don't u ever get tired of Wheaties?David, my only boyfriend, now gone eight years, once asked early in our relationship . . . not really . . . he preferred the variety pack, in both men and cereal and by the time we went our separate ways so did i . . . here's my theory: if u only have had sex with one person, the person u "love," monogamy might be possible, but once u have tried the variety pack, u inevitably begin seeking the thrill of the new . . . and don't pretend u don't know what i mean: is there any more powerful--or fleeting--aphrodisiac than the desire of a hot man when he cruises u for the first time? . . . that's why i'm highly skeptical of gay marriage, particularly for men who have moved to New York and other urban areas to escape the oppressive conformity and boredom of their pasts . . . yet most of us arrive in these sexual candy stores believing that it is here we will find the guy who will complete us--along with our fame and fortune--because we have been so thoroughly brainwashed by breeder propaganda . . . don't get me wrong, some of my best friends are heterosexual, and i believe that the institution of marriage is good for (some of) them and for society, but c'mon guys why buy a cow when milk is so cheap? . . . can't we develop our own relationship models? . . . i may still love u tomorrow, but that doesn't mean i always will want to have sex with u and i'm conservative enough to believe that monogamy, not legal benefits, should be the goal of marriage . . . besides, did ya know that if u get hitched in Vermont, u have to live there for six months to dissolve the union?

REFLECTION: one of my partnered housemates recently took me aside and asked, in a conspiratorial fashion, what does it mean when u have the best sex u ever have had? . . . i didn't know exactly how to answer his question (what am i, the house sex guru?), although i almost have given up believing that extraordinary sex signifies anything other than great chemistry in the right place at the right time . . . how many times have u had it? he persisted . . . let me check my date book on that one and i'll get back to u (call me crazy but i mark an "X" whenever i have sex--just like i mark an "S" whenever i swim or an "R" whenever i run--and if the sex is exceptional i add an exclamation point! . . . maybe my hardwiring isn't so different from those couch jocks obsessed with sports statistics, except for the degree of narcissism) . . . i did recognize my housemate's confusion however . . . doesn't it MEAN something when u connect with somebody on a completely physical level? . . . not long ago, i crossed paths with a guy wearing Burberry bathing trunks in the Meatrack and within minutes we were having exclamation point sex in my book . . . can we repeat this if we see each other again or is it better played back in my mind as a masturbatory fantasy when i'm 65? . . . i fear the exclamation points will become indistinguishable . . . less truly can be more which leads me to my theory of why gay marriage is like chasing rainbows.

looking for sex has always been about more than physical gratification for me because often i am rewarded with an amusing or provocative anecdote . . . in the Meatrack over the weekend i came upon a slim black man in a lime green box cut bathing suit . . . he had cornrows and braids, the kind u rarely see in a place where African Americans are no more plentiful than raisins in rice pudding . . . we hooked up and when he pulled a condom out of his fanny pack, i noticed the packaging was unlike your standard Trojan and after he unwrapped the foil, i saw that the latex was as dark as his skin . . . he said i do all the work, mon after some pretty good sex . . . and then Aloe (yes, like the plant) asked me if i wanted to join him on his blanket for a slice of watermelon. . . sugar baby watermelon , he added, very sweet . . . how is a politically correct slut supposed to react to such an offer? . . . because he was Jamaican i knew he probably never had suffered the indignity of the stereotype . . . i declined, mostly because experience has taught me to separate the Meatrack from the rest of my life but was giggling all the way back home and telling my housemates the story racist? . . . M, my culturally clueless French housemate, later admitted he didn't even understand what everyone found so funny until he came across an article in the current issue of Gourmet entitled "Pride and Prejudice" . . . sometimes watching what you eat has nothing to do with your waistline teased the subhead . . . the black author described the torture she put herself through before eating watermelon in public for the first time . . . American hang ups do make eating and sex far more complicated than they should be . . . . and i haven't even touched the topic of cock size . . . just let it be said that if Aloe had conformed to that particular stereotype, i would not have allowed him to stick his thing where the sun don't shine!

IDIOSYNCRACY: what is it about bad boys? . . . as early as grade school i wanted to be kidnapped by one . . . my fantasy didn't get more specific until high school in El Paso when i was assigned to a gym class with Gary . . . James Dean could have taken lessons in delinquency from him . . . for months, i'd been getting to school early, so i could watch him smear his girlfriend's lipstick as they kissed hungrily in his car . . . i couldn't decide if i was more thrilled or terrified when i first noticed him, barechested, leaning against a locker and yawning insolently while some phys ed teacher told us what we were going to be doing out on the hot playing field . . . by this time i knew exactly what i wanted to be doing: licking his smooth chest while he smoked a cigarette . . . just my luck, Gary dropped out a day or two later . . . i never saw him again but rumor had it that he'd passed a gang initiation rite by swimming across a sewage pit . . . ever the pragmatist, i kept my stalking all in the family and quickly developed a crush on his younger brother, Steve, whose girlfriend lived on my block beneath the Franklin Mountains . . . after my father left for work in the mornings, i'd get out his binoculars and watch Steve pick up Sara . . . little did my sleeping mother know that she had given birth to a voyeur . . . years later, i heard they'd found Steve buried in a shallow grave in the desert, with both his eyes poked out . . . a drug deal gone bad? . . . why can't nice guys do it for me? . . . you think you can save them from themselves,A, a good friend, once accused.

is there a statute of limitations on casual sex? . . . u know how it is . . . when u go to the same place often enough, u are bound to run into somebody u did it with years ago . . . does he remember me? why didn't we ever do it again? . . . it happened yesterday, in the Meatrack . . . i recognized the guy immediately from Jones Beach, parking lot # 6, circa 1985 . . . who could forget a Robert Mitchum lookalike with a huge dick wearing nothing but a captain's hat? . . . he'd gotten a lot thicker and he couldn't seem to get hard but all the cocksuckers stampeded in his direction whenever he appeared, naked except for sandals and carrying a pair of Alfani underwear, on one of the well-trod paths . . . his heavy-lidded eyes refused to make eye contact with mine until i groped myself through a pair of black nylon running shorts . . . does he remember me? . . . when i revealed my uncut erection, he motioned for me to follow him into a more private area . . . oh yeah, now i remember, he's the one who refused to go beyond mutual masturbation . . . some things never change, they just get softer . . . and older

INDIGLOWED@AOL.COM dropped by the other night . . . even after swapping JPGs on-line and a lengthy pre-interview by phone, u never know exactly what will be walking through your door . . . although Robert's vital statistics matched up well with his profile and he was every inch the 6' 3" chorus boy he described himself to be (i'm doing Bobby in a national tour ofA Chorus Line), his entrance lacked the drama of his black and white photograph which pictured him leaping across a terrace with the Manhattan skyline as a backdrop . . . our phone conversation had depleted my chit chat reserve, so we got right down to business . . . do you have any poppers? he asked as soon as i began lubricating his ass . . . no . . . i do he said and jumped from the bed to get them, proving that he really could fly through the air when properly motivated . . . i fucked him on auto pilot wondering if he deliberately hadn't mentioned he was a red head until he shot his wad a few minutes later . . . although he wasn't one of those inconsiderate guys who comes and leaves i finally had to tell him orgasm was not going to be a part of my performance . . . come and see me at the Paper Mill Playhouse in August . . . i guess that's one way to build an audience: trick by trick.