Category Archives: Humour

Sex Tycoon: “Sex4Cast” Agony Aunt Column, Friday 2 May 2003 *See, But Don’t Dob*.

Article, Gay Interest, General Interest, Humour, , , , ,

In 2003, after making a witty, sarcastic comment on an article published in an online emagazine called “Sex Tycoon”, I was contacted by them, and asked to be “The Gay Man” commenting on a series of subscriber personal-problem-questions. The panel of “experts” consisted of a “Straight Dude”, “Straight Gal”, ‘The Gay Guy” and “The Lipstick Lesbian”, and each week, under the column title Sex4Cast, we were emailed a “problem” question with a link, which we would then write a reply, offering personal advice on solving the problem. The four panellists had no knowledge, or contact, with each other, so all advice was offered independently. As “The Gay Guy”, I never treated the questions seriously, offering – in my inimitable style – witty (I hoped), sarcastic advice, which, according to feedback from the site owners, was very popular with their subscribers. Sex Tycoon was operated by a group called FocusBlue Media LLC. Unfortunately, as was common in those days on the internet, after 14 columns the owners decided to close the site down, and that was the end of my Agony Aunt career. Sex Tycoon has disappeared into that great cyber-space graveyard, but I’ve kept copies of the columns, and publish them here for your amusement.

Sex Tycoon: “Sex4Cast” Agony Aunt Column, Friday 25 April 2003 *Date Rating*.

Article, Gay Interest, General Interest, Humour, , , , ,

In 2003, after making a witty, sarcastic comment on an article published in an online emagazine called “Sex Tycoon”, I was contacted by them, and asked to be “The Gay Man” commenting on a series of subscriber personal-problem-questions. The panel of “experts” consisted of a “Straight Dude”, “Straight Gal”, ‘The Gay Guy” and “The Lipstick Lesbian”, and each week, under the column title Sex4Cast, we were emailed a “problem” question with a link, which we would then write a reply, offering personal advice on solving the problem. The four panellists had no knowledge, or contact, with each other, so all advice was offered independently. As “The Gay Guy”, I never treated the questions seriously, offering – in my inimitable style – witty (I hoped), sarcastic advice, which, according to feedback from the site owners, was very popular with their subscribers. Sex Tycoon was operated by a group called FocusBlue Media LLC. Unfortunately, as was common in those days on the internet, after 14 columns the owners decided to close the site down, and that was the end of my Agony Aunt career. Sex Tycoon has disappeared into that great cyber-space graveyard, but I’ve kept copies of the columns, and publish them here for your amusement.


Sex Tycoon: “Sex4Cast” Agony Aunt Column, Friday 18 April 2003 *Sexy Elders*.

Article, Gay Interest, General Interest, Humour, , , , ,

In 2003, after making a witty, sarcastic comment on an article published in an online emagazine called “Sex Tycoon”, I was contacted by them, and asked to be “The Gay Man” commenting on a series of subscriber personal-problem-questions. The panel of “experts” consisted of a “Straight Dude”, “Straight Gal”, ‘The Gay Guy” and “The Lipstick Lesbian”, and each week, under the column title Sex4Cast, we were emailed a “problem” question with a link, which we would then write a reply, offering personal advice on solving the problem. The four panellists had no knowledge, or contact, with each other, so all advice was offered independently. As “The Gay Guy”, I never treated the questions seriously, offering – in my inimitable style – witty (I hoped), sarcastic advice, which, according to feedback from the site owners, was very popular with their subscribers. Sex Tycoon was operated by a group called FocusBlue Media LLC. Unfortunately, as was common in those days on the internet, after 14 columns the owners decided to close the site down, and that was the end of my Agony Aunt career. Sex Tycoon has disappeared into that great cyber-space graveyard, but I’ve kept copies of the columns, and publish them here for your amusement.

Sex Tycoon: “Sex4Cast” Agony Aunt Column, Friday 11 April 2003 *Voyeurism*

Article, Gay Interest, General Interest, Humour, , , ,

In 2003, after making a witty, sarcastic comment on an article published in an online emagazine called “Sex Tycoon”, I was contacted by them, and asked to be “The Gay Man” commenting on a series of subscriber personal-problem-questions. The panel of “experts” consisted of a “Straight Dude”, “Straight Gal”, ‘The Gay Guy” and “The Lipstick Lesbian”, and each week, under the column title Sex4Cast, we were emailed a “problem” question with a link, which we would then write a reply, offering personal advice on solving the problem. The four panellists had no knowledge, or contact, with each other, so all advice was offered independently. As “The Gay Guy”, I never treated the questions seriously, offering – in my inimitable style – witty (I hoped), sarcastic advice, which, according to feedback from the site owners, was very popular with their subscribers. Sex Tycoon was operated by a group called FocusBlue Media LLC. Unfortunately, as was common in those days on the internet, after 14 columns the owners decided to close the site down, and that was the end of my Agony Aunt career. Sex Tycoon has disappeared into that great cyber-space graveyard, but I’ve kept copies of the columns, and publish them here for your amusement.

