There aren't a lot of fast food chains close to me. The county in which I live is snooty enough to look down its nose at them and forbid them permits. And for the most part, that's fine—though I really miss the Pei Wei chain. Recently a Chipotle franchise managed to sneak its way in, and so fabled and exotic it was that the residents here spoke of it in hushed tones, as if its burritos had received Michelin stars. Meanwhile I, who'd had too many Chipotle branches nearby when I lived in the Midwest, always thought of Chipotle as that place I might go to if I guess I was parked nearby and my favorite real Mexican restaurant was closed and I didn't feel like driving to Taco Bell.
There is a Boston Market very close to me, though. For those unfamiliar with it, it's just a roasted chicken restaurant that serves a few other things—roasted turkey, meatloaf—along with a lot of traditional side dishes like stuffing, mashed potatoes, green beans, and corn. It's not all that special, but the quality is decent—and a couple of weeks ago, when I was a bachelor here for a few days, I was feeling lazy enough that I didn't want to cook, and didn't want to drive. Boston Market seemed like a good fit. I went in, ordered a plate of something, ate it while I read a book, and went home.
Simple enough, right?
Earlier this week I got on Adam4Adam and found a message from someone there I'd been pursuing for a while. He's handsome man whose schedule doesn't quite mesh with mine, so we mostly exchange brief messages of regret. This time, though, he'd written, Didn't I see you at Boston Market not too long ago?
It turned out that he'd been there when I'd walked in, thought he'd recognized me, but didn't say anything. I, apparently was too set on getting turkey into my belly or on my book to look around and recognize him. I told him that next time he should make an effort to come up and say hello, at least, and then we rekindled our promises to get together at some point.
It was two days later that I got an instant message from a guy on Manhunt. Hey, he said. I think I saw you at Boston Market a while back. After a little questioning I found out that he, too, had been eating his meal at the place when he'd spotted me. Talk about weird coincidences.
Then last night I got another Manhunt message. You look familiar, he said. I think I saw you out and about a couple of weeks ago.
I was totally going to be freaked out if he'd seen me at the same place. I asked him if it was at Boston Market. Nah, he wrote. But it's weird you mention it. I met my ex-bf at that place.
So single guys. Stop hitting the bars, stop trolling online. There's a chicken restaurant near me you should check out. Apparently it's where all the action's happening.
Let's get to some questions that have been accumulating on formspring.me.
Do you think piercings are sexy? Where do you like them best?
The first body piercing I ever saw—other than the standard pierced ears on women—was a P.A. on one of the first dicks that fucked me, back in the mid-nineteen-seventies. Piercings on men were pretty damned exotic then, and not only had I never seen one before, I'd never even conceived it was possible. So I was fascinated by it, for the thirty or so seconds before the guy started ramming it in me.
I still think a P.A. looks hot on a guy.
When other forms of body piercings started to be popular in the nineteen-nineties, I thought they were hot for a while, but they became so commonplace that the novelty wore off. Nipple and scrotal piercings neither turn me on or off; weird ear piercings, bridge piercings, and eyebrow and navel piercings just make me want to dab the person off with a cotton ball and some disinfectant.
However, I am for some reason a sucker for a nasal septum piercing on a man. That's hawt.
Have you ever banged a man whose/wife or kids were in the house in another room? Have you ever been busted at your home by your wife or kids?
In answer to your first question, yes, I have had sex with people who had other household members in nearby rooms.
I've played with men and women both who had sleeping children in other parts of the house, and a few times with couples who'd invite me over after they'd put their children to bed. I've fucked younger guys living with their folks, while their parents were around (typically, upstairs, while we'd screw in the guy's grungy basement 'apartment'). A few times I fucked men in their dens, garages, or basements, while their wives were sleeping upstairs. And a fewer times than that, I did it while their wives were around and knew about it and didn't really care.
I don't get why I keep getting asked if I've been 'busted' or 'caught' at home. It's not like masturbation makes me suddenly deaf to the sound of footsteps in the hallway, for the love of god.
Weirdest place u ever got banged ?
This is like that infamous Newlywed Game question.
"In my left eyeball." (He was aiming for my mouth.)
Have you ever been caught in the act by your spouse or someone else's spouse/partner?
Nope. But I had a couple of close calls. And once I had a guy drag me across the kitchen with me still in his butt when he got a call from his wife mid-fuck telling him she'd be home in ten minutes and asking if he'd taken out the ground beef from the freezer for dinner. He hadn't. That's why he sprinted for the fridge with me in tow.
If, given the opportunity to meet one of your social media friends who you encountered online and with whom have solely had an Internet relationship, would you take it to meet them? If so, who?
I have several times taken relationships that had been online acquaintances into real-life friendships, or one-night stands, or ongoing fuck-buddy relationships.
I think it's preferable simply to knowing someone through their tweets or through an instant messenger, in fact. I'm very glad to be able to know people of so many different backgrounds, and from such diverse parts of the world, thanks to the internet. But there's nothing that beats meeting someone face to face and enjoying them as the whole person.
What's one goal you've set for yourself in 2012?
To get through it without hearing someone slaughter "Bad Romance" at a karaoke bar.