I didn’t see anyone that I wanted to touch or that I wanted to touch me and, in general, I never want to (6/14)
hurt anyone’s feelings or disappoint anyone, so it was very hard for me to tell people “no thanks,” so I’d just keep moving from room to room and I didn’t think I would ever find someone I was remotely interested in but, for the purposes of my book, I didn’t think (7/14)
I could leave until I had “completed my mission,” if you catch my drift, and all of a sudden I looked towards the entrance and I saw a man who looked like the hottest and most stereotypical pirate you’d ever see anywhere — like he was wearing a pirate costume but the (8/14)
costume was his face and his body and he was naked and he was stunning — and we immediately locked eyes and he made his way over to me and it honestly was like something you’d see in a poorly written movie and you’d mutter, “oh please! That would never happen!” when (9/14)
it happened but it really happened and I spent the rest of my time at the party with him but I never said a single word to him — I don’t even know his name — and when we’d finished what we set out to do, we got dressed and went our separate ways and I spent the (10/14)
next few weeks thinking about what happened and even though I had a great time with the pirate, I realized I don’t want to jerk off with a room full of men still wearing their shoes but, still, there was definitely something magical about that party and how different (11/14)
everyone was and how permissive and shame-free it was and for some guys, it was just a fun way to spend a Tuesday night and for other guys it was maybe the only way they were able to get touched or enjoy a bit of human contact and I never wrote that essay or (12/14)
researched any of the other ones because, you know what? I don’t want to have sex with a woman or relieve myself on someone’s chest and that’s OK and it’s OK if you do and, ultimately, I think trying new things, even (especially?) when they’re (13/14)
scary or uncomfortable is important and often necessary to grow but knowing or getting to know your desires and your tastes and your limits and why you have them and how they can also serve (or service) you can sometimes be just as useful (14/14)