Sex Tycoon: “Sex4Cast” Agony Aunt Column 2, Friday 4 April 2003 *Cheap Cologne*

Article, Gay Interest, General Interest, Humour, , , ,

In 2003, after making a witty, sarcastic comment on an article published in an online emagazine called “Sex Tycoon”, I was contacted by them, and asked to be “The Gay Man” commenting on a series of subscriber personal-problem-questions. The panel of “experts” consisted of a “Straight Dude”, “Straight Gal”, ‘The Gay Guy” and “The Lipstick Lesbian”, and each week, under the column title Sex4Cast, we were emailed a “problem” question with a link, which we would then write a reply, offering personal advice on solving the problem. The four panellists had no knowledge, or contact, with each other, so all advice was offered independently. As “The Gay Guy”, I never treated the questions seriously, offering – in my inimitable style – witty (I hoped), sarcastic advice, which, according to feedback from the site owners, was very popular with their subscribers. Sex Tycoon was operated by a group called FocusBlue Media LLC. Unfortunately, as was common in those days on the internet, after 14 columns the owners decided to close the site down, and that was the end of my Agony Aunt career. Sex Tycoon has disappeared into that great cyber-space graveyard, but I’ve kept copies of the columns, and publish them here for your amusement.

Sex Tycoon: “Sex4Cast” Agony Aunt Column, Friday 4 April 2003 *Halitosis Date Death*. 

Article, Gay Interest, General Interest, Humour, , , ,

In 2003, after making a witty, sarcastic comment on an article published in an online emagazine called “Sex Tycoon”, I was contacted by them, and asked to be “The Gay Man” commenting on a series of subscriber personal-problem-questions. The panel of “experts” consisted of a “Straight Dude”, “Straight Gal”, ‘The Gay Guy” and “The Lipstick Lesbian”, and each week, under the column title Sex4Cast, we were emailed a “problem” question with a link, which we would then write a reply, offering personal advice on solving the problem. The four panellists had no knowledge, or contact, with each other, so all advice was offered independently. As “The Gay Guy”, I never treated the questions seriously, offering – in my inimitable style – witty (I hoped), sarcastic advice, which, according to feedback from the site owners, was very popular with their subscribers. Sex Tycoon was operated by a group called FocusBlue Media LLC. Unfortunately, as was common in those days on the internet, after 14 columns the owners decided to close the site down, and that was the end of my Agony Aunt career. Sex Tycoon has disappeared into that great cyber-space graveyard, but I’ve kept copies of the columns, and publish them here for your amusement.

Sex Tycoon: “Sex4Cast” Agony Aunt Column, Friday March 21 2003 *Bottoms Up*.

Gay Interest, General Interest, Humour, , ,

In 2003, after making a witty, sarcastic comment on an article published in an online emagazine called “Sex Tycoon”, I was contacted by them, and asked to be “The Gay Man” commenting on a series of subscriber personal-problem-questions. The panel of “experts” consisted of a “Straight Dude”, “Straight Gal”, ‘The Gay Guy” and “The Lipstick Lesbian”, and each week, under the column title Sex4Cast, we were emailed a  “problem” question with a link, which we would then write a reply, offering personal advice on solving the problem. The four panellists had no knowledge, or contact, with each other, so all advice was offered independently.  As “The Gay Guy”, I never treated the questions seriously, offering – in my inimitable style – witty (I hoped), sarcastic advice, which, according to feedback from the site owners, was very popular with their subscribers. Sex Tycoon was operated by a group called FocusBlue Media LLC. Unfortunately, as was common in those days on the internet, after 14 columns the owners decided to close the site down, and that was the end of my Agony Aunt career. Sex Tycoon has disappeared into that great cyber-space graveyard, but I’ve kept copies of the columns, and publish them here for your amusement.


Keep It Up!

Article, Gay Interest, Health Information, HIV/AIDS, Humour, , , , , , ,

This article on HIV-related erectile dysfunction was originally published in the December2002/January 2003 edition of “Talkabout”. Though possibly not as common a problem now as then, it is nonetheless still relevant! I don’t know that solutions have changed much, but they have certainly got cheaper! The end of the copyright on Viagra saw it drop in price from $80-$100 per script to a mere $10! 

When I first decided to write a piece on HIV related impotence, I thought to myself “Hey, this is a pretty serious subject, and maybe you should treat it that way.” However, a visit to a sexual health clinic changed my mind on taking it too seriously, so here is a more tongue-in-cheek view on coping with impotence.

Firstly, don’t go onto the Internet and hope to find any information. I visited all my regular, usually reliable sites, and found absolutely nothing. There is plenty just on general impotence, but nothing on the HIV related. As usual with a lot of the more ‘delicate’ subjects (let’s face it, nobody likes admitting that ‘they can’t get it up’, there is bugger all information. As usual with a lot of HIV-related problems, nobody thinks it is really important, or perhaps that given the right length of time, the problem will just go away. But as we all know by now, that isn’t necessarily the case.

Visiting a sexual health clinic on the advice of my doctor – and clutching a referral – did come as a bit of a surprise to me. I don’t know what I was expecting, but it seemed like the sort of place where you would tell people that you were Mr X, and you are just here to inquire for a friend who is having problems!

