Me and the Skinny White War Boy

OK - This is a true story, I really didn't change much, just the names....

Sometime this past winter, I was at the Spotty Dog drinking a cup of coffee with soy milk and one rugulah cookie. Smart, sweet, sensible.

There were a few college kids talking about music or who knows what. They were annoying. I was reading Augusten Borroughs - another one of his memoires of a drunk and drugged up gay Manhattan man who has everything, but is really miserable...

It was Sunday evening, and Hudson gets dead quickly on Sundays.

I look up and I notice, that in one of the book aisles, there's this skinny white boy, around 23, cruising me. HARD cruising me.

I look up and look at him, he doesn't turn away, he keeps looking at me.

He scared me. There was no shame. No toying around with this one...

I start thinking - I'm getting cruised by some twink here at the Spotty Dog? WTF?

The Red Dot - OK, fine....but the Spotty Dog.....who knew?

I go back to reading, he looks away. I look up, he's looking at me again. Shit. He's serious!

It was too weird. Don't these boys know HOW to cruise? Really... You're not supposed to show THAT much interest....

Fine, I thought....let's have some fun with this one.

I finish my bite-sized pastry and close up my stuff.

He heads for the door, and stands outside the window. He lights a cigarette.

I walk out the door, pass him, nod, and say "Hi". He nods back and says "Hi."

He's a scruffy looking white boy, a banged-up, upstate boy. He was disheveled, hair messy, crooked teeth.

Something like this:



I cross over to the south side of Warren. He stays on the north side. I start walking up the block. He follows, a few paces behind, on the north side of Warren.

I look over, he's still looking at me. He's following me.

Now, I'm intrigued, horny, and scared all at the same time. I'm thinking, I'm either going to get a blow job, or I'm going to get robbed. Or, maybe BOTH! Wouldn't THAT be fun! Most sex bores me, but throw in an element of CRIME or danger - and I'm there!

That's what happens when you watch too much John Waters and "Strangers with Candy".


Anyway, skinny 23-year old white boys really are not my "type". I know twinks sell. Twinks sell big time in internet porn. Bel-Ami, Cardinot, you can't go wrong with twinks. It's a huge market, especially in Europe. The Europeans aren't really into the Californian muscle boys. They like little jock Czech boys. I mean, who doesn't?

Everyone loves poor boys with rugged good looks. They always need cash, they're always looking for work. Us, bourgeois urbane gay men are constantly intrigued that for the price of an off-Broadway show we can get these boys to do almost anything.

It's totally possible, even in this country! Forget it if you go to an underdeveloped country. Last year, Miss Priss went to Brazil and made two brothers suck each other off. It's awful and amusing at the same time. It's a total abuse of power and privilege.

Yet, sex acts with family members still pay better than Walmart.

Where was I? Power, privilege, Walmart, Strangers with Candy....oh yes....here we go...

Banged-up boy followed me up Warren Street. I walked all the way to what I call, the "One Ringy-Dingy" Chinese food place.

He followed me into the restaurant, and stood, silently, by the counter next to me.

I handed him a menu and said, "Here, order something, it's on me."

He looked at the menu, and said to the guy, "Sweet and Sour Chicken".

I ordered tofu with steamed vegetables - sauce on the side. Even my Chinese food order seemed gay.

We sat and started talking.

I noticed that his eyes were constantly darting. He was not able to concentrate or focus on me or the conversation. He kept on repeating information.

He has a girlfriend, she has a kid. They live in the basement.

He doesn't have a job. He just came out of the military, he was in Iraq.

He told me about a missile that whizzed by his head, barely missed him.

He has no skills to get a job. He doesn't have a High School degree. He's thinking about applying for a job somewhere in town, at some factory, but he doesn't know. He got the application a couple of weeks ago.

I noticed that his hands were burned and calloused, around the fingers and knuckles, probably the burns from a crack pipe.


Yeah, I thought, I'm NOT taking this one home....NOPE. He doesn't need to know where I live....we're just going to leave it at dinner, and call it a night.

But, you know the drill, folks. He's a hustler. He knows that the queers will pay him $50 or whatever to take his clothes off. Maybe some older queen will pay to suck his dick. That's why the heavy cruising. He knows what he's doing.

But, I didn't think I'd be hustled here in Hudson!! Of all places!

Clutch my pearls!


He finished half of his Chinese food, and was going to save the rest for later. He looked at my unopened container of white rice.

"Do you want that?" he asked me.

"Go for it," I said, and I handed him my rice.

Please, like I was going to eat white rice? Empty carb calories.

He was happy to have the Chinese food to eat, and I was happy that at least I could give him a meal.

But, there you go, folks. That's the war for you. It takes poor kids, chews them up, and spits them back out - no job, on drugs, hustling queers.


Peace, already?