My big fat Greek brunch

Sunday morning I joined my old friends Robert and Richard on one of our many weekend excur- sions to seek out and sample every crusty old diner Seattle has to offer.

This day we made our way on foot across Seattle's University Bridge and then under and a little west to the venerable Voula's Offshore Cafe. Situated on the north shore of the ship canal, this Greek diner was once the site of lunch breaks for Robert (who worked in the neighborhood) and me in the early days of our friendship (circa 1992).

Like any real diner, Voula's serves breakfast all day and is notable for its tasty food and (perhaps) the mural of the canal on its east wall. But don't take my word for it. Voula's was featured on the Food Network's "Diners, Drive-ins, and Dives," which you can watch here:



It was a beautiful day, a nice walk, and a satsifying meal.

Championship weekend

I am not a huge fan of parades, so on Sunday I decided to skip the Vancouver Gay Pride parade and support Mitch while watching his doubles tournament tennis match. He and his partner won the match and decided to do the finals match the same day rather than wait until Monday. I had difficulty keeping score or telling who was winning from my limited vantage point (and inexperience with tennis), but it turned out that Mitch and his partner won the doubles tournament for his category! This delightful outcome persuaded him to go to the awards banquet at our hotel, where we dined handsomely and where Mitch received his trophy. Congratulations Mitch!

Sparks fly

After Mitch got back from his tennis tournament in the evening, we went out for dinner and then returned to the hotel to plan our evening. There was a leather event of some sort at the Pumpjack, and I anticipated a chance to wear my harness and newly purchased chain mail codpiece. But we were both pretty tired, and I had already made a round of the bars alone the night before. So we ended up staying in.

One advantage of that choice was the fireworks competition held over English Bay and the fact that (surprise!) our room on the 14th floor (actually the 13th, but who's counting?) had a view of the show. In fact, we were able to see the entire event through the window while lying in bed! We didn't even have to move out of our comfy spooning position. I must say it was the most relaxing way I've ever watched fireworks in my life.

After the show we simply drifted off to sleep, still snuggling. I haven't been sleeping well the last couple of months, so the long, long sleep we both enjoyed was much appreciated.

Kinky shopping

While my friend and traveling companion in Vancouver spent the afternoon playing in his tennis tournament, I wandered around the gay neighborhood (Davie Street) and did some shopping. The store that occupied most of my attention was Priape, a (gay) men's clothing store that seemed to specialize in swimwear and underwear (in the front) and leather and fetish gear (in the back). I spent a fair amount of time in the dressing room trying on various chain mail gear and trying to get a few photos. I especially liked the jockstrap with a chain mail codpiece as well as the chain mail gladiator sleeve. I ended up buying the jockstrap, but the sleeve was way too expensive (almost $320 and that was a sale price).

Tall tales

Do I really stand out that much?

The other night while dining out, Mitch asked me if I was aware of how everyone looks at me. Huh? No, I told him; with a few exceptions, I am not aware of anyone looking at me at all.

He was surprised. He told me that when we are out together he notices a lot of people looking at me. He said the same thing today over breakfast.

Okay, I am pretty tall. Being six feet, five inches (last time I checked) definitely gets attention. If I get separated from a friend in a crowd, I usually let them find me, since I tend to stand out. But I certainly wasn't aware that I am really drawing attention.

There are exceptions of course. For example, last night's underwear party at Pumpjack had such poor participation that I was one of the few men in the bar who wasn't fully clothed. Naturally people were paying attention then (especially given my provocative undies).

But Mitch (who wasn't even at that party) went so far as to say he felt overshadowed and ignored by other gay men because everyone is looking at me. This saddened me, and reminded me of similar things I had heard from a past partner. But at least Mitch takes it in stride and (so far) feels glad to be with someone who is getting attention.

Me, I don't get it. Okay, I am tall. But I'm 52 years old, hardly the age considered prime. And although I'm proud of the figure I've acquired, my ectomorphic proportions are not those considered sexy in the porn magazines or usual gay stereotypes. Strange.

But hey, I guess I should take it as a compliment. Because of course people also stare at things they consider odd.

This is just one way in which Mitch has been so good for my ego. Another example: He also has been giving me mock scoldings for moving in a way that lifts my shirt to reveal my flat tummy (like in this photo) or unintentionally flexing my arms, getting him hot and bothered. Everyone needs a friend like that to boost the ego now and then.