It wasn’t tucked away in a dark alley, nor was the impotency problem treated as something only related to very old men, nor just one of nature’s aberrations. It was treated like a serious medical problem, and perhaps this was the one huge realisation. There was almost a blasé flippancy associated with the consultation, which I wasn’t expecting! As to the real reasons for HIV related impotency. I’m probably no more an expert than the guys who are trying to assist those of us with this problem. Everyone does seem to agree that as people live longer and longer with HIV, it is becoming a more widespread problem, irrespective of your actual health status. The fact that there don’t seem to be any studies covering this area at the moment should be of some concern, as the one thing we can be relatively sure of is that the problem is not just related to HIV. Some experts think it is just a natural progression of advanced HIV disease; others see it as being a side-effect of combination therapy (plus all the other drugs needed to handle HIV); some think it is related to having had AIDS (if you have had AIDS); or that it is related to peripheral neuropathy, especially long-term PN. For some of us, it is a problem of having lived with HIV for 20 odd years, and getting older. My neurologist doesn’t seem to concur with the PN idea, but personally I know that it is a distinct possibility. If PN can affect the way I move and get around, if it can cause other sorts of neurological disorders, I see no reason why it could not be related to impotency. Let’s be real. Those of us who have lived with HIV for as long as the disease has been around, are still coming up with things that nobody had even considered, let alone know what to do with. And as we all know, we don’t usually fit into any of the general categories, and what happens with us, health wise, is often unexpected. So, it is a bit of ‘by guess or by God’ at the moment, in trying to pin down the causes of this type of impotency.

The clinician proceeded to ask me the usual questions – are you in a relationship? Yes! How does your partner feel about this? Well, pretty unimpressed! I don’t think anybody would be really happy with this problem, from either side of the fence! Have you considered an open relationship? Well, that helps his problem, but it doesn’t really help mine! It wouldn’t exactly be a situation where you could go home and compare notes later on about your trade! Have you considered using a cockring? Now, I don’t know about anyone else, but I always thought these gizmos were more about aesthetics than practicalities – you know, visual stimulation and all that (not to mention adding a sizeable amount to the actual dimensions of a cock), but here it was, out of the world of sex shops and mail order, and onto a clinician’s desk. Talk about taking the erotic appeal, and the mystique, out of an object! To be told that the good old studded leather contraptions are just not good enough for this sort of problem was very disheartening. Now as to the suggested alternative, well I have to say that perhaps we should go the way of eroticism instead of common sense. A very wide rubber band! Yes, you heard that right! I was given a sample to take home and try – or a ‘medically authorised’ cockring, which I have to say, still being the owner of black rubber and leather rings, left a lot to be desired. I could see the purpose to it, but God, was it ugly! A flesh-coloured ring with a small handle on each side of it, so that it can be stretched over the erect penis, it almost looked like some bizarre love-handled item, or perhaps a sighting feature for those who can’t aim straight!


There was also a plethora of information on ‘Viagra’ and ‘Cavaject’. Now, both these are good products, and anyone having used them as prescribed will attest to this. However, there are drawbacks. ‘Viagra’ is not on the PBS, and at $55+ for 4 tablets, is very expensive if you are on a pension (this us no longer accurate. The copyright on Viagra expired a few years ago, and it is very cheap). You also have to be careful with it if you are on protease inhibitors. If you buy the larger size tablets, you will need a tablet cutter to split them, as they are very hard to break. But perhaps their biggest drawback is that you have to – sort of – plan your sex life, which kills any hopes of spontaneity with sex. It takes anywhere from 30-60 minutes to work (depending on your metabolism), and once you’ve taken it, you’d better hope your partners still in the mood when it kicks in; or that there are plenty of available partners; or that everyone doesn’t suddenly change their mind, and go back to sleep, because if that happens, there goes $15 down the drain! On the upside, if your partner is in the mood, you are about to give them one hell of a good time, but there is always that element of the unexpected. And waiting can be frustrating. It’s fine to tell your partner that you have just taken the tablet, but if he is ready to get into it after 20 minutes of foreplay, you could be left well behind in the stakes. Unfortunately for some of us, headaches are a side-effect of Viagra…so the sex had better be worth it!


Similarly, problems exist for ‘Cavaject’, though initially, it works a lot quicker than ‘Viagra’, being injected directly into the penis. If you are needle-shy, forget this! You probably also don’t want to see the video the sexual health clinics give to help you decide. To start with, they use a female doctor in it. Now, don’t get me wrong! I know female doctors are every bit as good as male! It is just disconcerting that in a scenario where it is a male problem being discussed with men, it is slightly off-putting to see this poor guy in the video stretching his penis out, holding it as though it is about to spit poison, then aiming a needle at it as a female voice in the background goes ‘Very good. You are going well’. The fact that she looks a bit like everybody’s mother probably doesn’t help, either (no offence to whoever she is). Now, if this doesn’t put you off, the price, and the procedure, probably will. I managed to do a bit of stockpiling just before it went off the PBS, thankfully. It went from $3.50 for 5 injections to $80+ overnight. Again, you wouldn’t want to be wasting it on frivolous events. It does have the added plus, as I mentioned earlier, of working instantly. And boy, when it works, it works! We are talking rock hard to the point of impressive here! However, just make sure that you don’t hit any veins or capillaries on the way in, as a gusher of blood can be a bit of a passion killer. They show you how it is done to avoid this, but as with all things, we weren’t all cut from the same pattern. You also have to be careful with the needle, as you can get a bruise from a misplaced shot (or perhaps an over-eager shot!). It is a simple procedure, and it really doesn’t hurt, though I encountered a slight stinging for a few seconds just after the initial injection. I had a sexual encounter with a guy – in his home – prior to this revelation. I was already rearing to go…when he suddenly disappeared…only to return a couple of minutes later sporting a very impressinly hard erection! It is only now that I realise what he was doing.


