I had no idea Austin was such a gay town. I had nothing to compare it to, no real references except maybe the Montrose district in Houston, and Austin never seemed as gay as that. Unlike Houston, nobody seemed to be wandering around in leather except the punk rockers, the city council hadn't decided to ban spiked belts and bracelets, and there were no ballot initiatives to legalize discrimination against gays. It seemed a big non issue to us straight people. I had a gay roommate. He assured me he told me he was gay long before we moved in together but I don't remember learning about it until he started coming into my room in the middle of the night loaded and begging to give me a blow job or have me fuck him up the ass "It feels just like a girl" he'd say, and I'd reply "Well then why don't I just go get a girl?" which I finally did, some rich chick with a fast car who'd transferred down from SMU, I brought her back to the house, we walked in the living room discovered all these magazines spread out on the coffee table full of photos of sailor boys with their arms shoved up to the elbows in each others assholes. Her jaw dropped, her eyes hardened, she spun on her heels and stormed out the door without a word, and I didn't get laid. Soon enough she transferred back up to SMU.

My roomate had a friend who was probably a lover who wanted to be a muscle man but was too lazy to go to the gym, ate a bunch protein powder instead and got fat. He looked ridiculous in leather, a fat man with a bad attitude who was prone to protein powder fueled fits of jealous rage and would attack me in my own house. I still didn't make the lover connection. I thought the guy was just an asshole.

My roommate came down with Hep-B that summer.

I used to rely on being cruised to catch a ride back home from the Ritz or Club Foot 2am. They were kinda like the punk rockers' taxi service. They always looked half dead with resignation. It didn't seem very gay. I felt bad for those guys.

August '80. I had a check from my parents, banks were holding out of town checks for 3 weeks, I was broke and the only solution was to take the $30 round-trip flight up to Dallas Love Field, catch a bus to the burbs and cash it. Which I did, and then I had a whole fuckin' day to kill. I decided to walk to the mall-I remembered from the summer I'd lived there that there was a big mall where all the kids used to hang out.

Sweltering hot late August morning 9am black Mercedes pulls up middle aged bald businessman inside "Hey kid, where you goin'? You need a ride?" "I'm just going to the mall" "Hop in, it's on my way." We drive a mile or so. "Hey, I think that's the mall." "You know, you're a very pretty boy." "Uh huh. You gonna drop me off at the mall?" "Do you like blowjobs?" "Yeah, sure. You gonna drop me off or what?" "You're a very pretty boy. I'd like to give you a blowjob." "No thanks. You can just drop me off here. I'll walk." "I'm very attracted to you. I'd really like to suck your cock. I'm married, you know. It'll be okay. You need some money?"

I'd just cashed a check from my parents, but could always use more money. Besides, what was I gonna do at the mall for the next 10 hours? "How much?" He names a price. "Naw... I'm not really into guys." He names a higher price. Eventually we wind up in some Ramada Inn type joint about a mile from the mall, I'm sitting on the edge of the bed watching his shiny bald head bobbing up and down while he sucks my cock and it's not turning me on at all, married businessman faggot shouldn't you be at your insurance job earning some money to support your wife and kids and pay off the credit cards you sack of shit you better not put your hands back on my thighs or I'm gonna punch you in the face, and finally I've had enough. "It's not workin'," I say to him. "I told you, I'm not into guys. You want to give me that money and drive me to the mall?" And he does.

I never really thought of it as a gay experience. I just thought of it as the lamest blow job ever. Something seemed wrong about this married guy driving around the suburbs on a weekday morning looking for pretty college boy cock to suck. I let him suck my cock because I was bored and it was cheaper than going to a movie but mostly because he offered me money. I didn't feel cheapened because I was cheap already, and being paid money actually seemed to give me a sense of worth. I was worth $50. It never occurred to me that this made me a whore. I was only slightly baffled by the extraordinary welling of hatred and contempt I felt towards him and myself while I watched his bald head bobbing up and down in my crotch, my soft cock in the same mouth he was gonna kiss his wife and kids with that evening. Hopefully they were gonna enjoy it more than I did. Were any of them worth $50? I wondered if anyone was going to have fun that day. I felt violated, but that was nothing new, and besides I'd agreed to it. What was different was how intensely I felt it this time. At least the guy asked first. I don't think anyone had ever done that before.

The Big Boys and the Dicks were the two Austin punk bands that summer. Two punk bands led by overweight gay guys smack dab in the middle of Texas. It didn't occur to me until some 20 years later just how radical that was. I loved them both, but I always related much more to Gary Floyd's politics of personal rage than to Biscuit's politics of peace harmony and tolerance. Despite my frequent encounters with various cocksuckers I had no idea what Gary was singing about in the Dicks' Saturday Night at the Bookstore. But I understood it completely:

Saturday Night at the Bookstore--the Dicks

Another Saturday night at the bookstore
It looks like every fuckin' piece of trash in town blew in
Hey man, you gotta quarter? I wanna watch peep show number 3
You seen it? I think it's a really good one. Maybe get you turned on.
I don't wanna know your name.
I don't give a fuck what your name is.
Saturday night at the bookstore
Drop a quarter
I think I just fell in love with a glory hole
I think I fuckin' fell in love with a nameless dick
I'm at the bookstore. I'm at the bookstore
You're at the bookstore too!
You fuckin' pig
And your fat fuckin' wife
Comin' outta Safeway on a Sunday afternoon and see me standing there
But you don't even speak to me
You don't wanna know me do ya?
And I suck your fuckin' cock through the glory hole
Isn't that ugly?
I'm at the bookstore. I'm at the bookstore.
You're at the bookstore too!
I saw your fuckin' ass
Everybody hangin' out on a Saturday
Loose it man, we go to the bookstore and pay our fuckin' paychecks right in the glory hole
I'm in love with the glory hole. I'm in love with the glory hole.
Another Saturday night at the bookstore.
I'm at the bookstore. I'm at the bookstore.
You're at the bookstore too!
I'll fuckin' see you there
And your dick
Who gives a fuck about your goddamn name?
Fancy cars? Who cares!?
Three kids? Who cares!?
Who cares about your fuckin' kids?
I'm at the bookstore. I'm at the bookstore.
You're at the bookstore too!
Fucking faggot hanging out in Westlake Hills
You know I'm talking to you at Safeway
A pretty boy like me? You don't wanna talk to me?
You like it
I'm at the bookstore. I'm at the bookstore.
You're at the bookstore too!
Suckin' on my dick, motherfucker
I'm in love with a goddamn gloryhole
And you're on the other side of it
Tell your fat wife
Tell your fat fucking wife
Faggot!
Tell your wife.

© 1980 the dicks

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