Tuesday, October 09, 2007


Saturday afternoon, Starbucks just off Castro Street, or as the locals call this coffee house in the heart of this epicenter of the SF gay scene, “Starbears”. Folsom weekend is in full swing and the place is packed as Alex and I weave our way through the throngs of men sipping their coffee. As we wait for our fix to be delivered by our green aproned caffeine pusher I cant help but feel the like I’m being watched. Sure the place is packed and we exchange smiles and nods with the other patrons, no this is different. The eyes of an unseen watcher bore into my back, making the little hairs on the back of my neck stand. Casually as possible I make a visual sweep of the place trying to spot the source. Shifting through the crowd I spot him, a young lad just off to my left. Bespeckled eyes stare at me from above a laptop where he was probably working on some college related thing. He has that look, young and earnest. The wire rim glasses and beard make me think post grad student probably? Something involving literature written by dead Russians or an esoteric element of language.

Getting ogled by men no longer fazes me; I mentally shrug my shoulders in a “just another day in the life…” sorta way and make for the door, watched ever intently. Just outside Alex announces that he needs to use the facilities. As he plunges back into the crowed shop I find an open chair on the sidewalk and enjoy the fleeting remains of the gloriously sunny afternoon. No sooner am I seated than the watcher makes his move. Approaching with caution he closes in to make his pitch, “Um, hi. I see you are with your boy and all, but I saw that you were flagging green* and just had to tell you that I think you are really hot.”

No matter what your orientation, it is always flattering and sweet when someone says they find you attractive. While I’m not about to take this kid up in his offer, I do my best to graciously thank him while offering him a minimum of openings for further advances. Alex returns just as he nervously nods his goodbyes and parts with, “maybe I’ll see you at the fair tomorrow?”

Alex greets me with a raised eyebrow and a look of, “I can’t leave you alone for 5 minutes in this town”

Fast forward to Sunday, Folsom Street. Tens of thousands of leather men, perverts and gawkers descend upon 6 blocks of downtown SF. In this shoulder to shoulder throng of bodies who should make a beeline to us? Yep you guessed it. (How he found us amongst the masses is beyond me, Alex argues that boys hunt by smell. I kept looking to see if he somehow placed a homing beacon on me when I was not looking) There standing before Alex and I was my star struck admirer, dressed in a hot pink camisole and boots no less. If I swung this particular direction this display of interest would endearing and sweet, however Monk’s “good idea meter” (that would be my cock, for those of you playing along at home) just does not respond to this particular form of attention. Alas, no dice young fan, still I’m not about to be an ass to this man’s misdirected affection. Nah, he has not crossed any boundaries and been very respectful, so I see no harm in stopping to chat and exchange pleasantries. We chat for a few and then with a pat on his curly head I send him on his way, pink camisole soon engulfed in the sea of leather and flesh.

Chuckling, I pull a cigar from my vest pocket and give it a light.
Again, Alex gives me that raised brow look and says, “Daddy, you are SUCH a cocktease”

* Alex and I have patterned our relationship after Daddy/boy dynamic. When in public together we often flag hunter green hankies to denote this.

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