The miracle of friendship

I met Mitch, my traveling companion on this Vancouver trip, many months ago online. We have chatted a great deal via instant messaging but that's no guarantee the chemistry of friendship would carry over to in-person relating. We got along well on our first and (until this weekend) only meeting in early July. But how would it be to share a long car trip and a hotel room for three nights?

The good news is Mitch and I have gotten along famously from the minute he drove up from Portland and showed up on my doorstep yesterday morning. He is so relaxed and easy to get along with. He's charming, sexy, and has a great sense of humor. It's like I'd known him for a long time.

Of course maybe it's easier to get along with someone when you're both in vacation mode, rather than stressed out by daily life. But I'm not going to analyze things too closely just now. I'm just having a good time and intend to enjoy it.

Mitch wanted to be in Vancouver for a tennis tournament he is participating in, so I have some time to wander around and hang out by myself while he attends to that. (I hope to watch at least one of his competitions this weekend but haven't yet.)

Portland men, pay attention! This is one guy you'd like to meet.

Oh Canada

It's another great summer weekend and a perfect occasion to get away to nearby Vancouver, British Columbia. This is the weekend for Vancouver Gay Pride as well as an international fireworks competition. Time for fun!

Fair play

Sunday was the main reason many of us were in San Francisco last weekend — the Up Your Alley street fair held at Dore Alley and parts of Folsom Street. The day looked to be a cold one, but after the fog burned off, anyone out in the sun for long was plenty warm. I arrived around noon and hadn't been in the fair grounds long when I took off my pants and shirt, leaving only my harness and boots. This was probably the fifth or sixth time I had been naked at this or the Folsom Street Fair events, and I had come to feel more comfortable naked than I would be clothed. And even when I was clothed, people seemed to recognize me and ask with dismay why I was dressed.

Before long I ran into my nudist friend NudePublic, whom I had met at the bar the night before (see my July 29 entry). Acting on a tip from him, I checked the bag holding my clothes at the coat check room of Powerhouse (which lay within the fair grounds). I returned to the street and began to make my way through the crowd up Dore Alley.

Except for a dance area and live band at one end of the fair on Folsom, the event mainly consisted of a series of booths. Unfortunately (with the exception of a whipping demonstration), there was nothing particularly interesting about any of these, the bulk of them consisting of food and beer vendors or information centers for non-profit organizations.

But the crowd is always what makes these events appealing. I strolled through the growing throng to the end of Dore Alley and back, stopping to say hi to people I'd met in years past or at the bar the night before.

The day consisted of some decided friskiness on my part as well as a bite to eat from one of the booths. Later I ran into my friend Andy, with whom I spent much of the rest of the day. He had his best camera with him and enjoyed photographing me.

Although the fair had for me a certain "been there, done that" quality, it was a very good day, and I reveled in dreamy satisfaction during my cab ride back home.

Riding the rails

I arrived home from my trip to the Bay Area yesterday, but have been too busy to post more stories of my SF adventures. But they are on the way. Until then, here's a shot taken by my good friend Andy as we waited for the BART, our principal means of transportation during the weekend.

Bay of prigs

I have no photos with which to document Saturday night's adventures (if you can call them that), as I chose to leave my camera behind. But in getting ready for the Bay of Pigs dance (billed as the "Official Saturday Night Event of Up Your Alley Weekend"), I chose to wear essentially the same outfit as shown in these photos from last May, so they will have to suffice. I just added a leather coat, and I was out the door. I was a little nervous walking to the Mission BART stop in assless chaps, but no one paid any mind. (This is San Francisco after all.) However, with my bare butt I elected to remain standing during the train ride, although I'm not sure if I was more concerned for the sanitation of train seat or my own.

I met Andy in front of his hotel and we walked to the Cat Club, where the dance was held. It was still a bit early, so we checked our bags and went to the legendary Hole in the Wall bar around the corner. I really like that bar, the way it attracts men from every possible segment and subculture of the gay community.

One guy in particular caught my eye. He looked to be mid-thirties, very muscular, multi-racial. He had short-cropped hair and huge muscular arms that were set off nicely by his tight sleeveless muscle shirt. What made me particularly curious was the way he seemed to stare at my crotch, with its rubber codpiece, all the while scowling.

Or so I thought. The next time I ran into him I realized the dim bar light had made me misread his expression. This time he was clearly smiling with approval. I returned the smile. But this Beautiful Muscle Boy (hereafter BMB) seemed to be with someone, so I thought he was unavailable.

