So, yesterday was my birthday. I turned 57. In numerology you add the five with the seven and get twelve. Then you add the one and the two and get three. I have no idea what that means. But as School House Rock taught us: three, is the magic number!
So, that picture of me above is from 1998*. That was a period when I was over Los Angeles and the whole Hollywood thing. So I moved back to Boston, which still had a few gay bars: before Grindr came along and destroyed a lifestyle. It was at one of these bars, The Ramrod, that I met this guy named Tom. He was a photographer. He asked me if I would pose for him. He must've assumed I was into the leather scene, as The Ramrod was a leather bar.
Originally called "Herbie's Ramrod Room," then later shortened to simply Ramrod, it was Boston's "go to" fetish bar.
Originally called "Herbie's Ramrod Room," then later shortened to simply Ramrod, it was Boston's "go to" fetish bar.
Free buffet! I wonder what was on the menu. So, when I first went there in the mid 80's, the ads went from slave dungeon (I don't think I ever saw anyone on a leash there...and I was there quite a bit) to more Tom of Finland does Beantown:
I was never really "into" leather. Oh, I had a biker jacket and boots and leather pants and would sometimes wear those items; but as far as being erotically aroused by cowhide and/or getting a boner over being tied up and/or mildly beaten or doing same to another person...not so much. Okay, I guess we're going to go into some TMI territory here. This blog is turning into something of a confessional.
Hey guys!
Please be advised that further perusal of this blog may contain information you may not want to be privy to. Although I won't be showing you pictures of my asshole, I may be talking out of it. Or, if you'd like me to recreate the Mapplethorpe "bull whip" photo; be sure to hit the "like" button!
So, anyways...I'm pretty vanilla. That's not to say I haven't had my kinky moments. We all have! Why do people seem to think that people who have "kinks" are often assumed to be into "scat?" You know, I've been around. I've dipped my toes into the water. But not once did I ever meet a guy who was into poop. In any shape, form or fashion. Now, you would think that sometime between 1981 and 1999 someone in the gay community would've brought it up. Perhaps suggested it. Just one. But no. Pee-pee? Sure! Poo-poo? No! I mean, with Golden Showers you're not going to get a lot of variety. Warm yellow liquid, generally. But #2? Like Forrest Gump said: "Number two is like a box of chocolates...you never know what you're going to get."
Hey guys!
Please be advised that further perusal of this blog may contain information you may not want to be privy to. Although I won't be showing you pictures of my asshole, I may be talking out of it. Or, if you'd like me to recreate the Mapplethorpe "bull whip" photo; be sure to hit the "like" button!
So, anyways...I'm pretty vanilla. That's not to say I haven't had my kinky moments. We all have! Why do people seem to think that people who have "kinks" are often assumed to be into "scat?" You know, I've been around. I've dipped my toes into the water. But not once did I ever meet a guy who was into poop. In any shape, form or fashion. Now, you would think that sometime between 1981 and 1999 someone in the gay community would've brought it up. Perhaps suggested it. Just one. But no. Pee-pee? Sure! Poo-poo? No! I mean, with Golden Showers you're not going to get a lot of variety. Warm yellow liquid, generally. But #2? Like Forrest Gump said: "Number two is like a box of chocolates...you never know what you're going to get."
Anyways, enough of this poop talk.
So, the reason I was in a leather bar was not so much that I was into leather; but rather, I was kind of into guys that were into leather…if that makes sense. The leather bars seemed to me to be friendlier. Sure, you might think that gay leather men are all tough and imposing; thin lipped and cruel…like the dudes in Cruising. But no; it’s kind of the exact opposite. People who embrace their kinky side, who “let their freak flags fly,” so to speak; are usually way more accepting of other people. Usually, gay bars (are they even a thing anymore?) were full of men who were there to be looked at or being cliquey and/or stand-offish. Frankly, the atmosphere at some gay places could be downright hostile. So, that’s why I preferred the leather bars. The Ramrod had a Thursday night event where a part of the bar was cordoned off and you couldn’t enter unless you had on leather or took your shirt off. So most of the men were shirtless. And in close quarters, there would be a lot of skin touching skin. That to me was more erotic than any piece of leather. However, I have been wanting a quirt for some time. And/or a riding crop. They're both good for precision work. Have I ever used one? Well, I'm not one to squirm and tell; but I have been informed by those in the know that they can be very...oh, what the word? Invigorating?
So, the reason I was in a leather bar was not so much that I was into leather; but rather, I was kind of into guys that were into leather…if that makes sense. The leather bars seemed to me to be friendlier. Sure, you might think that gay leather men are all tough and imposing; thin lipped and cruel…like the dudes in Cruising. But no; it’s kind of the exact opposite. People who embrace their kinky side, who “let their freak flags fly,” so to speak; are usually way more accepting of other people. Usually, gay bars (are they even a thing anymore?) were full of men who were there to be looked at or being cliquey and/or stand-offish. Frankly, the atmosphere at some gay places could be downright hostile. So, that’s why I preferred the leather bars. The Ramrod had a Thursday night event where a part of the bar was cordoned off and you couldn’t enter unless you had on leather or took your shirt off. So most of the men were shirtless. And in close quarters, there would be a lot of skin touching skin. That to me was more erotic than any piece of leather. However, I have been wanting a quirt for some time. And/or a riding crop. They're both good for precision work. Have I ever used one? Well, I'm not one to squirm and tell; but I have been informed by those in the know that they can be very...oh, what the word? Invigorating?
