The other day when I went to go make a cucumber-onion-tomato-green pepper oil-and-vinegar salad, two things happened:
1) I opened my tupperware of pre-chopped onions and green peppers to find them in water, and disintegrating.
2) I picked up the cucumber from the fridge door, and my hands went through the bottom of the cucumber, which I turned over... There was a bluish mold that had penetrated the bottom skin of the cucumber.
So, I threw the onions and green peppers in the salad, and cut off the bad parts of the cucumber, and hopefully I'll be fine. I put a lot of salt and vinegar in the salad to hopefully kill anything that's bad for me, or at least keep it manageable for my immune system.
Saturday, June 6, 2009
Friday, June 5, 2009
Went to the sex doc social hour thing last night.
So, I went to the sex documentary social hour thing again last night.
I ended up talking for quite a bit with the older white guy who grew up a thug in a local Italian neighborhood but then became more open-minded. He tended to talk a lot at length about things like a lot of older people do, but in his case it was pretty interesting, since every once in a while he'd mention that he'd had 100s of sex partners since back in the 70s he got into swinging.
You think he'd have come off as creepy, but he actually didn't come off that sexual at all, and he actually said that he learned to become a caring person by becoming a nurse and then getting into public health, and then becoming a practicing sexologist.
In terms of his past, he used to do STD awareness in heavily black neighborhoods back in the mid-60s to early 70s, and he got his supervisor to let him wear a leather jacket and grow his hair long so he wouldn't seem as out of place, and one of the black militant gangs actually used to send him around to do info sessions for their pimps and prostitutes.
He would also do syphillis and tuberculosis testing, and said that a coworker of his got a guy killed... The (black) man lived in the back of a (black) bar and would clean the place out, and he was highly infectious with TB. The bar was open and no one was in there, but his coworker entered the place with a mask on and people saw it, so they confronted the TB-infected dude later, and he got kicked out and lost his job and everything and ended up sleeping in the back of an abandoned boxcar in a trainyard somewhere, and since it was getting on to be winter, one cold evening he froze to death.
After that, they did training, about how when you go in to talk with a TB-infected person, you don't wear a mask, and instead you ask them what room they've been the most in most recently, and then move the conversation to a different room.
He was also talking about his sexology practice now, and how he's doing a course out on the West Coast towards end of summer. They do a few days of "sexual disintegration", which is making people desensitized to sex by watching all sorts of videos, then a few days of "sexual reintegration", which is getting nude massages from each other (genital touching optional) where you don't know if it's a man or woman touching you, but instead focusing on the pleasure of the touch, and then a different exercise where everyone's nude in a jacuzzi and you get passed from set of hands to set of hands and try to be relaxed and yourself with everyone, and when they lift you out of the water, you say which body parts of yours you feel inadequate about, so you can learn to claim your own body, though he says it's probably not so good for the guys, since their dicks usually go above water and they get shrinkage when everyone's looking.
I also ended up talking for a while to the swinger lady. We were talking about how much religion comes up in different conversations, and she was saying that she knows I'm a religious studies graduate student, but I'm much more open and normal than a lot of people, so it doesn't freak her out.
"What were you raised, anyway?", she was like, and when I told her Catholic, she was like, "That makes a lot of sense, I could totally tell. Catholic people tend to be fairly normal, religiously."
"I know," I was like. "It seem like whenver I meet someone who's really religiously fucked up, they're pretty much always Protestant."
"Bingo," she was like, "You said it, the P-word. Some people have gaydar, but I have Protestant-dar, I can go into a room and pick out which people were raised Protestant, they just have this aura of being fucked up about them. Isn't that weird? I always just know"
I ended up talking for quite a bit with the older white guy who grew up a thug in a local Italian neighborhood but then became more open-minded. He tended to talk a lot at length about things like a lot of older people do, but in his case it was pretty interesting, since every once in a while he'd mention that he'd had 100s of sex partners since back in the 70s he got into swinging.
You think he'd have come off as creepy, but he actually didn't come off that sexual at all, and he actually said that he learned to become a caring person by becoming a nurse and then getting into public health, and then becoming a practicing sexologist.
In terms of his past, he used to do STD awareness in heavily black neighborhoods back in the mid-60s to early 70s, and he got his supervisor to let him wear a leather jacket and grow his hair long so he wouldn't seem as out of place, and one of the black militant gangs actually used to send him around to do info sessions for their pimps and prostitutes.