I’m also sure that a lot of you HIV guys are now familiar with regular injections of ‘Sustenon’, a testosterone topper-upper. It is very effective if you have depleted testosterone levels, but doesn’t serve much purpose if you fall into the normal reading range, and your impotency is caused by other factors. ‘Sustenon’ is not cheap either, being in the $30+ range. I think this is a major concern with ‘Viagra’, ‘Cavaject’ and ‘Sustenon’, in that now, none of them are available on the PBS (unless, in the case of ‘Sustenon’, you can show depleted levels of hormone). Okay, if you are a vain person with no medical problems, and you just want to show off your sexual prowess, then you should have to pay for these products! However, when the PBS definitions and classifications of uses for ‘Viagra’ and ‘Sustenon’ went through reclassification, HIV disease was NOT defined as a reason for being able to have them prescribed. The definitions have never changed, despite research that shows these are problems often associated with HIV. So, to be HIV+, and to want a healthy, normal sex life means you have to pay through the nose. If you are on a pension, consider joining a monastery! The choice is 4 or 5 ecstatic sexual encounters, or starvation. On second thoughts, I may have to think about that!

Now, this brings me back to the brochure I walked home with after that little visit to the clinic. Not only pictures and order-form for a natty little injection kit for ‘Cavaject’, and the love-handle cockring, but also a vacuum pump. Now, last time I saw one of these items – and it was recently – was on an ‘adult only’ site (you know the sort I mean! The ones that require adult verification!), and the use it was being put to was not medical. Hell, when I used to manage ‘Numbers’ Bookshop (a lifetime ago), these were amongst my best selling items – from the cheapest, through to the elite models. I have to say that on this particular site I was on, they did show budget-wise reasons for using this devise, as two guys were using it at the same time. You could time-share with a friend I guess, but the fact of both of you wanting sex with different people at the same time is probably pretty remote, so it probably isn’t convenient to do it this way. I can see that they have a certain erotic appeal, and would probably be fun as foreplay, but imagine the extreme situations that could possibly occur. Over-pumping to start with, or getting the old boy stuck! Try explaining that in A&E, let alone telling them that you bought it through a medical catalogue.

Though, ideally, I don’t see any of these things – apart, perhaps, from ‘Viagra’ – as totally expedient ways of overcoming impotency, it is a ‘different strokes for different folks’ scenario, and in a lot of cases, doing something is better than doing nothing. We’d all like a reasonable sex-life, and if it means going to some sort of extreme, I guess most of us would be willing to swallow a little pride, and use whatever props we have to. On the upside, on ACA a couple of weeks ago, there was a story about this guy who has been successfully trialling a capsule that dissolves under your tongue, and guarantees pretty quick results. I did ask my pharmacist about this, and he claims it will probably be a couple of years before it is available. I say let’s try and get on the trial!

In the meantime, I guess we are going to have to either scrape up the money to go down the ‘Sustenon’/’Viagra’/’Cavaject’ road, or stock up on appliances. Whichever way we choose, as HIV+ people we are used to being creative, and I’m sure our imaginations won’t let us down in the sex department.

Go for it, people!

If all else fails, there is always this alternative…


Tim Alderman © 2002 (Revised 2017)

About Losing…Um…You Know…IT!

Article, Gay Interest, General Interest, Humour, , , ,

This article was prompted by a documentary on SBS by a woman who investigated the rather ridiculous over-emphasis we place on virginity. It set me thinking about my own unique journey, which was, in many ways, influenced by concepts of social “norms”.

“I didn’t lose my virginity – I know exactly who has it!”

If I have a singular regret about my life, it would be not having sex before 25! The sex act is not there to make life for shy, gawky guys like me an easy thing to approach. It can, in fact, be quite frightening.

Sex was NEVER discussed in our household, and going to school through the late 50s and 60s meant that no help was forthcoming from that educational institution. The only sex education I got at school was the smutty gossip and imaginings of other pre-pubescent boys! At one sports afternoon, whilst dodging said sport (thus making it an art form for me) I got into a discussion with another 10 or 11 year old, who informed me, in a whispered conversation – and fuck only knows how the subject even came up – that women got pregnant by hoys sticking their pee pees into womans woo woos! I was horrified at the prospect – after all, pee pees were for wee wees, and nothing else – told him, after a flustered “liar liar pants on fire” that it was a big fat fib, clutched my head with my hands, and ran screaming home. I wasn’t silly! I watched enough movies to know that kissing was the culprit (the man and woman in the movie would kiss, then things would fade out, then she’d be telling him she was preggers), though nature only allowed strangers you kissed to get pregnant – you were safe if you kissed family. I thought that boy was disgusting, and an idiot!

I was an early bloomer, and by the age of 9 I had not only started to get pubic hair – diligently pulled out by me, as I thought that seeing as no one else had it, I must have been a bit of a freak – but nightly emissions had started, both natural and induced. The mechanics of wanking off with my hand hadn’t occured to me at this stage, but the friction method on the newly starched sheets worked a treat. My poor mother must have been in quite a quandry as to what to do, as she must have known, being the one doing the laundry. After my nocturnal shenanigans had been going on for some time, I awoke one morning to find that Jesus had visited during the night, and had left me some nice Christian literature on sex and procreation! I read it, but all the biblical language of vaginas, vulvas, uteruses, urethras, penis & testicles – without a practical re-enacting of it – left me confounded, and I ended up none the wiser. So much for my sexual education. Is it any wonder I chose virginity for the next 14 years!