So, in any event, Tom takes a series of photos of me in and out of leather. Spring progresses into summer. I'm not sure if I signed a model release; but I must've...because one night, in late summer of that year, I go to the Ramrod and what is the first thing I see when I walk in? That very picture of me, blown up to gargantuan proportions (it must've been a good ten feet wide by twenty feet tall) and hung above the bar. I was kind of in shock. I had no idea that Tom was going to do that. He never asked me for my permission. I wasn't paid. But there I was, in billboardian proportions. I do not have photographic proof of this. It was right before smart phone cameras became ubiquitous. I never went back to take a picture of it with a regular camera, as I ended up going back to Los Angeles. I only saw it the one time. I remember being slightly embarrassed: for as "phallic" as my thumbs look; I couldn't help thinking I looked like the Fonz doing his "Aaaayyyyyy!" thing on Happy Days. Sometimes I wonder if I dreamed this; but I didn't. It really happened! I was a Ramrod leather daddy...and I don't have the pictures to prove it!
Over the years the place expanded. Where you can see the first green awning, above, was the main entrance. The bar ran from the street all the way to the back of the building. Then, they acquired the building next door, broke through the wall and opened up that space. Then, they went down into the basement and opened a nightclub called "Machine," which was quite popular for a while. But now it's all gone. All of it. Gutted. Some kind of mixed use high-rise went up. In fact, there are high rises rising along Boylston Street all over the place now. Back in the day, there was nothing higher than four stories or so.
So, remember that time when I set out to become the world's oldest male prostitute in my mid-20's? If not, please see my blog The World's Oldest Profession and Moi for some background. So, now that I am, at 57, actually considered old; I was thinking I should throw caution to the wind and introduce the world to "Daddy Chris." Not "Zaddy Chris" (Mr. Meloni has a lock on that); just Daddy. See, Daddy Chris, like Macho Chris, is one of my alter egos: like the way Yosemite Sam might be a cowboy or a pirate or a knight and so on.
So, remember that time when I set out to become the world's oldest male prostitute in my mid-20's? If not, please see my blog The World's Oldest Profession and Moi for some background. So, now that I am, at 57, actually considered old; I was thinking I should throw caution to the wind and introduce the world to "Daddy Chris." Not "Zaddy Chris" (Mr. Meloni has a lock on that); just Daddy. See, Daddy Chris, like Macho Chris, is one of my alter egos: like the way Yosemite Sam might be a cowboy or a pirate or a knight and so on.
I suppose I should say that "Daddy Chris" is going to be a new alter ego (that sounds so pretentious! How about "character"? Yeah, let's go with that). You see, Macho Chris is kind of loud and boisterous; but Daddy Chris, it seems to me, needs to be cool. Or chill. Like, chill to the point where he might be on Quaaludes. His voice barely rises above a whisper. He sometimes mumbles. Maybe you can't quite make out what he's saying; but be assured, it will be reassuring. Maybe he'll be sort of ASMR. He says things like: "Yeah, let Daddy Chris show you how to do a squat the right way..." Maybe he'll have work out videos! Maybe I should look into OnlyFans for Daddy Chris. I mean, Daddy Chris will be naughty and super-suggestive; within limits. He will not be triple XXX. Maybe what they used to call "soft core." Maybe NC-17 or NC-18 to be safe. Yeah, my husband is cool with Daddy Chris...even if Daddy Chris is niche. Like so niche, he's only into like one thing. Like the only thing Daddy Chris will let you see is his BOBB (if you have to ask, you don't want to see it).
Maybe Daddy Chris will be more like one of those dudes who you can't quite make out what they are or what they're into. Kind of like a gay?-leather-long-haired-musician?-hippie-will probably love the one they're with no matter who they're with...? You know that type...
Wanna see my new shag rug?
My name is Autumn...who's "Jake"?
Don't bogart the milk, dude!
*So, that picture is an nth generation of the original. The original was not all Lichtensteiny Ben-Day dots. I wonder if that massive poster of me still exists...or the rest of the photos. I'll have to see if I can track down Tom the photographer; which I probably can't. Isn't it funny, when time goes by, and you find yourself a detective in your own life?
CFR 12/22/22
*So, that picture is an nth generation of the original. The original was not all Lichtensteiny Ben-Day dots. I wonder if that massive poster of me still exists...or the rest of the photos. I'll have to see if I can track down Tom the photographer; which I probably can't. Isn't it funny, when time goes by, and you find yourself a detective in your own life?
CFR 12/22/22
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