I’d met John David before moving to Laguna. He used to come into Tony’s. He was cute. And he knew it. But that was part of his charm, not acting like he knew it. He was dating a boy named Brett at the time. Brett was a classical pianist. He was one of the pianists chosen to play a baby grand piano for the opening ceremonies of the Olympic Games in Los Angeles in 1984. 84 pianists, dressed in blue coat and tails, playing Gershwin’s Rhapsody in Blue.
But I digress.
John David and I might have had sex before Jon Ross and I broke up. I’m pretty sure we did. Neither one of us was particularly monogamous, no matter how much we loved someone. He would sit in the bar at Tony’s until I got off. We’d sit in his car and makeout, if not go down on or jerk each other off. We became friends. Even more so when I moved to Laguna Beach. I don’t know how many times I’d seen him or we’d slept together, but it really seemed to click one night at the restaurant/bar The Little Shrimp.
I met Roger C. at the Shrimp. Roger was a piano bar player/singer and was there two or three nights a week. Somehow, he found out I was a singer. He might have auditioned me before he let me sing or I sang a duet with him, or something. One of the songs I did well was Wind Beneath My Wings—a version of the Bette Midler song. I was singing that one night and spotted John David sitting at a table. With the recent breakup, the move, the new life, he really had been the wind beneath my wings. I sang the song to him. It became our song. Or at least my song to him. JD later related to me how the friends he was with were all staring at him while I was singing. He was like, what? They said, have you not noticed that he’s looking right at you? To this day, when I sing or hear that song I think of John David.
We always said we were single together. Meaning, whenever we weren’t seeing someone else, we were seeing each other. Everyone used to think we were boyfriends. We were nearly inseparable. We both slept around a good bit. We each had boyfriends now and then. Invariably, one or the other would meet someone and soon discover—while in bed with them—that that person had also slept with the other.
I don’t recall how I met David B. Probably one of the bars. Dave was a very successful, young executive who was one of the oldest kids I’d ever met. He had this great, mid-century modern house, with a pool, south of Laguna. We became good friends. Good enough he would let me borrow his 280 ZX. If he only knew.
Dave loved having people over for dinner parties and pool parties—both always with the most attractive boys, of course. I remember one pool party, the pool full of hot guys. I was 30something, maybe. I took a step back and thought, wow, my dad at 30 was raising five kids.
I met cute little Mark at one of Dave’s parties. While I always considered myself a top, I did bottom, but rarely. Mark was one of those rarelys. Everyone was out by or in the pool. I was at the bar getting another drink. I’d already had a few. Mark came in. We chatted. We ended up in one of the bedrooms. It became pretty clear he preferred to be the top. He was cute. Nice dick. I acquiesced. Until he tried to penetrate me. My ass was on fire before he was even fully in. I pushed him off me. “What the fuck?!” Turned out he was using a new lube. Spicey hot lube. We ended up jerking each other off. I was awhile before my ass cooled off.
There was a gorgeous boy at one of those parties I’d lusted after before. Somehow, he agreed to go home with me. John David was with me. We must have gotten there hitching a ride with someone else. Once Gorgeous Boy agreed to go with me, I asked Dave if I could borrow his car. I’d had a lot to drink. John David tried to get me to let him drive, but I wanted to be in charge. We drove him home. He tried to get me, us, to spend the night at his apartment. I wasn’t having it.
How we made it back to my place that night without getting stopped or having an accident, I have no idea. But we did. It wasn’t long before we were naked, in my bed, going at it. I opened my eyes. There was light behind the closed blinds. Gorgeous Boy was asleep next to me. What the fuck?! I didn’t remember anything that happened. Once GB was awake, he told me he got up to go pee. When he came back, I was passed out. I never got a second chance. Let that be a lesson.
I was in one of the bars one night. I’m seeing the Shrimp in my backward-looking mind, maybe The Boom Boom Room. There was a birthday celebration going on for Travis, one of the hottest guys in town. I’d seen him out and about but never met him. At one point, someone asked what he wanted for his birthday. He looked straight at me and said, “him.”
Feather. Knock.
I don’t remember all that we did. Cake and drinks at the bar. Then off we went. He drove us up into the hills to a point looking out over the town and the ocean. We made out. He offered me some drug. I don’t recall what now. I declined.
Break…
I don’t know where it comes from, though I suspect it had something to do with church. I’ve always had it in the back of my head that if I drank, or did drugs, or did anything really, I would die…for my sin. I grew up on tales of that very thing happening to sinners. Well, that didn’t stop me from drinking, but I really think it did stop me from doing any hard drugs.