It was around this time that my brothe Kevin and I discovered that girls had different bits. Even at this tender age, I already knew that mens bits were much more interesting to me than girls bits, but I decided that the differences warranted further investigation, if nothing else. Diane Cliffe lived two doors up, and wasn’t adverse to a game of Doctors and Nurses, though we could have done without her telling her mother about it. It didn’t go down well, and Diane was banned from visiting (just as we were planning an appendectomy!), though, to give them their due, my parents just viewed it as kids indulging in kids natural curiosity. The subject was never raised, and I knew nothing of the outrage until many years later.

I do remember my first orgasm -which progressed to the nocturnal emissions stage (see above) – as it happened so unexpectedly during a 5th class lesson period. I don’t actually know what I was doing to bring it on, but I was gazing out the window when this wonderful feeling overcame me, and despite not knowing what it was, I knew it felt really good, if not a little messy. I was on my way! From 1967-1969 I was at a Catholic boarding school, and a life of guilt-ridden wanking continued (confession was an easy way to alleviate the gult – “I touched myself, Father”; “How many times, my son”; “A lot, Father!”; “For your penance 10 Our Fathers and 10 Hail Mary’s”, and we were ready for our next run of sinful pleasure). All the boys in the dorm must have been as frantically pulling-the-pud as I was, but I can’t recollect catching out one single person in my three years there. I did get groped in the pool on one occasion, and never let on about it – I sort of think I enjoyed it – as probably did the boy who grabbed it! Unfortunately, there were no circle jerks or sly assignations! My education was at a stand-still! However, it did encourage my fetish for Speedos – the swimwear of chouce in that period.

Things really didn’t improve a lot after I left school at the end of ’69, and started work.The only thing I knew for sure was that I was gay (a poof, to use the vernacular of the times), but this wasn’t a good period for coming out, which was an unlikely thing for me to do anyway considering my upbringing and naive innocence. I’m pretty sure many suspected, but no one tackled me about it. In hindsight, having a couple of the Grace Brothers rather non-discreet, effeminate window dressers in our social group, who were totally accepted,  should have hinted to me that nobody would probably have raised an eyebrow if I had outed myself. So, I put up a front, and dated girls. I never was good at the dating game, which probably explains why they never went past the first date. I felt awkward on dates, was never sure of what was expected of me, so it was a pretty well hands-off situation, and if the girls expected to get to first or second base with me…it never happened. I didn’t have a car, so all dating was done via public transport and cabs, which  probably didn’t help. But it wasn’t a one way street – I was a fairly good looking boy, and a fashionable dresser, so I had my fair share of girls pursuing me, but I managed to avoid most advances, and they usually gave up eventually. I did have girls as friends, and despite two awkward situations – Lynne Broome professed undying love for me, and Jo Conway…who was to out herself as a lesbian a couple of years later…tried to seduce me in my apartment after I left home, and was the first to see through my facade – I enjoyed their company, and I think that in many respects, they enjoyed a male interaction that was – pethaps oddly – non-sexual.

Jo and I often went out together – my father thought we were dating – and she introduced me…passively…to the sin and temptation of Oxford Street, Darlinghurst. I had at that time (the mid-70s) little idea of just what a huge part of my life was to be played out on this strip in years to come. She was someone I felt safe with, and I have often regretted how our lives grew apart.

By this time, I was living on my own in Allowah. Now, if you think that my apartment was a hot bed of sin and debauchery, with neverending sex parties and orgies, let me assure you – it wasn’t! The only person having sex there was me – with me! I hung out with a large group of straight people- at least, to my knowledge they were – and it had to have been obvious to them that I wasn’t quite on the same wave length as they were. I never turned up at any parties or restaurant meals with a girl/girlfriend in tow, nor did I join in any of the slap and tickle conversations amongst the boys. It was a life of quiet desperation!

There was one notable event around 1972…I would have been 18. It could have been a turning point, but if anything, it slammed the closet door tightly closed. It was a very daring act for me, and I gyess what should have been an eye-opener for me in being accepted for who I am, and that my work colleagues at E.L.Downes at aRoselands didn’t judge, but encouraged the action, so it wasn’t as though it was unacceptable. A much older man – though quite handsome – called Leigh worked downstairs in the Clarke Rubber store. We always smiled and waved to each other whenever I walked past the store, we’d chat, and usually caught the same bus to Kogarah after work. He was obviously gay. During one of our chats, he invited me out for dinner, and I accepred. I thought later that it may have been a rash decision on my part, a spur-of-the-moment thing that I may live to regret, but I went ahead with it anyway. On the night of the date, we got a cab into Kings Cross, and he took me to a very exclusive restaurant called Mrs Beeton’s Tent. My expectation was that I may have to put out, but part of the expectation was that he’d take me home for whatever dalliances were expected as payment. On the cab ride back to Kogarah he held my hand – the first time I had ever had an intimate touch with another man. But arriving back at Kogarah, we got out at a local park, where he informed me that he lived with his mother. The expectation on his part was – sex in the public toilet in the park. I was horrified! I mumbled something about my father expecting me home, and fled! For some reason, he never spoke to me again. Ah, lost opportunities! I may have become  a beat queen…

And so it went on until 1978. By this time, it was starting to cross my mind that perhaps – just perhaps – I was destined to never have sex with anyone…of any sex! My habitual reticence and almost obsessive shyness were personality traits that were proving my own worst enemy. By the time 1978 rolled around, I was living in a share house in Granville with friends. I knew Bede from the group I hung out with, and through him I met Sue. She in turn introduced me to Ronnie (Veronica) who was to have a more profound influence on my life than she could have ever believed possible. She was an attractive woman, well dressed, and a single mother. Her daughter Ann was just gorgeous, so it is perhaps not surprising that we hit it off. This was a bad period for me, as I was pretty sure I was gay, but had no idea what to do about it. It was doing my head in! And I was battling it on my own, with no one I could discuss it with, or get advice in regards to my options. So, I dated Ronnie, though only for two dates. I took her out for dinner one night, and getting back home some heavy petting ensued. She was the first person to give me a head job, but sex had to wait, as she wasn’t on the pill. As she was leaving, she asked me if I was a virgin! Fuck…is it stamped across my forehead! I admitted as much – like DUR – and pretty well screamed at her CAN I JUST GET RID OF IT!