He would also do syphillis and tuberculosis testing, and said that a coworker of his got a guy killed... The (black) man lived in the back of a (black) bar and would clean the place out, and he was highly infectious with TB. The bar was open and no one was in there, but his coworker entered the place with a mask on and people saw it, so they confronted the TB-infected dude later, and he got kicked out and lost his job and everything and ended up sleeping in the back of an abandoned boxcar in a trainyard somewhere, and since it was getting on to be winter, one cold evening he froze to death.
After that, they did training, about how when you go in to talk with a TB-infected person, you don't wear a mask, and instead you ask them what room they've been the most in most recently, and then move the conversation to a different room.
He was also talking about his sexology practice now, and how he's doing a course out on the West Coast towards end of summer. They do a few days of "sexual disintegration", which is making people desensitized to sex by watching all sorts of videos, then a few days of "sexual reintegration", which is getting nude massages from each other (genital touching optional) where you don't know if it's a man or woman touching you, but instead focusing on the pleasure of the touch, and then a different exercise where everyone's nude in a jacuzzi and you get passed from set of hands to set of hands and try to be relaxed and yourself with everyone, and when they lift you out of the water, you say which body parts of yours you feel inadequate about, so you can learn to claim your own body, though he says it's probably not so good for the guys, since their dicks usually go above water and they get shrinkage when everyone's looking.
I also ended up talking for a while to the swinger lady. We were talking about how much religion comes up in different conversations, and she was saying that she knows I'm a religious studies graduate student, but I'm much more open and normal than a lot of people, so it doesn't freak her out.
"What were you raised, anyway?", she was like, and when I told her Catholic, she was like, "That makes a lot of sense, I could totally tell. Catholic people tend to be fairly normal, religiously."
"I know," I was like. "It seem like whenver I meet someone who's really religiously fucked up, they're pretty much always Protestant."
"Bingo," she was like, "You said it, the P-word. Some people have gaydar, but I have Protestant-dar, I can go into a room and pick out which people were raised Protestant, they just have this aura of being fucked up about them. Isn't that weird? I always just know"
Thursday, June 4, 2009
A few things...
1) The other night I was walking home from the gym past the fire station and an engine pulled out, sirens blaring, and as it turned onto the street, a pike flew off the back of the truck somewhere and landed on the street. The metal blade part was pointed towards the tires of oncoming cars, so when there was a clearing, I went out and pulled it aside into the gutter, though not before a couple cars had run over it and broke the wooden shaft in half.
2a) Another other night I ran into my one English friend at the gym. I was saying that I couldn't believe it was the 1st of June already, and he whacked me on the shoulder and was like, "A pinch and a punch for the 1st of the month!", and when I was confused, he said that that was what all English schoolchildren say to each other, and that you're supposed to respond, "I'll poke you in the eye, for being so sly."
2b) Last Saturday at the student-faculty softball game the student spectators started singing "Take Me Out to the Ball Game", and the one Australian student in my cohort turned to me and asked me what the song was.
3) I got invited to the swingers's summer barbecue. The e-vite they sent out specified no outdoor nudity.
2a) Another other night I ran into my one English friend at the gym. I was saying that I couldn't believe it was the 1st of June already, and he whacked me on the shoulder and was like, "A pinch and a punch for the 1st of the month!", and when I was confused, he said that that was what all English schoolchildren say to each other, and that you're supposed to respond, "I'll poke you in the eye, for being so sly."
2b) Last Saturday at the student-faculty softball game the student spectators started singing "Take Me Out to the Ball Game", and the one Australian student in my cohort turned to me and asked me what the song was.
3) I got invited to the swingers's summer barbecue. The e-vite they sent out specified no outdoor nudity.
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
Addendum.
My shit has been fairly regular for the past year - dark, comes out easily, not too dense and not too liquidy, and not that smelly.
After all that Puerto Rican food, though, my shit was a dark red-brown and dense but really gooey, so I'd wipe my ass like ten times or more and they'd still be more to wipe on the toilet paper, and it stank with this dark rich smell.
After all that Puerto Rican food, though, my shit was a dark red-brown and dense but really gooey, so I'd wipe my ass like ten times or more and they'd still be more to wipe on the toilet paper, and it stank with this dark rich smell.
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
!Viva Puerto Rico!
