The Qualifier

TowelBoy finds hook-up qualifiers more annoying than a ‘Suzanne Somers Salutes Our Troops’ television special. What is a qualifier, you may ask? A qualifier is my word for some ridiculous requirement or condition that obliterates a potential hook-up. I’m sure this has happened to you before. You’re talking to a hot guy at the bar, online, or even at Club Pittsburgh. There’s definitely some chemistry happening. You’re fascinated with his eyes; he can’t take his eyes off of your package. You both enjoy stuffed-crust pizza, the Oxygen network, and analingus. But just when you’re about to seal the deal, you get pummeled by the qualifier: He’s only interested in guys under 30. (You’re 32) He’ll only go home with a guy that’s “straight-acting”. (Your bedroom shelves are littered with crowns and titles.) Unfortunately, he’s only into smooth guys. (You have three hairs growing around each nipple, and you’ve never had a bikini wax.) He can only have sex if his friend Tina comes along. (And you believe Whitney – crack is whack.) Or the most common and disturbing of the qualifiers, he only likes it bare. (And you, on the other hand, enjoy not having a chronic illness.) TowelBoy has had many fantasies annihilated by an unexpected qualifier. Much like social diseases, new qualifiers keep popping up all the time. Let’s look at some of my frustrating favorites…

AGE. This one never ceases to amaze me. I’ll get an instant message from HngTwink22, or a cute blonde with amazing brown eyes starts cruising me at the tubs. He compliments my smile and my eyes. He lives just a few blocks away. Then he asks how old I am, and I’m stubbornly honest. And then the conversation ends. “You’re hot, but I’m only interested in guys under 30.” My face may say 27, but my driver’s license says 32. Apparently, it’s just me and my hand tonight. Now call Alanis, because this is ironic: I could have said that I’m 27, he would have bought it, and we would have shared a delightful tryst. I get no points for honesty. Working as an attendant at the front desk at Club Pittsburgh, I have held the driver’s license of just about every homo in the tri-state area in my hand. I am like Rain Man when it comes to remembering insignificant information, like the birthdates of 5000 CP patrons. So somebody turns me down because I tell them I’m 32 and runs off with HotButt28, who claims to be 28. Only I’ve seen Mr. HotButt’s ID, and I know that he hasn’t been 28 since the first George Bush was in the White House. Go figure.

MASCULINE/FEMININE. As a teenager, two of my closest friends were Brandi and Alicia. The two girls were cousins, and they were extremely competitive. Both girls are black. Many delightful afternoons turned dismal when the girls would start sparring over which had darker skin. Apparently, lighter skin is more socially acceptable than dark skin. Both girls are extremely beautiful. And both are ethnically black, regardless of their skin tone. I never understood why it was relevant that one girl was “blacker” than the other. I always thought they should celebrate their human link instead of trying to manufacture a divisive difference. I think of their argument each time some internet queen makes an issue over masculine/feminine. For me, it’s an argument about who is “gayer”. Does it really matter? TowelBoy says that if you enjoy having a penis in your mouth, you’re playing for the gay team. It doesn’t matter if you played high school football or have a voice like a James Earl Jones. I tend to fall somewhere in the middle. If someone is coming after me with a baseball bat, or a handsome gentleman is tied to my Lazy Boy, I can be as butch as Rosie O’Donnell at a softball tournament. On the other hand, I’ve been known to be a little light in the loafers when I’m imitating Patty Duke’s riveting performance in “Valley of the Dolls”. You have to love the queen who is Nair’d from head to toe underneath his Abercrombie warm-up suit, yet claims he’s only interested in masculine men. What does it matter what my voice sounds like? If your dick is in my mouth, you’re not going to have to listen to me anyway.

