An honest program

At last night’s AA meeting, the features speaker was “J” who had seven years of sobriety. He claimed that Matt, who chaired the meeting, was his grand sponsor and had asked him to speak. “J” used a different name (that also began with a “J”) on Adam4Adam as a massage therapist. I had used him twice. His massages were more than massages, they quickly became sex sessions. He also verbalized a lot of pedophilia type scenarios.

In his profession, he seemed to be something of a bully. He was dominant and I felt uncomfortable and with his directions. It says something of my character that I let myself be bullied, cowed by his actions. Due to the Parkinson’s or age, I had trouble being aroused with him. I mean, going to him once was out of curiosity; going back was perversion. I knew he was in the program. I had seen him at the Friday night AA meeting and Scott confirmed that he was a massage therapist who was also a sex worker on A4A. I didn’t directly tell him that I knew him from AA. He looked at me last night without a flicker of recognition.  Even the second time I went back to him, he claimed he didn’t remember me until he saw my ass when I laid face down on his table.

Throughout his pitch, I sat there in stony silence and disbelief. His spiel was angry, arrogant and void of any insights or personal reflection. It could have been chiseled on a marble wall for all the warmth that it had. Strangely, after his pitch, when numbers were called, no one passed or were silent when the number was announced. That never happens at that meeting. I did not collect a number from the ticket provider and felt free and relaxed that I could sit throughout the share without my number being called.

Next week is the first Friday and all those who’ve had a birthday in the past month speak. I’m going to pass. I have a tentative date to go to the Heard museum with Tom and Brenda to see Frieda Kahlo’s paintings. Or, to go with Scott to see an exhibit in Melrose of a local gay artist that Scott knows. Either way, I’ll miss the birthday bro-ha-ha.

Coming home, I noticed that “D” from Lambda was behind me. His car license tags are 2 years expired and I’ve wrestled telling him that. So far, I’ve kept my mouth shut about that. He comes across as a very opinionated, self-appointed AA Nazi that likes to mentor young men. In gay parlance, he’s a chicken hawk. He sees me as a rival I think and steers sharing at the meetings at Lambda away from me. Maybe it’s just my paranoia.  Who knows.

Anyway, “D” left the Friday night meeting right behind me and I watched his headlights in my rear view mirror. “He’s going to turn left on Osborn, I bet.”  There was an adult book store at Osborn and 3rd Avenue. Sure enough, he turned left. Inwardly, I gloated.  But I felt dirty at the same time. I no longer have a pure pleasure at the human foibles of another, even as someone as prickly as “D”. I can relate to what I imagine was his sexual lust that drove him to the seedy sites of the adult book store with its gaudy displays, the furtive glances in the booths, and the tension one feels that one might be set up for a sting by the law. I know. I’ve felt those feelings that have burned in my loins. My head would scramble to plot how to avoid getting into real trouble while my cock would itch to be satisfied with an unknowable, an unquenchable thirst.

I am grateful that, for once, I am free.


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