Since my one Dutch friend was moving this past weekend and his neighborhood is quite far from mine and he needed help, I ended up going up there on Sat. night to help him pack and then to stay on the couch so I could be up and at it on Sun. to load the truck and clean the carpets, but, since his neighborhood is where all the Puerto Ricans live, I managed to have some fun, too.
On Sat. evening, for example, I ducked into a Puerto Rican restaurant and had dinner. The menu was laminated and had a picture of a wind-surfing frog on the cover, with a tropical island in the background and the boat's sail having the colors of the Puerto Rican flag, and when the waitress came up, this self-important, relatively light-skinned late 20s girl who was squat but not fat, since I wanted a pork jibarito but they only seemed to have a pork sandwich and jibaritos with other things than pork on them, I was like, "Do you have pork jibaritos?", and I guess I must have talked indistinctly or something, since she gave me a look and was like, "I am sorry sir, but we do not serve burritos here."
They also spelled "malta" on the menu as "marta", and they had this automatic wastebasket in the bathroom where you waved your hand in front of it and the lid opened, since I guess that's too much work for Puerto Ricans.
On Sun. I went with my one Dutch friend's one friend, who is Dutch, to go get some cafe con leche and a steak sandwich real quick (pressed bread, steak, egg, mayo, and lots of some seasoning that had a lot of cumin in it - the other customers, who were either Puerto Rican or black [or dark Puerto Ricans, because some Dominicans knocked up their madres?] were quite fat, probably from eating there so much, and several of them had on stained t-shirts), and the cafe down the street had this poster that said
I STAND WITH SOTOMAYOR
and had Sotomayor's face on it, and from the font you could tell it was distributed somehow by the Obama campaign (the font is the same as the "I BELIEVE" posters or whatever that were everywhere during the campaign).
Also, my one Dutch friend's neighbors said that when they moved into the neighborhood 10 years ago, well before any other gentrfication, one day they got hate mail from the neighborhood club asking them to move, since they wanted to keep the neighborhood for Puerto Ricans.
Also also, my one Dutch friend says that on some nights there's a Puerto Rican trannie that roams the major east-west thoroughfare just north of his house.
On Sat. evening, for example, I ducked into a Puerto Rican restaurant and had dinner. The menu was laminated and had a picture of a wind-surfing frog on the cover, with a tropical island in the background and the boat's sail having the colors of the Puerto Rican flag, and when the waitress came up, this self-important, relatively light-skinned late 20s girl who was squat but not fat, since I wanted a pork jibarito but they only seemed to have a pork sandwich and jibaritos with other things than pork on them, I was like, "Do you have pork jibaritos?", and I guess I must have talked indistinctly or something, since she gave me a look and was like, "I am sorry sir, but we do not serve burritos here."
They also spelled "malta" on the menu as "marta", and they had this automatic wastebasket in the bathroom where you waved your hand in front of it and the lid opened, since I guess that's too much work for Puerto Ricans.
On Sun. I went with my one Dutch friend's one friend, who is Dutch, to go get some cafe con leche and a steak sandwich real quick (pressed bread, steak, egg, mayo, and lots of some seasoning that had a lot of cumin in it - the other customers, who were either Puerto Rican or black [or dark Puerto Ricans, because some Dominicans knocked up their madres?] were quite fat, probably from eating there so much, and several of them had on stained t-shirts), and the cafe down the street had this poster that said
I STAND WITH SOTOMAYOR
and had Sotomayor's face on it, and from the font you could tell it was distributed somehow by the Obama campaign (the font is the same as the "I BELIEVE" posters or whatever that were everywhere during the campaign).
Also, my one Dutch friend's neighbors said that when they moved into the neighborhood 10 years ago, well before any other gentrfication, one day they got hate mail from the neighborhood club asking them to move, since they wanted to keep the neighborhood for Puerto Ricans.
Also also, my one Dutch friend says that on some nights there's a Puerto Rican trannie that roams the major east-west thoroughfare just north of his house.
Monday, June 1, 2009
From "Child Bride".
Last night I just finished Suzanne Finstad's "Child Bride: The Untold Story of Priscilla Beaulieu Presley". My favorite sentence from it is from p. 240, where it summarizes her post-Elvis relationships and dalliances:
She could not survive without sex; and survival was at the core of Priscilla's being.