Back to Travis…
He did his drugs. We hung out where we were. Talked. Made out. Maybe some fondling. I don’t remember having sex, though. I don’t know if I was a birthday present disappointment or not.
I don’t recall how I met Peter. Not sure he even lived in Laguna. He was a tall good looking guy, taller than me. He came to mind when I found a photo of him in my Scrapbook of Life. What I do remember about Peter is that he had the biggest dick I’d ever seen. It had to be 10 if not 12 inches. What do you do with a dick that big?! Even though he never got fully hard, it was a challenge to go down on him. There was no way that thang was getting anywhere near my ass.
Joey D. was a piano playing singer working a couple of the bars. Cutest little thing. Short, dark curly hair, blue eyes, decent body, pornstach. I found a photo of him trying to look all sexy—coifed hair, stach, shirt open down to his navel, gold chain. Actually, it is kind of sexy. Another photo, of the two of us, looks like it’s from one of those photo booths. I think I might have had a moustache too—It’s hard to tell, I was still so blond back then. We look cute. Happy.
I fell hard, even though he had the littlest dick I’d ever seen on a man. He wrote a song for me, a really pretty song. I remembered it for a long time, but can no longer recall any of the lyric. We talked about buying a motorhome and traveling around the country playing piano bars. I would manage him. Then he dumped me. Don’t remember why. It certainly wasn’t because my dick was too small.
I was crushed. I cried my eyes out for a couple of days. Shortly after the dumpage, I was looking at cards in a gift shop. I saw one that caught my eye. On the front was a mouse in a cowboy outfit, hanging from a gallows. It said, It’s a good thing you’re cute…on the inside: because you’re hung like a mouse. I laughed out loud right there in the store. I bought that card. Whenever I was feeling low over Joey, I would pull it out and have a good laugh.
David S. I didn’t meet David in Laguna, but that’s where our friendship solidified—after sleeping with him at the Meridien, which is where we met. He was there with his friend Chris D.—who years later I ended up singing with in the Seattle Men’s Chorus. Sad to say, I remember very little about him from those days. I have a photo of us in my apartment. Bits and pieces from letters I found.
David is of Albanian descent. While working as director for the Albanian Choral Society, he was invited to participate in Albania’s Youth Conference in 1987. The first non-Albanian to receive such an invitation. He was 22 years old. I know this not because I remember it, but because he sent me the press clipping from the Medford Daily Mercury. He was great at sending me updates on the many adventures his life’s path was on.
David was an aspiring conductor. He was conducting something in Boston, where he was from—Medford, actually—with a singer who’s name I don’t recall. He invited me to be there for the concert. I met his sister. And, I became the chaperone for the singer. She and I hit it off and had a good time over the two nights, one for rehearsal and one for the concert. David and I are still friends and maintain contact. Last time I saw him was at my wedding in New Orleans.
George. I don’t think I ever knew George’s last name. We met on Main Beach one day. He was 18 or 19, maybe even 20. Maybe even younger. Quiet, cute kid. I could tell there was a hot body lurking underneath his clothes. He was traveling around on his own. From where, I don’t recall. I invited him back to my place. He demurred and said he wanted to wander around town some more. I gave him my address and how to find my apartment and told him he was welcome to stop by.
He did.
In fact, George ended up staying with me for several days. I was in the shower getting ready for work that first afternoon. He came in and joined me, having stripped out of his clothes in the bedroom, apparently. I was right about the body. Shower sex is so fun. He was sweet, sexy, passionate, always horny. We had sex a couple times a day. I came home after work one day and he was gone. Simply gone. I’ve never forgotten that cute, sweet, sexy phantom…George.
I’d seen Scott Z. and Jack H. around town. I met each of them around the same time. They were both cute, Jewish boys. They were those similarly enough looking people that unless you see them together, you’re not sure which one of them it is that you’re seeing. I’m not sure which one I went out with first, but I think it was Scott. I think that because we had sex. And sex with someone sucked me in. I had sex with Jack too, but I think that was a one off.
We were crammed together in someone’s car, Jack sitting on my lap. He was fully aware of the hardon in my shorts. When he was asked where he wanted to be dropped off, he said, “his place,” meaning mine. So, that’s how Jack and I ended up having sex.
Scott and I met, somehow somewhere. The gym, perhaps. We worked out at the same gym. The only gym in town. We started dating. Actually dating. There were other boys, of course, one-night stands mostly. There was always some new guy moving to town and tourists to keep the community from becoming too incestuous. There are others that linger on the fringes of my memories, but faintly enough I only recall them vaguely. I’ve only written about the ones who left more of a mark on my brain.
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