Andy and I returned to the Cat Club, where we enjoyed a good stretch of dancing. But other than that, the event offered little. The break rooms upstairs seemed to consist of people sitting around on couches looking bored. The second floor also had a bar, which (for their part) consisted of other people standing around looking bored.

To combat our own boredom, we left the Bay of Pigs dance and braved cold breeze, making our way to the Powerhouse bar, which by this point was very crowded. As I climbed the stairs to the upper level, a hand reached out and touched me to get my attention. I returned the flirtatious gestures, and as I ran my hand down his back I became aware that he was entirely naked, something that the close-pressed crowd kept from being obvious. I thought it quite a coincidence that the first person I met there would be a fellow exhibitionist. Turns out he is online as NudePublic. We chatted briefly, while also kissing and caressing each other. I undid the snaps on my codpiece and freed my cock, letting my new acquaintance stroke and even suck it.

Before long, however, I noticed the arrival of BMB from the Hole in the Wall. "I thought I'd lost you," he said. I excused myself from naked guy while BMB and I found an available corner to get acquainted. Before long we had our shirts off and were kissing and going at it like old lovers. His kissing skills were as good as his amazing body. The crowd enjoyed watching us and paying attention to BMB as well as to my still exposed dick.

Soon enough BMB bent over and began going down on me while admirers caressed his sexy backside. He indicated in conversation that he didn't want me to come in his mouth. So I let him work my cock over a while longer then pulled out and shot my load all over the Powerhouse floor, to the amusement of those circled about.

That was the last I saw of BMB. I don't even remember his name. I only know that he's a resident of San Francisco. Maybe I'll run into him again some time. Stranger things have happened.

I lost track of Andy (who it turned out was having adventures of his own), so I retrieved my stuff from the Cat Club coat check and went home. The dance may not have been much but I was still very satisfied.

Dinner out

Saturday evening I had dinner with an online friend who lives in San Francisco. We dined at Luna Park, where we were lucky to get seated right away. As we were finishing, a waiter brought a large, impressively decorated cake with candles to the table next to us. The cake was also shooting sparks form some sort of roman candle, and the ladies at the party seemed very tickled. After the birthday girl blew out the little candles, the waiter removed the cake. Was he taking it to be sliced? No, it turns out the cake was nothing but a hollow fake. Other waiters soon returned with individual desserts for the women at the party.

Come Saturday morning

Saturday started off at one of my regular breakfast hangouts in San Franscico, Boogaloos. I was joined by my old friend Michael who is always kind enough to host me whenever I visit the Bay area.

After the sun burned off the morning fog, I went for a walk toward the Castro and spent about a half hour sunning in Dolores Park. At first I thought I would lie out in my underwear. Instead I decided just to go for broke and lie under the sun naked, even though I was the only one doing so in a pretty busy park. But hey, it's legal in San Francisco, and I don't like tan lines.

Later in the afternoon, I met my friend Andy in the Castro for a late lunch. We did a little shopping and had an impromptu photo shoot (yes, I was nude) at Worn Out West, a used clothing store. Unfortunately, all the photos are on Andy's camera, and I won't be able to get any copies until we return to Seattle. So I'll have to post some of those at a later date.

Castro and Market

Last night the friend I'm staying with joined me for dinner at Catch, a restaurant near the intersection of Castro and Market, where I took this snapshot.

Undershopping

If it's underwear you want, Injeanious in San Francisco's Castro neighborhood fills the bill nicely. They have jeans and other clothing items, too, but the selection of designer (and sexy) undies is exceptional.

Naturally I took the opportunity to try on and purchase several. And of course, being something of an exhibitionist, I left the curtain to my changing room wide open. It was in the back corner of the store, which wasn't very busy. But a few interested customers and some very helpful sales staff took note. My only regret is that my friend Andy (a talented photographer who is also visiting San Francisco) wasn't there to document it. So I have to settle for these less-than ideal photos taken by others.

I debated whether to make this post friends-only but since there is no full frontal nudity, I decided to grin and bare it. But there will probably be some friends-only posts from this weekend's adventures. At least I hope so!

Precious, precious parking

In the densely populated areas of San Francisco, parking is a scarce commodity. And if you're lucky enough to have a garage, the last thing you want is someone's inept or inconsiderate parking to block your way. The owner of this garage makes that point with delightful eloquence. By the way, when I took this photo, a car was parked so as to block the driveway completely. C'est la guerre.