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The Gay Bathhouse That Stole My Innocence
It was my first foray into the world of group sex — and I was completely unprepared
Only two things in life show you who you really are: war and public sex. I know nothing of war aside from images of desperate men locked in combat or wandering the battlefield, exposed and vulnerable. I know perhaps too much about public sex.
When I say “public,” I’m not referring to the vanilla elevator sex men and women have in psychological thrillers: the muscle-stud with immaculately messy hair who grabs hungrily at some ingenue in a coat check room or in the back of a limousine. Straight people think they’re so adventurous.
No, I’m talking about full-on, ass-out, naked body contact with strangers you’ve only caught glimpses of in the dark. I’m talking about insertions. Wet moments. The kind of furtive, dirty coupling where it would be rude to stop in the middle just because you’ve discovered your partner is missing a limb.
I’m talking about gay bathhouse sex, the kind we used to have in the mid-nineties before gay men became s’damn cuddly. I’m talking about the Arena Health Club in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania — a place where public sex was not only encouraged but mandatory. If you walked inside the Arena Health Club, you had better be ready to fuck. Pick…