I also love how in the "Acknowledgements" section at the end the author says:
My wish for Priscilla Presley is that she may, one day, free herself from the past -- her true past and the imaginary past she created to perpetuate a myth that no longer needs to exist.
I love how serious the author is - she does a hatchet job (which seems very accurate), and then says she wants the best for Priscilla, which can only be done by Priscilla acknowledging what she's dug up!
I also love the title of this one book, which she refers to the writing of, which is by some Presley aides who were fired in the year before he died and then wrote a tell all -- it's called "Elvis: What Happened?".
She could not survive without sex; and survival was at the core of Priscilla's being.
I also love how in the "Acknowledgements" section at the end the author says:
My wish for Priscilla Presley is that she may, one day, free herself from the past -- her true past and the imaginary past she created to perpetuate a myth that no longer needs to exist.
I love how serious the author is - she does a hatchet job (which seems very accurate), and then says she wants the best for Priscilla, which can only be done by Priscilla acknowledging what she's dug up!
I also love the title of this one book, which she refers to the writing of, which is by some Presley aides who were fired in the year before he died and then wrote a tell all -- it's called "Elvis: What Happened?".
A story of my dad.
When he was substitute teaching last week, he got a 6th grade class, and since they (his words) "have a lot of juice in them" and are easily distracted and it was getting towards the end of class, he taught them all how to make paper hats and boats.
Now, too, he keeps wondering now what their parents will think, and the teacher he was subbing for, when word gets back to them.
Now, too, he keeps wondering now what their parents will think, and the teacher he was subbing for, when word gets back to them.
An email from my mom (2 of 2): Vacation.
She wrote this email actually before the other email, but I forgot to post it then:
Hi Guy!
Mailed ya a check yesterday.......so watch for it.
Gotz to tell ya..............was in the Dollar General in [a small town in Michigan near the hunting camp my parents own]...........an older lady with bleached whitish blonde hair........puffed up lips with pale glossy lipstick.........and a horrendously phony dark tan..........walked by me. Looked EXACTLY like the woman in the Ben Stiller movie. What a hoot!
Gotz to get to the desk.
XXXXXXXXXXOOOOOOOOOMom
Hi Guy!
Mailed ya a check yesterday.......so watch for it.
Gotz to tell ya..............was in the Dollar General in [a small town in Michigan near the hunting camp my parents own]...........an older lady with bleached whitish blonde hair........puffed up lips with pale glossy lipstick.........and a horrendously phony dark tan..........walked by me. Looked EXACTLY like the woman in the Ben Stiller movie. What a hoot!
Gotz to get to the desk.
XXXXXXXXXXOOOOOOOOOMom
An email from my mom (1 of 2): Job.
I had written my mom that I have a lead on a summer job at the university coffee shop in my building, which we had seen years ago when I was a high school senior and we drove down to check it out as a place for me possibly doing undergrad -- I had asked her if she remembered it:
Yes I do remember it well............it's where we talked to some students and they said they carried guns....I never told you but that really really worried me!!!!!!!!!!!!!
So you have the lead to get a job there?
XXXXXXXXXXXXXOOOOOOOOOMOm
Yes I do remember it well............it's where we talked to some students and they said they carried guns....I never told you but that really really worried me!!!!!!!!!!!!!
So you have the lead to get a job there?
XXXXXXXXXXXXXOOOOOOOOOMOm
Sunday, May 31, 2009
Sex doc - this time, on really butch black lesbians.
So, last Tuesday I went to the sex doc thing documentary, which was advertised as being about really butch black lesbians, but turned out to be about the young black queer kids in the neighborhood my one friend from college in New York lives in.
The documentary was a little over-long and just okay, but the scenes where some really butch lesbians would duct-tape up their tits before dressing up as thugs, and esp. when the scenes where they would remove the duct tape, made me wince, I can't imagine how it was for the women in the room, though they def. seemed to wince more.
Anyhow, the conversation was pretty much rewarding because the boss of my one friend who works at the rape crisis hotline showed up, this shorter, heavier-built lesbian woman with anarchist tattoos and a bleach-blonde mohawk, who tends to be on the quieter side, but laughs heartily and has a good sense of humor.
Her 1st comment was that she liked how they showed a range of masculinity-femininity among the butch lesbians, and how some of them would date really feminine women, but others more butch ones, and how some even dated femme-y male transvetites.
"I appreciate that," she was like.
