I think I’m missing the cruising gene: I don’t have any problem chatting to guys or approaching them in a club after the required number of vodka and cokes, but the whole language of cruising for gay sex is one I’m not fluent in. I don’t necessarily see that as an issue, but there are some missed opportunities I look back upon and wonder what might have been. Is it a courage thing, something you have to learn, or just the way some guys are?
I got cruised in a station toilet the other day by a young, quite nice looking guy. It was one of those big, underground, public toilets where you have to go down a few flights of stairs. It wasn’t until the bottom, past the basins and driers, that I realised someone was on my tail and I got a sense that they might have a different motive to most of the guys in there. This is the part where I am sensitive to the subtle signs and behaviours, that first lock-on. After that, the signals become less clear to me and doubt sets in – am I imagining things?
I don’t want any cheeky peeking at the urinals today, thanks, so I head for a cubicle. The guy continues to follow until I duck into an empty one and as I close the door I get a brief glimpse of him passing – I was surprised to see a young guy, 20/21 I would guess. Of course he goes into the one next to me. All sorts of thoughts go through my mind as i pee, before my conclusion tips back to over-active imaginings. Then his cubicle door clunks open anyway, so I must have been imagining things.
I go to wash my hands and the guy is already drying his. I steal a longer glance at him and he has shaggy black hair, slightly student look, plainly dressed, not my first idea of a toilet prowler. When he restarts the dryer for a second, then third time and he’s still stood there when I move next to him, I think to myself that nobody needs to dry their hands for that long. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I see him look round at me and he keeps his head turned in my direction, but I don’t look back. I finish drying and leave him to the only blow job he was gonna get that afternoon – I’m not in the market for a cubicle quickie. I still wasn’t 100% convinced, however, and wonder how it would have run if I’d responded to him.
An expert gay sex cruiser would have already been wiping the cum from their lips by the time I was at the hand dryer, but I don’t think I’d ever be confident enought that I had correctly read the sitution, if shagging a stranger in a public place was something I wanted. I can think back to my younger days, fresh on the gay scene, when guys would approach me in nightclub bathrooms and ask me if I had the time – I would just check my watch and move on.
I genuinely think there is so much cruising going on all the time: gay guys, straight guys, bi guys, curious guys, either wanting a quick fuck or just happy to dip their toe into something risky and alternative, when a reciprocal glance is enough. I think for me, the ‘you’ve caught my eye, I’ve caught your eye – BAM! – let’s fuck’ thing misses out the whole interesting middle bit, the ambiguity. I like the playful start of getting to know someone, the teasing glances, the subtle flirting, the buzz of something new, the fun of playing with the image you project and the unconfirmed promise of gay sex at the end of it. Now, that’s a language I can speak.
Cruise control
I got cruised in a station toilet the other day by a young, quite nice looking guy. It was one of those big, underground, public toilets where you have to go down a few flights of stairs. It wasn’t until the bottom, past the basins and driers, that I realised someone was on my tail and I got a sense that they might have a different motive to most of the guys in there. This is the part where I am sensitive to the subtle signs and behaviours, that first lock-on. After that, the signals become less clear to me and doubt sets in – am I imagining things?
I don’t want any cheeky peeking at the urinals today, thanks, so I head for a cubicle. The guy continues to follow until I duck into an empty one and as I close the door I get a brief glimpse of him passing – I was surprised to see a young guy, 20/21 I would guess. Of course he goes into the one next to me. All sorts of thoughts go through my mind as i pee, before my conclusion tips back to over-active imaginings. Then his cubicle door clunks open anyway, so I must have been imagining things.
I go to wash my hands and the guy is already drying his. I steal a longer glance at him and he has shaggy black hair, slightly student look, plainly dressed, not my first idea of a toilet prowler. When he restarts the dryer for a second, then third time and he’s still stood there when I move next to him, I think to myself that nobody needs to dry their hands for that long. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I see him look round at me and he keeps his head turned in my direction, but I don’t look back. I finish drying and leave him to the only blow job he was gonna get that afternoon – I’m not in the market for a cubicle quickie. I still wasn’t 100% convinced, however, and wonder how it would have run if I’d responded to him.
An expert gay sex cruiser would have already been wiping the cum from their lips by the time I was at the hand dryer, but I don’t think I’d ever be confident enought that I had correctly read the sitution, if shagging a stranger in a public place was something I wanted. I can think back to my younger days, fresh on the gay scene, when guys would approach me in nightclub bathrooms and ask me if I had the time – I would just check my watch and move on.
I genuinely think there is so much cruising going on all the time: gay guys, straight guys, bi guys, curious guys, either wanting a quick fuck or just happy to dip their toe into something risky and alternative, when a reciprocal glance is enough. I think for me, the ‘you’ve caught my eye, I’ve caught your eye – BAM! – let’s fuck’ thing misses out the whole interesting middle bit, the ambiguity. I like the playful start of getting to know someone, the teasing glances, the subtle flirting, the buzz of something new, the fun of playing with the image you project and the unconfirmed promise of gay sex at the end of it. Now, that’s a language I can speak.