72 Gay-as-Hell Things to Miss From the ‘Before Times’

Remember first dates without a pre-screening? Remember group sex? We didn't lnow how good we had it...

Going to the movies by myself, sitting in the dark with strangers.

Going to the movies with a hot boy and sucking him dry in the back row.

Wild crazy nights at the bar with my friends.

Wilder and crazier nights at the bar by myself, first to be in a jockstrap, crawling on my hands and knees, laying in the piss trough after two beers.

Sold out concerts: moshing, sweating on each other, spilling beer on each other, bumping rudely, pressing against one another. 

Dancing on top of bars for money.

Dancing on an old dude’s lap and taking all his money.

Dancing on a college intern’s lap for only $20 and his eyes going all I’ve never done this before wide. 

Dancing. 

That moment on the subway where your leg touches a dude next to you  and he lowkey touches back, lets it sit there, maybe taps your foot with the side of his shoe. 

Indoor markets.

Smoking a J in the park with a brand new group of people in the sun.

Smoking a J with a first date, cuddling and watching anime on my tiny couch.

Playing the field. 

Romantic dinners inside dimly lit brick interiors.

Smiling at people in public.

Getting spat on.

Flirting with the lifeguards in the locker room. (And the steam room. And the sauna.)

Sharing drinks.

Drinking piss.

Sleepovers with a friend. 

Feeling totally lost in an enormous crowd of people outside. 

Traveling alone. 

Traveling with my childhood best friends.

Traveling to fuck hot guys I only know through Twitter. 

Old, dusty Broadway theaters.

Studio porn.

Bad actors getting way too close to you in Viewpoints Class.

Sharing an Uber home.

Planning for the future.

Meeting newborn family members.

Hugging. 

Shaking hands.

Chest bumps.

Piggyback rides.

Kisses on the cheek.

Kisses on the forehead.

Kisses on the nape of the neck, behind your ear, your eyelid. 

A lover’s hot breath getting tangled with yours.

Music festivals.

Renaissance Festivals (See also: “piss trough”).

Dining cars.

Sending a quarter of my earnings to my loan providers! (Just kidding, go fuck yourselves.)

The comfort of a rainy day at home.

Isolation’s contrast.

Masturbating in the bathroom at the laundromat.

Bars being open until dawn.

Airport survival meals, airport announcements, airport bathroom stalls.

Trying on clothes I have no intention of buying.

Money.

A general sense of direction

My best and closest friends.

Rawdogging.

Popping into a roadside diner.

Mutual JO as a kink and not as a safety practice.

Masks as a kink and not as a safety practice. 

Voyeurism, gloryholes, and outdoor sex as a kink and not as a safety practice. 

Sniffin’ pits.

Sniffin’ socks.

Boys from out of state.

At-risk age-group daddies.

The mall food court.

Hiking with fewer than 900 other people from Manhattan on the same trail as you.

Watching crowd scenes on TV without intrusive thoughts.

Filthy, dirty, “stinks like a dude” sex parties.

Filthy, dirty, “holiday” “work” parties.

Olympic bulges in every single sport: with special shout outs to swimming, diving, water polo, gymnastics, wrestling, track and field, and cross country. 

Snowballing.

First dates without a pre-screen.

Distance from “the void”

Ballet class. 

Cruising. 

JV Marx
About JV Marx More Articles
JV Marx is a poet, performer, and raunchy kinkster camboy.

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