At that point, I chimed in that I was disturbed that when they showed a butch dyke glam ball, I was bothered not by how the one rapping lesbian kept calling this pretty woman in the audience she was interested in and rapping to a "cunt" as she free-styled, since that was excusable since each probably found her saying it repeatedly hot, but that the free-style rap about beating her up with a baseball bat was just too much.
"I agree," she was like, "That was a little over the line. But, it is still nice they had a range of partner type. I know, for example, I like to have a man on occasion. If it's a man or a woman, I'm on top, no matter what, I don't care what's between your legs. For me, a 'bitch' can only be a man, I like to say, 'Take that, bitch.'"
Her 2nd comment was that she was surprised that when the one dyke in the documentary joined the military, that they let her keep her head shaved, since when she was in the Navy like 10 years ago, also under "Don't Ask Don't Tell", the Navy mandated that all women keep shoulder-length hair, while men had to have their heads shaved.
She then added that she wasn't surprised that in the course of the film the one lesbian went AWOL during the Iraq War, not only because of the war and the sudden, real risk of death, but because it's easier to be out in bootcamp where everyone is new and you have a 24-7 totally-controlled existence and somehow people are more openly open to having gay people around, but once you're on ship or whatever, people have been there for a while and you have to fit into pre-existing social structures, and then you have a more-or-less 9-to-5 job and you have off-time that you can never talk about, and it's tough.
She also said that she joined to get out of her parents's house and she thought that the Navy would be a good place to find women, and that it was, and she was then like, "And anyways, the military is one of the gayest places in the entire U.S."
I asked her to expand on that, and she was like, "It just is, there's tons of gay people. The gayest branch isn't the Navy, even, or the Army, but the Marines. The men all wear those tight khaki pants and work out a lot and look at each other, and they're all there looking out for one another and they don't need no one else, and they're very suspicious of outsiders. Totally, totally gay. And everyone only sees their wives or girlfriends every 6 months, because that's how it is in the military."
After the discussion and the group broke up, me and my one friend I went with were going to go get a drink, but we get downstairs from the event room to discover that it was totally pouring outside.
"Like piss out of a leather boot, eh?", I was like to the hostess, who was standing outside and is a BDSM activist, and she was like, "Yes, but no, it's totally not my thing!", then she offered that her boyfriend, who's this kind of soft-spoken submissive early-20s nerd guy with tousled hair, could give us a ride over to the bar. We accepted, and as soon as we got in the car's backseat, he was in the driver's seat and she shotgun, and they leaned over right in front of us and deep-Frenched spontaneously for about 30-40 seconds.
We then started talking a bit about the ethics of consent, and I brought up the famous case of the German guy who advertised for a guy on the internet to make him chop off his own dick and eat it, which I didn't think was okay, but the hostess did, and she added that they've done long-term studies about men who've gone through with castration fantasies, and for the vast majority of them, they're still highly-satisfied years later, and only wish that they had done it sooner.
I then asked about guys who get gang-banged without condoms, and the ethics of whether people can consent to pretty much getting AIDS. Her position was that it might be an information problem, and that if they surveyed guys who did this years later when they were in the midst of awful complications from AIDS and most of them regretted it, you would be in a good position to point out that these types of people are consenting to things that their later selves will likely regret, and that anyhow people make poorly-informed decisions to consent to sex all the time.
This whole conversation was, in fact, brought about because she had said she had been on a panel about BDSM and mental/physical health, and that one of the co-panelists had done a survey on gay leather men, and had found out that whereas like with any random group of gay men 10% of the people will have AIDS, 25% of any given group of leather men will.
Interestingly, of risk factors, a leather man who identified with any BDSM role was at much more risk than a man who identified as "leather" in general but not with any BDSM role. As it turns out, leather top guys think it's more masculine not to use protection, and leather bottom guys think of it as greater submission, while everyone else who's not BDSM but is into leather is, the hostess thinks, just masculine guys in general who are into other masculine guys and can't find that general type of guy within other gay venues, and so find themselves drawn into the leather community.
The documentary was a little over-long and just okay, but the scenes where some really butch lesbians would duct-tape up their tits before dressing up as thugs, and esp. when the scenes where they would remove the duct tape, made me wince, I can't imagine how it was for the women in the room, though they def. seemed to wince more.
Anyhow, the conversation was pretty much rewarding because the boss of my one friend who works at the rape crisis hotline showed up, this shorter, heavier-built lesbian woman with anarchist tattoos and a bleach-blonde mohawk, who tends to be on the quieter side, but laughs heartily and has a good sense of humor.