HAIR. This one overlaps with the masculine/feminine debate. Why is it that gay guys that identify themselves as “masculine” insist on removing every hair follicle below the neck? But I digress. Countless times, I’ve had a guy totally hot for me until I get my shirt off and he sees a patch of hair around my navel. Apparently, this is completely unacceptable, and perhaps the Allegheny County Health Department should be notified. TowelBoy needs to shuffle over to Rite Aid and get himself a can of Nair before the animal control people come to capture him. And I’m not exactly a “bear” – you could probably count the hairs on my chest. How many of you have had a perfectly delightful blowjob ruined by some dizzy Mary flailing in an exaggerated choking fit over a pubic hair? I can think of one trick in particular who deserved an Emmy for his dramatized asphyxiation. He’s probably still picking hair out of his teeth. I have been harboring this dreadful secret that I can’t contain any longer: I like pubic hair. I think it looks sexy. I don’t mind negotiating around it. I waited 12 years to get it, and I have absolutely no intention of shaving it off. Every male past puberty should have hair on his genitals. And don’t even get me started on the hair on my ass. That’s just the law of nature, Mary. Put your Lady Bic down and get over it.

PARTY & PLAY. For the longest time, I thought when someone asked if I “party”, they planned on serving hors d’oeuvres and doing the chicken dance before we had sex. Apparently, there is no Cheese Whiz at this particular soiree. Someone looking to “party and play” expects you to provide a delicious chemical cocktail with intercourse. Apparently, methamphetamines are the trendy queen’s party favor of choice. TowelBoy has never even smoked a cigarette. And as far as pot, coke, smack, and Tina are concerned, I’ve seen far too many episodes of “Celebrity Rehab” to even consider it. Since you already have Alanis on the line, run this one by her: Most of these “party favors” make it impossible for your brave little soldier to march into battle. And nothing pisses off TowelBoy more than driving through rush hour traffic for a man that can’t get an erection. I’ve encountered countless guys who aren’t willing to meet unless I’m willing to get high. No deal! One would hope that my stout member would be a gentleman caller’s drug of choice. And one additional consideration here: How can you make responsible choices about sex if you’re higher than Lindsay Lohan on the Santa Monica Freeway? Which is the perfect segue for the most shocking qualifier…

BAREBACKING. This entire issue has made me almost give up on sex entirely. As I’ve mentioned in other posts, I do not consider barebacking a fetish. It’s reckless and irresponsible. I would not risk my health and safety for a fantastic fuck from Justin Timberlake. Sex may cloud my judgment on a butt load of issues, but this is never one of them. Yet this is a frightening trend: if I sit and cruise the internet for two hours, I will lose at least three potential hook-ups over barebacking. We exchange pictures, and he likes what he sees. We’re both turned on by a good kisser. His roommate is gone for the evening, and I happen to have a full tank of gas. We’re compatible in every way…except he only likes it bare. I insist on condoms, and he insists on ending the discussion. This is, by far, the most prevalent qualifier in the gay sex arena. Sadly, there are a lot of hot guys out there that won’t even consider meeting you unless you’re willing to declare in advance that you’ll fuck them without a condom. All you have to do is tell him you’re “clean” – he doesn’t even need to know your name. TowelBoy is pleased to inform these guys that the internet is useful for more than finding a hot lay. Just google “safe sex” and see what turns up.

What “qualifiers” have ruined a hot experience for you? I’d love to commiserate. Perhaps we can formulate a plan to quell the qualifier in the name of great sex for all.

Although qualifiers for sex are frustrating nuisances beyond our control, we have total control over deciding who’s qualified to sit in the White House for the next four years. Pennsylvania will play a key role in determining who wins the Democratic nomination. Our next president will face huge challenges in the realms of equality, gay rights, and HIV education, prevention, and treatment. Whether you’re a Democrat, Republican, progressive, liberal, conservative, or in an independent groove, I encourage you to get involved. You must be registered 30 days in advance to participate in Pennsylvania’s primary election, scheduled for April 22. For more information, please visit:

www.RockTheVote.com

After you rock the vote, stop into Club Pittsburgh on Saturday, March 15 to rock the house with porn star Lex Sabre. Showtime is at midnight, and there are absolutely no qualifiers for having a great time. I look forward to seeing you there!

Qualifying for the Gay Sex Special Olympics,
TowelBoy