When I was a teen, almost everyone knew about the "cruisy" toilets, and closeted gay men wrote messages on walls. Any dude with a Damron could grab a quick blow-job at Sears, and with all that flying semen, it's no wonder that we're all told now to wash our hands after using the bathroom. (Gay bathroom sex was even mentioned in this past week's Mad Men.)
"You just don't see graffiti like that anymore," I admired to myself, wiping & standing, and pulling up my pants. "Bathroom stall artwork is a craft from another era…and these kids today have no idea what life was like before computers, cell phones, and even small pagers."
Cold-cruising 80s-style is a long forgotten art, and that goes for more than just restrooms. I remember a time when sex was abundant, and available in rest stops, public parks, dirty bookstores...and the I-90 Oasis, just after the evening's rush hour. Nowadays, a toilet is just a toilet, rather than a forum for gays to meet & greet, with the ambience of endless possibilities.
I thought about that when I flushed.
As a 44 year old man, I was clearly in the minority; most of the dudes were late teens/early 20s, with photos taken from high school. But gotta' love the gays...even age couldn't stop my "new meat" status, and within 10 minutes, my chat box was full. And as a man who finds intelligence & wit more attractive than looks, I was, indeed, taken by what I found:
"Hey sup dude u wanna fuk?"
You know, It's amazing how conveniences that are meant to bring us closer are often the things that make us feel that much lonelier.
I really should write that on a bathroom wall, sometime.