Her 1st comment was that she liked how they showed a range of masculinity-femininity among the butch lesbians, and how some of them would date really feminine women, but others more butch ones, and how some even dated femme-y male transvetites.
"I appreciate that," she was like.
At that point, I chimed in that I was disturbed that when they showed a butch dyke glam ball, I was bothered not by how the one rapping lesbian kept calling this pretty woman in the audience she was interested in and rapping to a "cunt" as she free-styled, since that was excusable since each probably found her saying it repeatedly hot, but that the free-style rap about beating her up with a baseball bat was just too much.
"I agree," she was like, "That was a little over the line. But, it is still nice they had a range of partner type. I know, for example, I like to have a man on occasion. If it's a man or a woman, I'm on top, no matter what, I don't care what's between your legs. For me, a 'bitch' can only be a man, I like to say, 'Take that, bitch.'"
Her 2nd comment was that she was surprised that when the one dyke in the documentary joined the military, that they let her keep her head shaved, since when she was in the Navy like 10 years ago, also under "Don't Ask Don't Tell", the Navy mandated that all women keep shoulder-length hair, while men had to have their heads shaved.
She then added that she wasn't surprised that in the course of the film the one lesbian went AWOL during the Iraq War, not only because of the war and the sudden, real risk of death, but because it's easier to be out in bootcamp where everyone is new and you have a 24-7 totally-controlled existence and somehow people are more openly open to having gay people around, but once you're on ship or whatever, people have been there for a while and you have to fit into pre-existing social structures, and then you have a more-or-less 9-to-5 job and you have off-time that you can never talk about, and it's tough.
She also said that she joined to get out of her parents's house and she thought that the Navy would be a good place to find women, and that it was, and she was then like, "And anyways, the military is one of the gayest places in the entire U.S."
I asked her to expand on that, and she was like, "It just is, there's tons of gay people. The gayest branch isn't the Navy, even, or the Army, but the Marines. The men all wear those tight khaki pants and work out a lot and look at each other, and they're all there looking out for one another and they don't need no one else, and they're very suspicious of outsiders. Totally, totally gay. And everyone only sees their wives or girlfriends every 6 months, because that's how it is in the military."
After the discussion and the group broke up, me and my one friend I went with were going to go get a drink, but we get downstairs from the event room to discover that it was totally pouring outside.
"Like piss out of a leather boot, eh?", I was like to the hostess, who was standing outside and is a BDSM activist, and she was like, "Yes, but no, it's totally not my thing!", then she offered that her boyfriend, who's this kind of soft-spoken submissive early-20s nerd guy with tousled hair, could give us a ride over to the bar. We accepted, and as soon as we got in the car's backseat, he was in the driver's seat and she shotgun, and they leaned over right in front of us and deep-Frenched spontaneously for about 30-40 seconds.
We then started talking a bit about the ethics of consent, and I brought up the famous case of the German guy who advertised for a guy on the internet to make him chop off his own dick and eat it, which I didn't think was okay, but the hostess did, and she added that they've done long-term studies about men who've gone through with castration fantasies, and for the vast majority of them, they're still highly-satisfied years later, and only wish that they had done it sooner.
I then asked about guys who get gang-banged without condoms, and the ethics of whether people can consent to pretty much getting AIDS. Her position was that it might be an information problem, and that if they surveyed guys who did this years later when they were in the midst of awful complications from AIDS and most of them regretted it, you would be in a good position to point out that these types of people are consenting to things that their later selves will likely regret, and that anyhow people make poorly-informed decisions to consent to sex all the time.
This whole conversation was, in fact, brought about because she had said she had been on a panel about BDSM and mental/physical health, and that one of the co-panelists had done a survey on gay leather men, and had found out that whereas like with any random group of gay men 10% of the people will have AIDS, 25% of any given group of leather men will.
Interestingly, of risk factors, a leather man who identified with any BDSM role was at much more risk than a man who identified as "leather" in general but not with any BDSM role. As it turns out, leather top guys think it's more masculine not to use protection, and leather bottom guys think of it as greater submission, while everyone else who's not BDSM but is into leather is, the hostess thinks, just masculine guys in general who are into other masculine guys and can't find that general type of guy within other gay venues, and so find themselves drawn into the leather community.
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