from your sex partner (not everybody does) a good hustler will do as well, or even better, than a casual pickup. Even more important, the hustler option will be more efficient than the casual pickup. Only the romantic illusion won't be there.
1 . "Besides turning up in the most unexpected places, affection is promiscuity's main motive and its salient result" for a large segment of the promiscuous cruisers. The Homosexual Matrix , C.A. Tripp (New York: New American Library, 1976), p. 142.I have no insights at all to offer about gay cruisers who want anonymous sex without affection.
If we start out with the premise (which we have inherited from heterosexuals) that in order to be a fulfilled gay human being one must have a committed sexual relationship with only one other gay man, then, of course, consorting with hustlers is a problem, not a solution. If, on the other hand, we honor our lustfulness (which exists regardless of whether we honor or dishonor it), then hustlers are a viable solution for some gay men.
* * *
I ought to write a bit more about lust and affection, because the whole point of this book is that good hustlers can provide affection to clients who want it. First, we need to be honest with ourselves. Much gay sex takes place by choice to satisfy raw lust. A recent issue of the San Francisco Frontiers News Magazine features some 400 personal ads. These ads come under three headings: Relationships, Cruising , and Raunch . Only one-quarter of the ads are listed under Relationships . The rest of the advertisers chose to place their ads under Cruising and Raunch . 2 These advertisers must know from experience that casual sex—as opposed to dating, going steady, and culminating with tying the knot—can be a very satisfying experience.
2 . San Francisco Frontiers News Magazine , May 22, 1997, pp. 43-53.
Were I a poet, I would compose an "Ode to Lust." Lacking the skill, I will recount a personal anecdote.
LUST CONQUERS ALL
My first trip to Japan took place in the summer of 1967. I had read a lot about the country but had not yet studied Japanese. I relied on the (very erroneous) information that everybody in Japan spoke some English.
I arrived in Tokyo early in the morning local time. By dinner time I was tired and irritable due to jet lag. At 9 p.m., I took a taxi to a gay bar. Before entering, I stood outside to clear my head for a while. The cutest Japanese guy, apparently also on his way to the bar, stopped right in front of me. He did not display a broad, friendly smile, which would have run counter to Japanese etiquette. But I interpreted his stare as a "can we get it on" look, and I, not bound by strict etiquette, grinned broadly.
"My name is Joseph," I said, bowing more or less properly.
He replied, "My name is Watanabe," and bowed at the proper angle.
I extended my right hand and said profoundly: "Watanabe san !"
He extended his hand. As we shook hands he tried, unsuccessfully, to repeat my name, adding san to it.
We stood there for a while shaking each other's hands. When we finally disengaged our hands, I came up with something even more profound to say. "My first day in Japan."
"I... no English speak," said Watanabe san, pointing at his nose. (This is the emphatic form in Japanese for "I.")
"I do not speak Japanese," said I.
From there on, the quality of our conversation deteriorated. I grew panicky. I was afraid that he would tire of me and disappear into the bar. I was really too tired to follow him and try to cruise him there. I needed to say something that would be understood readily, and convey my intention. I stayed at the Dai Ichi Hotel. I remembered that the Japanese word for hotel was hoteru. I looked straight into his soulful eyes and said, "Dai Ichi Hoteru. We go!"
Right on cue, a taxi drove by. I hailed it, and holding onto Watanabe's elbow guided him into it. During the long, silent ride, I kept worrying about the prominent sign at the Dai Ichi's lobby, right by the
1 . "Besides turning up in the most unexpected places, affection is promiscuity's main motive and its salient result" for a large segment of the promiscuous cruisers. The Homosexual Matrix , C.A. Tripp (New York: New American Library, 1976), p. 142.I have no insights at all to offer about gay cruisers who want anonymous sex without affection.
If we start out with the premise (which we have inherited from heterosexuals) that in order to be a fulfilled gay human being one must have a committed sexual relationship with only one other gay man, then, of course, consorting with hustlers is a problem, not a solution. If, on the other hand, we honor our lustfulness (which exists regardless of whether we honor or dishonor it), then hustlers are a viable solution for some gay men.
* * *
I ought to write a bit more about lust and affection, because the whole point of this book is that good hustlers can provide affection to clients who want it. First, we need to be honest with ourselves. Much gay sex takes place by choice to satisfy raw lust. A recent issue of the San Francisco Frontiers News Magazine features some 400 personal ads. These ads come under three headings: Relationships, Cruising , and Raunch . Only one-quarter of the ads are listed under Relationships . The rest of the advertisers chose to place their ads under Cruising and Raunch . 2 These advertisers must know from experience that casual sex—as opposed to dating, going steady, and culminating with tying the knot—can be a very satisfying experience.
2 . San Francisco Frontiers News Magazine , May 22, 1997, pp. 43-53.
Were I a poet, I would compose an "Ode to Lust." Lacking the skill, I will recount a personal anecdote.
LUST CONQUERS ALL
My first trip to Japan took place in the summer of 1967. I had read a lot about the country but had not yet studied Japanese. I relied on the (very erroneous) information that everybody in Japan spoke some English.
I arrived in Tokyo early in the morning local time. By dinner time I was tired and irritable due to jet lag. At 9 p.m., I took a taxi to a gay bar. Before entering, I stood outside to clear my head for a while. The cutest Japanese guy, apparently also on his way to the bar, stopped right in front of me. He did not display a broad, friendly smile, which would have run counter to Japanese etiquette. But I interpreted his stare as a "can we get it on" look, and I, not bound by strict etiquette, grinned broadly.
"My name is Joseph," I said, bowing more or less properly.
He replied, "My name is Watanabe," and bowed at the proper angle.
I extended my right hand and said profoundly: "Watanabe san !"
He extended his hand. As we shook hands he tried, unsuccessfully, to repeat my name, adding san to it.
We stood there for a while shaking each other's hands. When we finally disengaged our hands, I came up with something even more profound to say. "My first day in Japan."
"I... no English speak," said Watanabe san, pointing at his nose. (This is the emphatic form in Japanese for "I.")
"I do not speak Japanese," said I.
From there on, the quality of our conversation deteriorated. I grew panicky. I was afraid that he would tire of me and disappear into the bar. I was really too tired to follow him and try to cruise him there. I needed to say something that would be understood readily, and convey my intention. I stayed at the Dai Ichi Hotel. I remembered that the Japanese word for hotel was hoteru. I looked straight into his soulful eyes and said, "Dai Ichi Hoteru. We go!"
Right on cue, a taxi drove by. I hailed it, and holding onto Watanabe's elbow guided him into it. During the long, silent ride, I kept worrying about the prominent sign at the Dai Ichi's lobby, right by the
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