[Breeder] Sunday Morning Questions: Virgins, Dragons, and Glory Holes Edition

[TheBreeder]

To see Breeder's original blog post click here

A few weeks back I answered a question about whether or not I enjoyed de-virginizing guys, and my response bent more than a few noses out of shape. I got emails afterward, and notes on Twitter and Facebook, and one ecard (I usually don't open those, but this one came in a simple postcard format) respectfully disagreeing with me on what I said. Which was the following:

If the virgin in question is a guy who's never been fucked simply because he's been too scared to get out there and meet guys have have sex with them, and if he's in his thirties or forties or later and is looking for me to give him the experience he's whacked off about and fantasized over and never actually done anything about, I'm not interested. It's not because of his age, and it's not precisely because of his inexperience—it's more because I'm turned off when people waste so much of their lives fantasizing about things easily within their grasps, without ever attempting to make them real.

Now, I don't think my position was too extreme, but to some of my readers it sounded a little ungenerous. People have their reasons not to be whores like me, they gently chided. They have perfectly good justifications for living their lives the way they do, and sometimes not having same-sex nookie is just something they can't fit into their lives.

To which I reply, that's possibly true. But it still doesn't mean I want to be the one to break them in, in their mid-forties.

There are a couple of circumstances under which I would genuinely sympathize and understand a man who hadn't slept with another man until middle age. There are genuinely bisexual guys who might have made a commitment to a woman at a young age and who are happy and satisfied in the relationship and have no need to seek same-sex encounters. I've known guys in that position who've come back onto the market only later in life, and who have precious little experience. Great. Bisexual doesn't mean promiscuous, after all.

Where I start to lose respect for men who hide behind this argument, though, is when they're spending all their free time on gay.com or adam4adam or any of the many other hookup sites men use to chat when they're feeling horny. They're not happy in their relationships, especially if they're using secret free time to flirt and send guys like me messages saying they wish I'd take their cherries. That's not commitment, folks. It's not honest, and it's a waste of time if it's not going to result in anything. If a man's cruising other cruisers, flirting with them, and toying around with the idea of losing his virginity for years and years without actually doing anything about it, he's letting fear control his life—fear of being caught, fear of being rejected, fear of disease, fear of being hurt, fear of living.

That's not a life. Postponing satisfaction for years and years when one has the remedy for one's unhappiness—no matter what the weak justification—is no kind of life at all. I don't care what it is you're hankering for, whether it's sex, or a better job, or a love who treats you right. Go after it. Demand the universe give you what you want, and learn to recognize it and treat it well while it's within your grasp. That's the way to life a good life. Not fantasy and needless self-denial.

As for the forty-year-old virgins, I didn't say they were untouchable, or undesirable, or bad people. I didn't say that no one would want them. I've simply found in most cases that I'm not really what they're looking for. And that's okay.

Now, let's get to some questions from formspring.me.

OK..here's my first question on formspring,yea! Anyway, breeder, I'm a fan of yours btw...so..in the 80s, were you a fan of Saturday Morning cartoons?, and if so, name 5 that you really liked, also name a few cereals that you ate that were specifically from those.

Saturday mornings were the best days of the week, when I was a kid; I would be glued to the television set as soon as the bass fishing shows were over at roughly eight, and would stay there with glazed eyes and a long-empty bowl of cereal in my lap until the sports games started in the afternoon.

Most of the shows I remember loving weren't so much animated cartoons, though, but the live-action shows. I loved most of the Sid and Marty Krofft shows like The Bugaloos and Land of the Lost and Sigmund and the Sea Monster, but especially H.R. Pufinstuf. I really, really, really liked Isis, who was like an Egyptian version of Wonder Woman. And I was a fan of a short-lived and really bizarre show called Uncle Croc's Block, which starred Charles Nelson Reilley as a grumpy kid's show host who spoofed other kid's shows. It was very meta, and very very gay.

When it came to cartoons I was a fan of Sabrina the Teenaged Witch and Josie and the Pussycats"(until Josie went to outer space, anyway . . . then it was just silly), as well as The New Scooby-Doo Movies, in which Scooby and the gang solved mysteries with fabulous guest stars like Phyillis Diller and Mama Cass and Cher. It was also very gay.

Probably my favorite cartoons had to be the Warner Brothers Bugs Bunny shorts. I watched them over and over again for years.

The only cereal I remember eating based on a kids' show was the Freakies cereal, which tasted like sugar and was good enough for me. Back when I was a kid I mostly at Cap'n Crunch, or Sugar Pops, until my mother decided they were unhealthy and switched me over to Golden Grahams—which probably had just as much sugar, but at least gave the illusion of being semi-healthy by having graham flour in there somewhere.

Do you believe in gaydar?

I don't believe that people have some mystical ability to spot other gay men, no.

I do believe that there are people who have a heightened observational sense. They are constantly looking at other men and noticing how they hold themselves, what they're wearing, and most importantly, what those other men are observing and where their eyes linger and over whom their eyes skip.

The highly observant person who puts together the little cues that every man gives off when he finds someone of sexual interest has a much better sense of who's interested in same-sex encounters and who's oblivious. That's what gaydar is.

Have you ever gone to someone's house who had a private glory hole? If so, how was your experience?

Many times, yes.

In Michigan I had several buddies with their own private glory hole setups. One had carved a pair of holes in the door of his fruit cellar, and he would sit beneath the steps on a bench in there and suck the men who came into his house and down into the basement for sex. The advantage of the scenario was that he didn't really have to do anything except carve two holes in the door; the disadvantage was that he was stuck in what was essentially a locked closet while a strange man entered his otherwise empty house.

