Rick's Cruising Diary

Missed opportunity

1August

No sex tonight, so if that's your only interest, best move on...

If, however, you want to hear about the circumstances that led me to (probably) missing the chance to get my hands (or should I say mouth), on a straight lad, then continue reading...

The hot weather continues here in Manchester, with temperatures touching 32 degrees. And it's a very dry heat.

I'd been indoors all day. I wanted fresh air and I was horny. So at about 11.15pm, I headed off to the canal area. But up along the 'dead end' (as I call it), on Tariff Street, things were unexciting.

There was one cute little thing, aged about 19, but screamingly camp. He kept giving me dirty looks because he caught me looking at him more than once. In fact, I kept looking over out of surprise and curiosity each time I heard the sound of his screeching voice carrying across the road. Aw bless...

There was a very short guy in a pair of long shorts (are you following?) and a pale green t-shirt. Quite a nice physique, with good pecs, but I probably blew my chance there by not going after him early enough.

Another guy was dark and hairy, in a white vest and awful long black shorts that seemed to merge together so they looked like a skirt. I was desperate enough to follow him, but either he wasn't interested, or he was playing games, so I quickly gave up.

I walked into the gay village. Some guys walking behind in a group whistled at me, but I just walked on. I don't entertain groups — well, not on the street, anyway...

Most places had closed. Just Manto, The New Union and the chicken burger shop (McTuckys) still open. I got some chips and loitered with intent on Canal Street.

A cute young lad, with his shirt off, was standing with two dog-rough-looking young women. Slim, slightly-defined chest.

He deliberately ignored me the first time I passed (I looked him in the face deliberately). But, a few minutes later, he hugged the two women and shouted over to me, in a joking way: 'these are my two girlfriends'.

I didn't know what to make of this. I couldn't work out how old he was either. At least 18, I was sure.

They walked past me and stood on the opposite corner and all of them seemed to be looking across occasionally. Was he too shy to come and chat to me? Were they encouraging him?

Then the lad walked in one direction and the women in the other. I crossed the road to the women and asked one of them: 'is your friend gay or straight? He's cute...'.

She looked at me for what seemed like ages and then muttered something that I couldn't make out. I asked what she'd said and she repeated: 'When was the last time you were kicked in the balls mate? He's my brother. Just a young lad.'

Ooops... I immediately felt very guilty. I'm definitely not into 'jail bait' and perhaps he was younger than he looked. Scary... and maybe he shouldn't be hanging about the Gay Village at nearly 1am?

Swiftly I moved on. I toyed with going into the The New Union, but the bouncer told me that it was �2 entry. I could tell by his voice that he didn't expect me to take him up on this extortionate offer.

I walked round to the 24-hour Spar minimarket on Oxford Road and took my time thumbing through the magazines: Gay Times and the rather sadder Radio Times — which had an article about Mike Myers.

The front page of the Sunday People with a new lead on the murder of BBC TV personality Jill Dando (actually, there's a rumour that a guy was found murdered in the gay village last night. But I haven't seen anything on the news about it yet).

A rather ugly and slightly drunk guy saw me put Gay Times back on the top shelf. Pointing to a picture of a cute-looking footballer on the cover of a sports magazine he asked me: 'what does that guy's face say to you?'

I really had no idea, so I kept quiet. 'Cock,' he replied. Weird... this wasn't usual. I wasn't sure what was going on here and I certainly wasn't interested in him, so I kinda nodded and moved away.

I got some milk and a bottle of 'old-fashioned' lemonade and walked to the counter. A rough-looking lad in a sports shirt was standing there. Looking slightly worse for wear (read 'drunk') he was about 5ft 10ins, with pale skin and close cropped light brown hair. About 23 years old I reckoned.

He was having some kind of slightly-heated discussion with the woman behind the counter, regarding the Mr Kipling fruit pies that he was buying. She kept repeating that, whatever he was talking about, was the responsibility of the Day Manager.

Finally, after some puzzled looks, he said, with a laugh, 'oh, it sounded like you said "gay" manager'. Actually, it had sounded that way to me too.

By now this was all beginning to seem quite surreal... He laughed, she laughed and so did I. 'I thought that too,' I said. Grinning, he picked up his pies and walked out while I was being served.

I left the shop. Looking up Oxford Road, in the distant shadows I could see a broad, naked back. It looked fit, so I walked at quite a pace to catch up with the hunk.

I didn't realise until I got close that it was the lad from the shop, with his shirt now tied around his waist. As I got near, he turned and spoke. Something about how great the hot weather was.

I said perhaps, but the pollution was getting a bit much for me. 'Yeah,' he said, and added that I sounded a bit hoarse (I was).

'Do you go out in the Gay Village?' he asked me. I said yes and named a couple of places. He said he did too. Of course, these days, the place is full of straight men and women — especially at the weekend — so that isn't so surprising.

I asked him if he would be going to Mardi Gras. He said sure, he wouldn't miss it. 'So are you straight?' I asked. He said 'yeah' and he asked whether I was. Hmmmm... was he serious? I dress in a fairly gay way. I said no.

'I doubt my dick would perform with a guy,' he told me. Anyway, this was when I really missed my chance and chickened out...

I should have said 'do you fancy coming back with me and trying?'. But instead I blathered on about how I hadn't done it with a woman either. By now I had walked past the street where I should have turned off. But I was far more interested in chatting up this rough lad.

'How do you know you wouldn't like it with a woman then?' He asked. 'How do YOU know you wouldn't like it with a MAN?' I shot back at him.

At this point he stopped and said: 'I have to go down there mate. See ya around'. And, with that, he headed off back towards the street that I should have gone down (shit...). So, like me, he had also walked past the turn off.

I really couldn't follow him, it would have looked weird — like I was chasing him. So I walked on — away from home!

Perhaps it was the aggressive woman earlier that had made me think twice about propositioning him. Maybe that rumoured murder was even at the back of my mind (and I live in a rough neighbourhood). Besides, I'm an easy-going type of guy and I have a built-in reluctance when it comes to making people feel embarrassed or awkward.

Of course, there have always been straight boys who fancy having their cock sucked by a gay man. But, years ago, gay and straight were like chalk and cheese.

Perhaps one thing this does show is how the Gay Village and events such as the Mardi Gras are giving gay folks a higher profile? Nowadays, straight lads are much more in tune with gay life and culture and they find gay men a bit more approachable.

Looking back, this lad certainly seemed up for it. Hope I bump into him again. And roll on Mardi Gras ;-)