I’d worked my way through “The Joy of Sex”, so knew all the mechanics of sex, all the ins and outs, all the do’s and don’t do’s. So, a week later, I went in with eyes open. I can’t recollect being all that nervous, and to my benefit I think I put on a pretty confident and impressive show. It was no Karma Sutra performance, but there was foreplay, I went down on her – which I don’t think she was expecting – and it was a substantial fuck session before I blew. But there was one very big problem, and that problem was to direct the way my life was to play out from that point! To achieve an orgasm with Ronnie…I had to fantasise that I was having sex with a man! If I had been unsure before, by the time she left that night I knew that I was definitely gay. I am still a bit ashamed of myself how I avoided her after the popping-the-cherry night, but there was no way I could have explained to her what was going on without her feeling used and demeaned, so I took the easy way out via avoidance!

In 1978, my father committed suicide, which on its own was a providential event. I was sent to Melbourne by my company in late 1979 to troubleshoot their retail businesses there. No further instances of sexual dalliances had occured over that time, but I went to Melbourne knowing that my path was set. It was just a matter of time, and circumstances. I am not going into my coming out here, as there is an article about it here on my blog, but suffice it to say that with my father dead, in a strange city, away from the prying eyes of family and friends, I was presented with the perfect opportunity to come out, and my desire to do something about it was set in stone. Within 6-months of hitting that city, I finally made my move. Now to lose my gay virginity!

But even that intention proved to be a very bumpy road! Naturally – well, to me, antway – my follow-on reading from “The Joy of Sex” was “The Joy of Gay Sex”, so once again I went into the arena fully prepared…and totally clueless! As noted in my coming out story, I joined Acceptance Melbourne, a group for gay Catholics, as a catalyst to smooth my way into the gay community, That I was no longer a practising Catholic didn’t come into the equation. Any port in a storm, you might say! So, I met Frank at a social, at the University Club (a gay venue on Friday & Saturday nights, in Swanson Street) after a First Friday Mass. He made the move on me, which was perhaps not surprising, being new to the group. He was older than me, and not my choice as far as looks went, buy hey…I was a virgin on several fronts, not the least being that ability to say thanks-but-no-thanks to people you don’t fancy trying to pick you up! It was a lesson I learnt quickly.

So, the end of the night found me in Frank’s car – much to the consternation of a couple of younger members of the group who thought they may have had a crack at me – being driven to some far-flung…literally…suburb of Melbourne. Frank had my cock out of my fly before we even got out of the car park, and proceeded to give me head at every set of lights – many – along the way! Being my first sexual encounter with a man, I think I would have been excited under any circumstances. And I should point out – no one knew I wasn’t a sexually experienced gay man! This was sort of stupid, as it came with the expectation that I knew what I was doing. Nothing was further from the truth! So the blow jobs on the way to Franks were to be pretyy well the highlight of the night. It was all down hill from there! Being a newcomer to the scene I wasn’t familiar with the concepts of a “top” (the active partner, or fucker), and “bottom” (the passive partner, or fuckee), and Frank evidently ex pected me to be the top. For my part, I expected him to guide the proceedings, but it didn’t pan out that way. The night finished with a mutual wank session, before he shuffled me onto the train back to Melbourne city. My first encounter with gay sex left me very disillusioned! Was this all it was about!

My subsequent next encounter with Fred wasn’t a hell of a lot more successful, but it taught me the necessity of taking opposing sexualities into account when interacting with other men on a sexual level. Fred was into light S & M…fuck, I was battling to lose my virginity, let alone take on a fetish…and was heavily into the beat scene. Our relationship was destined not to last. I starred hanging out at “Mandate” nightclub in St Kilda, and that started opening doors for me. I had my first encounter with public sex when I was given a blow job on the edge of the dance floor – yes, the guy was attractive – and I did start picking guys up. I adopted the clone look, and being relatively good looking I had no trouble getting regular sex. My sexual expertise improved, but I was always the one going top! However, all that changed at a First Friday Mass at my flat in West Brunswick. Kevin, a close friend of mine, bought a friend, Barry, with him…a very attractive friend! I was smitten! He stayed to help clean up…then right royally fucked me! I was so turned on by having such a hot guy topping me for the first time that I put on a performance that any porn actor would have been proud of. And it converted me from top…to bottom. My cherry was well and truly popped! I took to it like a duck to water.  From that point, I never looked back.

