COMMENTARY: They say
the Internet killed the gay sex club -- but as one writer finds
out with just a little bit of research, for some people, those
dark corridors are inviting more play than ever.
I sit fireside with a
portly, rosy-cheeked man puffing a stogie while he regales me
with stories of yesteryear. We might have been models for
Norman Rockwell, but instead of being in a den in a small New
England snowcapped cottage, we're just two of the many men
at one of the West Coast's most hard-core gay sex clubs.
Slings, glory holes,
jockstraps, assless chaps -- it's all about easy access here,
unless you're trying to talk to management. Due to the nature
of their business, staff members of sex clubs are rarely
willing to speak on the record. Most of these clubs existed
illegally in earlier incarnations, so there remains a nostalgic
reticence to do anything in the public eye. Not to mention, the
confidentiality of their customers is paramount to their
prosperity.
Although this club is
legal, I have changed names to protect the anonymity of staff
and patrons. This club is so legal, in fact, that the building
it's in was selected with the help of members of the vice squad
and the department of building safety enforcement. Regulations
for a legal "encounter establishment" include certain
distance from schools and residences.
With a Plexiglas
partition between us, I tell the cashier I'm there to see
Glen, the longtime manager of the club, who is a friend of a
friend. "In the microphone," the cashier gruffly orders me.
Crouching down, I speak carefully into the microphone: "Is
Glen around?" I ask, tempted to order fries with that. "I'm
Glen," grumbles a burly man as he emerges from darkness.
"I'm a friend of
Rob's from the bar next door," I explain. "He said I might
be able to talk to you about ... "
Glen interrupts me.
"Step to the side," he says, looking annoyed. Speaking into
my second microphone of the evening, I carefully state my
reasons for seeking him out. To my surprise, he invites me
right in. We sit on the patio by a blazing fire pit while other
patrons refuel before their next go-round.
As one might expect,
the advent of Internet cruising has negatively affected
revenues at encounter establishments over the past 15 years. In
Southern California, Internet cruising for sex began with
DELOS, a BBS (bulletin board system), and
progressed to AOL chat rooms and now hookup sites. So
why pay a $15 or $20 entry fee when you can get it for free on
Craigslist?
"The Internet,"
Glen says ominously, "is dangerous. We give condoms and lube.
We promote safe sex. We have on-site HIV testing. Online you
could meet an ax murderer. We get people out of the parks, out
of the alleys, and out of the restrooms. We give them a safe
place to come."
Hooray for double
entendres.
Click here to follow The Advocate on Twitter.
Page 1 of 3
Matt Siegel also blogs
at
TheUnabashedQueer.blogspot.com
. This article is representative of the author's views and
not those of Advocate.com.