The Parting of the Yellow Sea

Like Moses and his parting of the "Yellow" Sea, this past Saturday was time for me to separate myself from the promoter of a piss event, to bring his tumultuous party to an end and allow him to lead his flock to the promised land of another Borough. But things don't always go according to plan...

Of all the promoters, he's the one who acts like he's doing me a favor by having his parties here. When in reality, who wants people pissing all over their space? He's lucky to have found a place that's so accommodating!

Two months ago (at his last party) I said that we could not longer use the washer and dryer in the building for cleaning towels. I mean, what tenants want to put their kids' clothes in a washer or dryer that had sex party rags thrown into it? A stray condom even.
No, it was time to use a public laundromat.
But what would happen if we ran out of bath towels at 2:00am?
That was unacceptable to him!
And using paper towels was not an option.
He "wasn't given enough notice" so that he could bring more towels of his own. He insisted that he be able to use the washer and dryer one last time. (I already had about 70 clean towels ready to go.)
He said that he wrote in his advertisement to the members that towels were available and if they ran out and didn't have any, the guys wouldn't come back.

My response: NO! You can't use it! Period. End of discussion.
So, was there a 24 hour laundromat he could use?
Eventually we figured that to be our solution -- to drive a half mile if we ran out of towels.
Funny thing is, we never did.

This wasn't the first time he demanded things be his way, rather than give into the demands of the person who owns the space (not me).
He also wanted to serve liquor, which was getting guys really wasted and throwing up in garbage cans. He laughed it off as "boys will be boys," ignoring the liability of having drunks at the space. And then he continued bringing the liquor anyway saying that he wanted to finish off the supply that he had. He refused to obey the rules.
Why was he even still here?
(He stopped serving liquor.)

And he doesn't like having to clean up the space, which requires hosing down with soap and water, then sqeegeeing it to the drains. Instead, he prefers that the original (older) piss party guys schedule their parties after his and let them hose the place down -- for his party too! The nerve! Such entitlement issues.

I could overlook all the things that rub me the wrong way if he was at least a nice guy who could understand an opposing viewpoint, rather than always forcing his agenda at a place that isn't even his. His attitude was all wrong -- this is a team effort, not a party of one. We work together.

Dare I say -- it's not all about him! We don't need his party here, especially after the recent text he left:

"Ugh. Ok."

That was his response when I reminded him the washer and dryer were still not available (he tends to "forget" rules) and that he should bring extra towels.
It was the "ugh" that bothered me. I could hear his saying it. As if he was being put out once again. That he had to deal with yet another set back.

So as I set up the space before he arrived, I kept imagining how our conversation would go... how I would tell him I didn't want him to do parties here anymore and that this would be the last one.

The funny thing is, as soon as he arrived, he was an angel! And the extra towels I had purchased and washed (now totaling 104!) were more that enough -- not even half were used!

I even told him about my plans to end his party and he was aghast and said "You're joking, right?" No, I wasn't.
I shared my feelings about his views of the space and strangely it felt as though a healing was taking place. The parting yellow sea walls were gently coming back together without destroying the enemy.

But... it was a new party, so there had to be one last issue to complain about --
the sound system.

It wasn't working properly for his DJ -- who needed a speaker moved closer to him so he could mix the CDs, throwing off the balance of the other speaker. He wanted it moved.
So at his request I reluctantly unscrewed a permanently installed speaker and moved it to another location, so a small room in the back could get music.

When he realized it was better where it was before, and it had to be re-installed to its original spot, all I could do was laugh and say, "That's why I had it there to begin with."

Maybe now I'll start building an arc!

The Doctor is IN (your ass with a Q-tip)

This past weekend seemed to mark a new chapter in hosting sex parties for me: the addition of a legitimate hospital-affiliated doctor on hand to test people for HIV and other STDs. The good news is that a lot of people were interested and wanted testing, the bad news was that the sexy Greek doctor (with able-bodied hot assistant) had limited resources and time, so we had to turn away several people who wanted the free testing. But the doctor will return and I suggested people leave their name on a list next time they arrive, so they can be accommodated.