Despite coming out late in life, I’ve had a very interesting and diverse sex life. Despite jokingly calling myself a slut, I have slept with nowhere near the number of men most others I know have. Not being into beats, backrooms (I’ve done that 2-3 times), or saunas (I’ve done that once) my pick-up life has always relied on the pubs and nightclubs, which keeps it a bit under control. You learn to pick that fine line whereby a potential root has had enough to drink to get him interested, but not so much that they pass out. I’ve made a fool of myself a few times, had a lot of laughs, and a lot of great – and memorable – sex. Some of this time has been tinged with sadness, and there have been several “fireworks” encounters. I was flattered to find out that I was considered a good root. I’ve had five serious relationships – one of which lasted for 16 years. I’ve had 3 really beautiful fuck buddies; Paul – who I’ve always been in love with, but careers got in our way – for 10 years; Graham, who I met through a threesome (and who was in an abusive relationship) for 5 years; and Gregg – a married guy with two kids from Forbes, for 3 years. I’m comfortable with my fetishes – jockstraps, Y-fronts, and Speedo’s – and have met nothing but nutters through the sex apps. If this is the future of sex, it’s very sad!

In a way, I’m back to square one. I’ve even gone back to being a top.Except for the good old-fashioned hand jobs, I haven’t had sex with another guy for about 2 years. Being 63 and single, I’m really not expecting them to line up at the door. And if I have to be honest, I don’t really care. I like it that I do things just for myself now. If I slip into a jockstrap, it’s for my own pleasure; when I go to the gym, it’s done to impress me; I no longer have to ply myself with alcohol in a bar to get the Dutch courage to pick someone up; and I can sit in a cafe on my own and not feel lonely. It may have taken me a long time to finally lose my virginity, and there may have been some odd diversions along the way, but it’s been a great, fun journey. And though I may wish that I had started the fucking journey a lot earlier, it may not have been as interesting if I had. I look back on the abstinence years with humour now.

“We live in a world where losing your phone is more dramatic than losing your virginity!”

And that is as it should be!

Tim Alderman (C 2016)

Gay History: How To Spot A Possible Homo!

Article, Gay Interest, History, Humour, , ,

I hope this helps…

 

1962 Newspaper Article

http://www.telegraph.co.uk/culture/books/3605777/A-change-of-shape.html

A change of shape

Robert Douglas-Fairhurst reviews Strangers: Homosexual Love in the Nineteenth Century by Graham Robb

12:01AM GMT 03 Nov 2003

How do you pick out a gay man in a crowd? According to Dr La Forest Potter’s Strange Loves, published in 1933, “the average homosexual” differs from “ordinary men” in 10 easily identifiable ways: he has “large, easily aroused nipples”, “a mincing walk”, “sloped and rounded shoulders”, “thick, luxuriant hair”, “a hairless chest”, “soft, delicate skin” free of manly spots, a lack of “dogmatic energy”, a “peculiar swinging motion of the hips” due to anatomical defects in the spine and pelvis, “a considerable deposit of fat in the region of hips, breasts and thighs”, and – the clinching clue – “feminine buttocks”.

Clearly the author of Strange Loves was a little peculiar himself (how could he know that homosexual nipples were “easily aroused”?), but he is hardly an isolated figure in the troubled history of 20th-century attitudes towards homosexuality. From Raphael Kirchner’s 1908 German handbook, How to Recognise Homosexuals, to the two-page guide on “How to Spot a Possible Homo” published in the Sunday Mirror in 1963 (“shifty glances”, “dropped eyes”, “a fondness for the theatre”), it has long been popular wisdom that “one of them” is easily distinguishable from “one of us”. Whether seen as a choice or a compulsion, in everything from lifestyle to hairstyle, the assumption has been that homosexuality is a secret that simply cannot be kept. It is as if the world had been told that the root of “homosexual”, “homos”, is Greek for “same”, meaning that there are men who fall in love with other men, and had misunderstood it to mean that homosexuals are all the same.

Recently, much of the blame for this sorry state of affairs has been laid at the door of the Victorians. According to the most popular line of argument, although there had always been same-sex activity between men, only during the 19th century did the exclusively homosexual person emerge as a distinct social type. Both as a word and a concept, “homosexuality” was a Victorian invention. From the doctors who attempted to diagnose homosexuality (Ambroise Tardieu claimed in 1857 that the telltale signs in men included a corkscrew-shaped penis and a large bottom: “I have seen one pederast whose buttocks were joined and formed a single, perfect sphere”) to the politicians who attempted to legislate against it, the 19th century gave birth not only to “the homosexual” but to the repressive social forces that continued to echo through the 20th century.

This, at least, is the version of events, much influenced by Michel Foucault’s writings on sexuality, which is dutifully wheeled out by most histories of gay life. But then, Foucault was never one to let the facts get in the way of a good theory and, as Graham Robb’s revisionist account proves, the truth was rather more complicated and a lot more interesting.

Almost every page of this book reverberates with the sound of stereotypes being flattened. For example, the assumption that the Victorians were repressive in their attitudes towards illicit sexual behaviour hardly squares with what was accepted and even celebrated. Consider the case of “Fanny” Park, a drag queen arrested for using the ladies’ room at the Strand Theatre, whose acquittal on sodomy charges in 1870 – secured by his solicitor, the wonderfully named Mr Straight – was loudly cheered; or the tight-trousered rent boys (“mollies”) who were an established tourist attraction in both London and New York; or the odd couples, such as the “married” artists Charles Ricketts and Charles Shannon, whose unconventional households attracted some notoriety and a great deal of indifference.

