22 ° OITN november 2001 COLUMNS Naked Curimiity by Devxvtis coH'-E-usl/\ :III‘ “tic mti.i " riehdi§‘iI3II¥és;*_W@S£€<1 no. time tin giving jifie “ I ’ j]reIcen‘t‘—]’se_x‘ual Dangerous Liaisons There was no time to work up a jailhouse fantasy. My friend Nathan’s arrest and all the steps that followed flew by like a fast—forward montage of images and sounds. As he waited in the holding cell, he reflected on how he’d got- ten to this place in his life. “It’s not my fault,” he explained to me, later. “I was a victim of circumstances that were beyond my control.” ‘ That’s not entirely true. The way Nathan painted it, he’d been dragged — kicking and screaming — to the park and forced to drop his pants. In reality, too many vodka tonics and a persuasive would-be trick had helped him drop his guard, but he’d dropped his pants of his own free will. There was, indeed, screaming. But only because Nathan tried to zip up his trousers without first tucking away his penis, when confronted by the police officer. Since I don’t drink, I’m not susceptible to the resolve—reducing powers of alcohol. But for nearly a month, one summer in my early twenties, I was prey to something even more insid- ious: my boyfriend Tyrone’s Southern accent. . Born in North Carolina and raised in Houston, words dripped from his tongue in the most luscious lilting tones. No matter what he proposed, I found myself agreeing. That would have been fine, if Tyrone had been suggesting things like going to a movie or playing racquetball. But Tyrone was much more adventurous. At the end of our first date, as we stood outside my apartment door, Tyrone used his Rhett Butler rhetoric to convince me to give him head in the hallway. It was very late. Most of the other tenants were gay. It did- n’t seem like too much of a risk and I kept one hand on the knob of my already-unlocked door, just. in case I needed to head butt him inside to escape notice. ‘ - Our next date doubled the dare. All the residents in Tyrone’s apartment building had access to the roof for sunbathing, parties and similar activities. My thrill-‘seeking beau wanted us to have sex on the roof, in the middle of the day, in full view of everyone who lived on higher floors in the surrounding edifices. . I pondered his pitch, while trying to estimate the number of people who would be able to I watch our matinee performance. One intoxicating, “C’mon, baby,” and my concerns faded like a ‘pair of old jeans. Every day, Tyrone wanted to be bolder than the day before. Friday night, in an alley. Saturday afternoon, in the restroom of a popular brunch spot. Sunday night, on the hood of a car in his uncle’s salvage lot. Every time he insisted that we up the ante, I’d offer a pale protest. But my fears of being discovered or arrested or worse in a bad neighborhood were no match for the call of his drawl. ' When he urged me to join him in trying auto-asphyxia, I knew he’d crossed the line. I enjoyed hanging out with him but I had no intention of hanging myself or helping him do the same — albeit briefly and supposedly under controlled conditions — just to enhance the intensity of our orgasms. Now, when I contemplate my perilous escapades with Tyrone, my foremost thought is, “\What the hell was I thinking?” I wasn’t. That’s the point. And, in hindsight, I’m still blaming the mellifluous promptings of a Dixie danger junkie for getting me in those situations. It’s no different from Nathan claim- ing to be a victim of circumstances beyond his control. My friends Paul and Rich, know better. After having ended a passionless pairing with his partner, Paul has returned to the world of personal ads, chat rooms and bars. Rich is half of a couple with an open relationship so he, too, is looking for action. Paul and Rich understand that safe sex is about more than just wearing a condom. They know that it’s sometimes hard to tell if a guy is nice or if he’s a psycho with a freezer full of former tricks. So, they take precautions. They step back from the big bulge to ‘Iconsider the big picture and assess how much risk is actually involved. They phone each other with information about whedre and with whom they’re going to be and make arrangements for an ‘Tm ok” call, after- war . I ~ They set an example worth following. Be careful. Be safe. poi:enand_u .ge~.it<>f.i.s . [ I exp1’.é.ss_ed;his desire tottfelatenr I _ e I'I'ly good head,” " " vi I m _ . I V g i, : . 3 g , t V I decided to let him demonstrate his advertised I: 7 I Af,ter.ItV Sink? °rtI3IS.IWim9 Lwe expectlh 31“ ‘U know exactllf What We Want v skijib Radian»: take long toldiscgvéf the got I dOn€ taindjvvje ‘hIa,V€eno qua.lmSAabout bitching to arlyone else who’l1 listen, when I Pulled out and told him, “You were5mistaken.” theywcast ,3‘. Vote for wk? a IpI°S~i=tiOInI that rubs us the Wrong Way‘ Aside from bemgramused by my pithy quip’ an M need to communicate with our elected officials. All of us need to give them I did was Create a situation in which Thu“ a clear suggestions and directions about what is important to us and our co1nmu~ m.an’s, feelings. And I passed up an opportunity mty‘ I , I I . . I I for what could have been a good blow job, with If We don t’ moreoften than “.0” they“ just Suck.‘ ‘ a little clear direction and encouragement. I I ,He.Iwas obviously eager to do well,yet, I chose :,officIiIalsL we..iake sIo’meI» time‘ .1 -n—eeIds’ andwe show our _isup“—;, Dennis Scott—Busb has always been curious and is ofien naked. His work appears in publié canons tbrougbout the country. E-mail may be directed to Na/eedCuriosizjv(f1)a0l.com.