Being that these get-togethers happen in a private residence, it didn't initially seem a natural fit to bring in someone so official; this is a household, not a commercial space. The doctor had been in touch with me years earlier, but I wasn't interested -- not wanting someone taking up party space and making people feel awkward. And what a sexual buzz kill: to just find out you're HIV positive -- Wheee! (In reality, most people get tested on their way out.)

But the more adamant I became about safe sex and HIV prevention -- with my "zero tolerance for barebacking" and kicking people out if they're caught, with announcements reminding them of the policy -- I realized the doctor and I had similar goals: encouraging safe sex and preventing people from getting HIV.
We even had a dinner a few months ago to discuss matters (which included a delicious bottle of sake)!

So I cleared out an alcove adjacent to the residential space's outside door (which meant we had to haul a car engine to the landlord's home upstate, requiring we build a ramp just to get it into his SUV!) A curtain was drawn back, a light was installed and a table and chair were put in place. With the alcove cleared and everything set in place, the doctor (+1) and his 8 1/2 x 11" black and white signs promoting "free testing" were visible to everyone as they came in or left the building. It was as if I had created a home for a psychic or tarot card reader: ready to predict someone's sexual destiny (via lab results). The stage was set.

But the occult alcove was not where the testing/questions were to take place. I got permission from the landlord for the doctor and his assistant to use another area of the building for taking blood and doing all the paperwork that the process requires, depending on how much the patient wants to do. And if necessary, have the ability to do one person in a kitchen area as another was finishing up his testing in the relatively spacious bathroom (which ended up happening.)

It felt right, though, that I should be the first person to be tested, sort of the guinea pig for the location, so I could let all the other guys know what it was like and what the options were. And that it was a positive, convenient and valuable service for us to have.

So I filled out the forms, gave blood, pissed in a cup, had my mouth swabbed and last but certainly not least, two separate Q-tips up my ass for some cultures (not pleasant, but certainly smaller in diameter than something that was up there later in the evening.) The doctor also asked questions about my sexual activity, mostly in the last 90 days -- like how many partners I had, what we did and things like that.

At the end of my testing and questioning (about 25 minutes later) it was revealed that I was indeed still HIV negative. (Yay! I'm glad I use condoms for fucking!) And that the remainder of the test results would come back in about 10 days, via a secured email link.

So I went to the party space downstairs and made an announcement -- letting the guys know the tests were free and confidential (you have to give your name) and not anonymous (where you'd be assigned a number.) Sure enough the boys responded enthusiastically, keeping the doctor busy for the remainder of the evening.

As it ended up, he'll be back in one month (this is not a one-shot deal -- this is ongoing) for our next party, unless some of the other promoters want him for their events. All in all, I feel it was a great success and a step in the right direction on how a safe party should be run: testing plus monitoring for safe behavior. How cool is that? It's like we're watching out for each others' health and safety.

And on that note, let me share a quick anecdote a regular patron shared with me on Saturday night after he got tested by the doctor.
He always uses condoms for fucking. Always. And he also has a weakness for hairy asses. About a year ago he was playing with a bottom who was insisting he not use a condom (at MY space, the nerve!) The condom was in reach, but the bottom was persistent and that hairy ass really spoke to my friend in ways that only a hairy ass can. So in the fog of desire he decided to bareback the guy, something he hadn't done in decades. It was that tempting. The hairy ass was worth the risk. And just as he was about to penetrate the pernicious bottom, yours truly showed up on the scene and said, "You're gonna use a condom to do that, right?" completely breaking the mood and snapping him back into reality. The urge to bareback had left and he continued on with the hairy-assed man, using a condom as I had insisted.

And for interrupting him as I did, a year or so later, he thanked me.
And said I saved his life.

Over dramatic?
Maybe.
But it certainly made me feel I'm doing something right!