Indeed, for a love that supposedly dared not speak its name, homosexuality was a surprisingly noisy part of Victorian life, less a subculture than a parallel culture that ran alongside and occasionally ran into the heterosexual mainstream. Even Jane Austen, who was hardly in the vanguard of permissiveness, allowed herself a sly joke about gay sex, when Mary Crawford in Mansfield Park discusses her knowledge of admirals: “Of Rears, and Vices, I saw enough. Now, do not be suspecting me of a pun, I entreat.”

Not that the 19th century was an oasis of tolerance and good sense. Most gay men and women remained strangers to the society that had the power to ostracise them or lock them up. Many also remained strangers to one another. It could be hard to recognise a like-minded soul, and Robb has some moving examples of the tactics needed to sound someone out about their sexuality, simultaneously leading on and backing off, without risking rejection or assault.

Even if this hurdle was overcome, there was no guarantee that two gay people, like any other two people, would have anything to talk about. Oscar Wilde cannot have been alone in finding it hard to reconcile his ideals of a pure Grecian love with the pimply youths he took to bed, like the two Cockney lads Frank Harris recalled seeing him with at the Café Royal, talking about the Olympic Games. “‘Did you sy they was niked?’ ‘Of course,’ Oscar replied, ‘nude, clothed only in sunshine and beauty.'”

Perhaps inevitably, such public displays in the period are rare; the history of Victorian gay life is less one of explicit confessions than it is of flirtatious hints and glimpses. Fleshing out these details into a rich and satisfying narrative, Robb is an ideal guide to the period – unfailingly intelligent, compassionate and discreetly witty.

His earlier biographies of Hugo and Rimbaud showed that he has a sharp eye for the way that real lives tend to resist the neat shapes we impose on them, and Strangers is crammed with statistics and anecdotes that succeed brilliantly in changing what we thought we knew about homosexuality, both then and now. In seeking to explain some of the messy and unpredictable workings of love, Robb has produced a rare thing: not just a book with ideas, but a book with heart.

And this wonderful send-up;

http://www.landoverbaptist.net/showthread.php?t=53674

How to spot a homosexual: A step by step guide – 11-07-2010, 04:56 PM

Homosexuals are amongst us. Every day, they discreetly pollute the Good Lord’s Earth with their filthy ways. Luckily, me and Dimitri, at the Domnino League Against Sodomites, have compiled a list of data that will assist you in telling whether your closest friends are secretly queers.

Eating and Drinking:
Whether at the bathhouse, drinking beverages (in appropriate amounts, as prescribed in Timothy 5:23) in the company of fellow Christians, or simply eating lunch on the truck roads of northern Siberia, eating and drinking habits of those within your group of friends will reveal whether or not they are Closetfags™.
Foods consumed by men:

Anything with more than half a pound of meat.
Anything fried or deep fried.

Anything pie-like of the appropriate size.

Anything hunted/skinned yourself and cooked by your wife and/or daughter(s).

Foods consumed by homosexuals:
Anything that comes in small, faggy portions (Sushi, “Cocktail Snacks”)
Anything with a foreign name (Especially if in French)

Anything that is shared with other men (Tapas)

Drinks consumed by men:
Wine (Only if you are depressed. Wine must have a pronouncable name to avoid being mixed with “Faggy wine” [See below] ) Proverbs 31:6-7
Spirits (See Wine)

Beer (See Wine)

Water

Anything produced by the Coca-Cola Company, except drinks which reference fruit. These are considered “fruity”, e.g. homosexual beverages.

e.g. Coca-Cola Cherry.

Drinks consumed by homosexuals:

Cocktails (Notice the name!) – Not a proper drink. Any drink that is a mixture of two or more normally separate drinks is considered a cocktail.
Faggy Wine – Wine made outside of own country, probably in France. The name is distinctly not-English sounding and the label will most likely have pictures of men holding hands.

Conversation:
Homosexuals can often be caught out by listening to their conversation.
Conversation Word Limit
Men talk to exchange information. If any man exceeds the standard limit of 20 words per minute (Unless he is recounting a glorious story of conquest, preaching or praying), he is surely a homosexual.
If you fear you are nearly exceeding this limit in daily conversation, try the following tricks:
* Cut down on words like “Sure.”, “Okay.”, “Nah.” and replace them with indistinct grunts, or glares in the general direction of the person with whom the conversation is occuring.
* Ignore questions, then reproach them for asking you the same thing twice.

Topics of conversation suitable for men;

Comparing engine/tyre/gas tank sizes
Car/truck/van mechanical problems

Comparing your current events (Awful times) to similar events occuring 1/5/10/20 years ago (Good, Holy Christian times)

Your wife/daughter’s inability to cook/clean/etc.

Most recent [manly sport of your choice] game.

Women (In appropriate Christian fashion)

The Bible.

Topics of conversation considered homosexual:
The Weather (In a positive manner):
e.g. “The stars are so beautiful today.”

‘Famous people’ you haven’t heard of.

Clothes

Anything that uses the word “Gorgeous” or synonyms.

Indepth descriptions of sexual activities with other men.

Anything that is prefaced with “You’ll never guess what I saw in Vogue today!”

Other Signs
* In public toilets, a man uses a urinal next to your own.
* He often walks like a cowboy, but you have never seen him ride a horse.

* When you take a shower, he looks through your bathroom window.

Please add to our list if you find anything that is miss. Dimitri & I work very hard and will update once we discover more about this plague. If you suspect you have homosexuals in your neighbourhood, please seek professional aid and do not go outside alone.
Praise Christ.
Tim Alderman 2015