XLI. The Guy Whom I Met In A Bathhouse (Part I)

“I can’t take another night on my own, need another body here to keep warm”

– L Devine –

I consider myself to be extremely fortunate to live in times when LGBTQ+ community is becoming more accepted in our society. But don’t get me wrong… I’m completely aware that we still have a long way to go in terms of universalizing equal rights for the members of the aforementioned community. When I originally started this blog, I only intended to use it as a platform to document my journey of self-discovery. However, as more people have visited the blog (lol I love to pretend that I have gazillion readers), a few people came up to me saying how they were entertained by my misadventures and found my stories relatable. More importantly, they were also excited for more representation in queer literature and some had encouraged me to turn this crazy project of mine into something bigger. I guess I just want to thank you all for being the most supportive readers and I’m forever grateful for the love, even though I’m completely aware of the lack of my writing consistency. Oh, and thank you for giving me more incentive to continue doing the nasty!

Some of you might have never heard of a gay bathhouse before. Well… consider yourself lucky! Contrary to its name, people rarely go to bathhouses to take a bath (I mean, you can get bathed in different kinds of liquid but I’ll spare you the gross imagery). Before dating apps like Grindr and Tinder were available for filthy gays to find some ding dong tralalas to play with, bathhouses were the safe havens for homosexual men to get down and dirty meet each other in the state they were born in, naked. Although the facilities that these bathhouses provide differ, people enter with a single mindset: you come in, get naked, and well… you know the rest. You can pay approximately $20 to get access to all of the amenities provided, ranging from a dark room filled with glory holes to a room with a leather swing. Sounds fun, huh? But let’s just say that hygiene isn’t the most prominent feature in these establishments.

One lonely night, I decided to tap into my primitive human psyche and explore the land promised to be filled with wondrous amount of penises in various shapes and sizes. I put all my faith in Yelp (yes, I’m a self-proclaimed Yelp queen) to decide the course of my sexual adventure and after some careful deliberations, I decided to visit one of the bathhouses in West Hollywood that didn’t have any mention of “feces” in the reviews. Some of you might ask me, “What about your favorite networking app? Isn’t that a cheaper way for you to degrade yourself yet again?” Well… first of all, this is a safe space and I do not tolerate slut-shaming, so fuck your judgment. Second of all, I was of legal age and, contrary to popular belief, had a fully developed brain to consciously indulge in such risky activity. I appreciate the concern you all might have, but in all honesty, this bitch was horny and curious so I thought, “hey, why not?”

By now we all know that self-control isn’t my forté

If it wasn’t for my extensive research on Google, I wouldn’t be able to figure out the entrance to the bathhouse as the place, understandably, kept their existence extremely discreet. I remember walking from my car to the entrance door as fast as humanly possible because I didn’t want people to see me entering an indecent spot. Don’t get me wrong… I don’t judge those of you who are frequent visitors to these bathhouses, but I was 19 at the time and I was weirdly obsessed with portraying my innocence (in retrospect, who did I think I was fooling?) Once I entered the main entrance door, I was greeted by the receptionist who appeared to be stoned AF. He informed me about the nook and cranny of the bathhouse, including the 50% discount on the entrance fee for the gentlemen under 25 years old. I thought, “is this how girls feel like when they’re getting into a nightclub?” Yes, I was a bit skeptical about the discount, but I am, first and foremost, Asian and we never say no to a good deal.

And with a single button press, the receptionist opened the door for me to enter the concrete jungle where wet dreams were made of.

I took a glance at my surrounding and I was slightly disappointed that I could count the number of guys in the establishment with my two hands. I didn’t, however, let the low number of available dicks discouraged me to experience what the older gays had to go through to discreetly network with their fellow penis aficionados. As I was stripping down my clothes in the locker room, I noticed how the bathhouse was dimly-lit to, understandably, mask the appearance of the patrons walking around with a small towel wrapped around their waist to hide their last remaining dignity. I also noticed the stares I received from the guys there were significantly more intense than the ones I got in a Korean spa. If there’s one thing I learned very quickly was there’s no beating around the bush in a bathhouse; there’s a mutual understanding that we all come there for one reason and one reason only: sex.

They don’t call me a gaymer for nothing

I began my not-so-innocent exploration of the penis-centric establishment by making a promise to myself to fully traverse the sinful site before settling on my prey for the night. Walking across the dark hallways, I could vaguely hear erotic moans coming from the cabins scattered all over the bathhouse. Multiple semi-naked (mostly older) guys were standing still in the corners giving me aggressive eye contacts as one of their hands was rubbing their erection while simultaneously trying their best to conceal it. Some men even had the audacity to unsolicitedly touch random parts of my body. I don’t know about you… but it definitely made me feel like a juicy watermelon in a market that everyone wants to touch before claiming it as theirs to devour. As a form of self-defense, I did my best to channel my inner Keanu Reeves in The Matrix as I was dodging all the unwanted touches coming my way while giving these men my infamous awkward smile, signifying my desire to be left the fuck alone. At that moment, I thought, “what the fuck did I get myself into?”

When I thought I had seen it all, I continued my exploration to the second floor and I didn’t know that the night would only get kinkier. I started roaming around the extremely dark maze and I did notice some holes on the wall that were strategically positioned for men to stick their manhood inside the hole. Here’s the thing…. contrary to popular belief, anonymous glory hole BJ isn’t really my cup of tea. First of all, I’m not a big fan of surprises, meaning that I would love to see the person responsible for giving me oral pleasure so I could show them my appreciation for their hard work. Secondly, how would you know if the person on the other side wouldn’t bite your dick off? Or how would you know if it’s actually a human being sucking your dick? What if someone decides to take advantage of your temporary inability to make good judgments and brings out a dog to please your stick? Bestiality is definitely not my thing and I don’t want to be forever known as the guy who gets a BJ from a dog on PornHub.

At first I was afraid, I was petrified

Just when I was about to give up on my steamy bathhouse orgy fantasy, I caught a glimpse of this tall and lean Latino guy in his mid 30s standing in the corner with his eyes following the direction of my footsteps. On any other occasion, I would drop to my knees to service his burrito as fast as humanly possible. But here’s the thing… there’s something about the lack of lighting in the room and the sound of cheesy EDM music usually found in most trashy porn videos that did not make me feel at ease. More importantly, how the fuck would I know if he actually wanted to smash my piñata? What if he was eyeing me simply because I had a massive booger hanging out of my nose? I had this preconceived notion of people who go to bathhouses frequently as these sex machines who are definitely into some kinky shit, and I wasn’t sure if I was ready for that. Being a self-proclaimed over-thinker that I am, I did come up with many excuses to make sure I wasn’t one of those delirious bitches who think the world revolves around them. I hate the way my brain works sometimes.

I was going to continue writing about what transpired after our fateful staring contest, but I do not want to turn this chapter into a saga about anonymous BJ. So, please be patient with me and find out what happened in the next chapter!

To be continued…

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