So Many Men's Rooms, So Little Time

[DesertFox]

Chistopher Hitchens

Why men like Larry Craig continue to court danger in public places

I knew it was all over for Sen. Larry Craig when he appeared with his long-suffering wife to say that he wasn't gay. Such moments are now steppingstones on the way to apology, counseling, and rehab, and a case could be made for cutting out the spousal stage of the ritual altogether. Along with a string of votes to establish "don't ask, don't tell" and to prohibit homosexual marriage, Craig leaves as his political legacy the telling phrase "wide stance," which may or may not join "big tent" and "broad church" as an attempt to make the Republican Party seem more "inclusive" than it really is.

But there's actually a chance—a 38 percent chance, to be more precise—that the senator can cop a plea on the charge of hypocrisy. In his study of men who frequent public restrooms in search of sex, Laud Humphreys discovered that 54 percent were married and living with their wives, 38 percent did not consider themselves homosexual or bisexual, and only 14 percent identified themselves as openly gay. Tearoom Trade: Impersonal Sex in Personal Places, a doctoral thesis which was published in 1970, detailed exactly the pattern—of foot-tapping in code, hand-gestures, and other tactics—which has lately been garishly publicized at a Minneapolis-St. Paul airport men's room. The word tearoom seems to have become archaic, but in all other respects the fidelity to tradition is impressive.

More (http://www.slate.com/id/2173112/fr/flyout)

[DoctorDoom]

MEDICAL ALERT!

The Restless Leg Syndrome Institute has issued a warning to all sufferers to stay out of Minnesota airports. You could find yourself declared faggy.

[DesertFox]

That's a pretty funny column, which is rare for Hitchens.

[DoctorDoom]

Even a blind squirrel finds an occasional nut.

[Wyatt_Junker]

From the intricacy of the article it sounds as if Hitchens has done a lot of ruminating on the subject. Then, more ruminating on top of that.

My first roomate in college was a turd knocker. He lived in West Hollywood and would conjoin with strangers on the top floor of his apartment in the sauna. One knock meant you just wanted to burn a few calories. Two knocks, followed by a pause, then a third meant otherwise.

Restroom sex has never been my thing. I just take dumps in there. Big ones. I powdercoat the entire stall with my bomb then vamoose.

Very infrequently will I even shower at the gym. And if I must, I wear flip flops so as not to pick up man germ or touch a straying back hair clogging the drain. I know there are other guys who get their gym room moxie on, maybe even blowdry their balls. I can't do it. Not with the guy in stall numer 4 who just took a very dense and dark Anchor Steam shit.

I'm in. I'm out. I don't take names. I don't ask for directions. I keep my head straight forward at all times. And I keep my words few.

[DesertFox]

Sissy!

*guffaw* :D

[Riverboat]

I'm way bolder than der Junkermann. I not only shower with other men, I also sit it the hot tub with them. But it's the YMCA, and in this town, the letter C in there still means something, like the B.C. in history books published before 2000 Anno Domini. No B.C.E. for us, nossireebob. You can stick that common era bolus in the packing chute with the rest of that shit.