The other man had a more elaborate setup in which he replaced the door between his kitchen and his mud room with a plywood partition that was equipped with hinges that fit where the old door went, and a couple of braces to lock it firm once it was set. The gloryhole was at the perfect height, and he'd set out pillows on the floor for men who wanted to suck him. The advantage of this set-up was that the guy didn't have anyone coming into his house any further than the mud room; the door was also able to be stashed elsewhere when it wasn't being used. The disadvantage was that it took a lot of carpentry skills to set up.

I also occasionally saw a guy whose 'gloryhole' was a bedsheet with a hole cut out of it that he'd hang from hooks in the ceiling. That was lame.

I think my favorite regulars with a home glory hole were a couple who lived out in one of the further-away suburbs near my old home. One was in his late thirties; his boyfriend was in his early twenties. They had cut a large glory hole in the drywall at the back of their coat closet, directly across from their front door. It opened into their kitchen. I would stick my dick through and they'd both go at it, taking turns sucking it and backing up their asses on it, while I held onto the closet rod and let them milk load after load. I could always tell which one was which. The younger partner was a way better fuck.

Have you ever setup a private glory hole in your house or garage?

Nope. But I'd sure consider it if I had a place with the appropriate layout.

What are the differences between spencer, scruffy and the runt in looks and personality that led to your differing feelings for each of them? I hope this is not an out of bounds question thnx.

I'm glad you asked this question, because it made me consider in what respects these three boys were similar.

Most basically, they're all pretty young. I don't deliberately seek out young guys, because age isn't really one of those considerations at the top of my list when I'm looking for a hole to plow. I do get a lot of very young guys hitting on me, though—and all three of these boys were the ones to reach out to me first. Spencer and Scruffy were roughly the same age, though, and Runt is younger.

All three are of a vaguely similar physical type—lean. Spencer is muscular, however, where Scruffy was merely skinny. And both those young men are quite tall, while Runt is quite the opposite.

Spencer and Scruffy both had scruffy faces. Runt's is very smooth.

Spencer has a lot over the other two in talent and smarts, though. He knows everything about everything, and is at the start of a very promising artistic career. Scruffy was sexual, but he wasn't social, and definitely wasn't intellectual; the Runt doesn't talk. He's just there for the dick.

Sexually I've got strong ties to all of them. Intellectually and emotionally, though, Spencer and I were by far the closest.

Did you ever own a deck of tarot cards?

I own one deck of tarot cards—not because I necessarily believe in them as a tool of divination. There's a (lengthy) story behind why I have them.

A very long time ago—I think it was in 1989—I had a friend from work who was very much an avid reader. She was two and a half times my age, Mexican, and dirt poor; I was wet behind the ears, new to Michigan, and poorer than dirt poor. Since reading didn't cost much and we enjoyed each other's company, this co-worker and I would visit hole-in-the-wall bookstores and buy armloads of paperbacks for a dime apiece. We'd read them, then swap.

My friend was very much into science fiction and fantasy novels, which I'd never read; it was because of her that I developed an enduring passion for the genre. One of her very favorite authors was Anne McCaffrey, whose main fame came from the science fiction series The Dragonriders of Pern. I read what books had been written in the series to that point and was equally smitten with them.

At that time McCaffrey had collaborated with an artist, Robin Wood, on an illustrated book of portraits of characters from the novels. We really loved the book. When my friend discovered that Wood lived in the Detroit area, she just looked up her number in the phone book, called her, and invited her out to dinner. She was bold like that.

So we took the artist out to a dinner at a coffee shop that served all kinds of pies, and then after a couple of hours of pie and conversation, Wood invited us back to her home and studio. Who were we to pass that up?

At Wood's home she showed us some of the original sketches for the book, but she also showed us her then-current project, which was a tarot deck she was designing for publication. She went through several of the sketches and finished illustrations and explained to us how she reinterpreted and expanded upon traditional tarot imagery. It was really a fascinating evening.

My friend passed away about three years after that. After she was laid to rest, I was in a bookstore and noticed The Robin Wood Tarot out on the shelves, in final and published form. I bought it was a remembrance of my friend.

It's really a beautiful set of tarot cards, and whenever I look at them, I think about my friend from those years with great fondness, and remember all the fascinating authors and artists to which she introduced me.

More...

[Hotload84]

"Do you believe in gaydar?

I don't believe that people have some mystical ability to spot other gay men, no.

I do believe that there are people who have a heightened observational sense. They are constantly looking at other men and noticing how they hold themselves, what they're wearing, and most importantly, what those other men are observing and where their eyes linger and over whom their eyes skip.

The highly observant person who puts together the little cues that every man gives off when he finds someone of sexual interest has a much better sense of who's interested in same-sex encounters and who's oblivious. That's what gaydar is."

I think you're right, TheBreeder. An astute Gaydar is evidence of a highly observant person. Friends and acquaintances occasionally ask me if an guy is gay, a woman lesbian, or, here in Philly, stoned. I've long since realized I generally have no idea, and that I have no idea because I'm not particularly observant about the nuances of behavior. While in public I scan the landscape to identify threats to my person, and may well casually identify particularly attractive guys, but I don't have sufficient experience to evaluate what are, from my point of view, very indeterminant clues, even recognizing that a more experienced person would find the clues far from subtle.

Edited December 9, 2012 by Hotload84

[TheBreeder]

Hotload, I think all of us notice different things about people. I tend to notice what they're looking at, what they focus on, and where their attention lies—all the things that make up what I think is gaydar. But I honestly couldn't tell you the color of a guy's eyes after a casual conversation, nor could I tell you if he was wearing a wedding ring . . . and those are two things that friends of mine are always astounded that I fail to notice. It's just not what I look for.