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Last night I was with my Mormon friends at an informal discussion group – one of our other friends was talking to us about theater in NYC and recommending shows, etc. One of my friends lightheartedly mentioned an experimental show where there was a red velvet cake representing someone’s dead bloody body and people started eating it. I exclaimed my disgust. One thing about me – I can never hide my emotions.
Everyone laughed at me and another friend mentioned a show she had seen where someone smashed a pumpkin that was supposed to represent a human head. “I can’t handle it!” I cried and covered my ears. Again, everyone laughed.
People think I’m just overreacting or being funny, but I really cannot
handle such gross depictions of violence to the human body, even
Then they started discussing the immersive theatre piece “Sleep No More.” The girl who led the discussion intoned in a very serious voice, “I have to warn you, there is eroticism and sexual connotations.” Another of my friends, who’d seen the show, agreed that there was nudity, but she didn’t feel the scenes she saw were particularly erotic (since the show is interactive, each person can see a different show, depending on which character they follow, which rooms they end up in, etc.). They both thought the show was excellent but emphasized that one should be prepared for the sexual inferences.
I remember reading about “Sleep No More” when it first came out a couple years ago and was instantly intrigued. I still need to see it, but what will be uncomfortable for me will be the violence, not the sex. This
theatre discussion only reinforced to me how different I am from my dear Mormon friends. I was dismayed, as I usually get, at hearing my Mormon friends exercise caution in all matters sexual but think nothing of violence.
My friends know I can’t handle violence. When we watch movies, they always tell me when I need to cover my eyes and (sometimes ears). But when we’re choosing movies, if there is too much hint of anything sexual, someone will invariably voice concern. But I feel like I am the only one who protests at violence.
I will never understand the Mormon culture’s over-concern with sex and
under-concern with violence (I specify culture because our doctrine is
pretty clearly against violence). Even my roommate has often complained that guys in New York are worse than guys in California because they’ll cheat on their women (I could never tell her the full story about my beloved married Robert Hannibal), and guys in Cali are faithful, but they all have guns. I didn’t press her on this because I didn’t want to get in an argument with her, but I’m so tired of this kind of thinking.
At this theatre discussion, I remembered a meeting with my bishop this past December. He was trying to understand how I can have a testimony of the LDS church but not a testimony of the law of chastity. He asked what I thought about the human body and the sacred creation that it is and the sacred respect that we should give the body. I told him I have so much respect for the human body that it upsets me to watch any kind of violence and I don’t even like watching fights because I can’t handle bodies getting hurt. He seemed surprised and said it was commendable that I feel that way. But he said he wants me to work on getting a testimony of the law of chastity.
I’m still trying. But I would like all Mormons to get a testimony of the
beauty and sacredness of the human body in the full sense, not in their
limited sex-outside-of marriage-is-bad sense.
This Saturday morning after “Abdul” took me to breakfast, he brought me to a Bedouin shop that his brother co-managed. His brother, “Mahmoud,” spoke nearly perfect English. Mahmoud told me Abdul had told him I was Mormon and a journalism student. I told Mahmoud I was writing about nonviolent resistance and asked if I could talk with him about that. He told me, “I am against fighting and against danger, except in bed.”
So I knew this wouldn’t be an ordinary interview. Initially I tried to steer the conversation to my story topic, but he kept asking me questions, wanting to know about me, especially my being Mormon. He told me he had worked at the BYU Jerusalem Center twelve years ago, and even dated a Mormon girl for 18 months.
He asked about my dating life, and at first I only told him about “New,” the Indian from New Jersey I met at my swing party job, as that seemed the most normal of my dating (though of course none of my dating is normal). Somehow he deduced that I was not a typical Mormon girl and had mostly dated non-Mormons and had had sex outside of marriage. “So you’re a bad Mormon,” he said.
I was a little taken aback, because even though I may not follow all the commandments, I still have a very strong testimony of the Gospel and eventually I do plan on being completely faithful. Why would I have signed a contract otherwise stating that eventually I will be fully committed to the Lord?
However, as soon as I protested, he responded, “You break the rules, you’re a bad Mormon. It’s okay, my ex-girlfriend was a bad Mormon too, back then.”
Mahmoud calling me a “bad Mormon” released the secrets of my shadow life, and I spoke very frankly with him. I explained that even though I believe the LDS Church is true, I don’t understand the law of chastity, so I don’t keep it, though I plan to in the future.
I also told him that all my life I thought I was a lesbian and was only attracted to women. I told him this is why prostitution is easy for me because I could never imagine any woman wanting to have sex with a man unless she gets paid for it. I explained that I felt this way until I met Robert Hannibal, whom I met at my prostitution-like job, where I’m paid to have sex with the men who attend the swing party.
I even admitted that a couple years ago I was going to marry a Filipino guy just to get him to the States and to make me seem a somewhat normal Mormon by being married, since I’m an unmarried woman and that makes me not a normal Mormon. I told him how “Dan” and I had an agreement that if we got married, it would only be for a year, and I told Mahmoud that most of the time Dan and I did not have sex alone but rather in group settings. Love of orgies and women – that’s all Dan and I had in common.
I told Mahmoud I never enjoyed sex alone with a man before and always wanted women there to make it enjoyable for me, and that was why I liked orgies. I told him Robert Hannibal was the first man I ever enjoyed sex alone with, the first man I ever was attracted to, the first man I ever loved, the first man I ever made love to.
Mahmoud laughed and said that’s because I’d dated an Indian and a Filipino, and he said “they’re not real men.” He asked if I’d ever been with an Arab, and I said I had been with Arabs and they meant nothing to me, same as with every other man. I told him that through my job in college and my current job, in addition to my limited dating, I’ve been with hundreds of guys, that I’ve been with every single race, actually, and many different nationalities: black, white, Asian, Latin American, Iranian, Arab, Kurdish, Dominican, etc. Though I told him I wasn’t sure if I’d been with a Pacific Islander.
He asked what race Robert Hannibal is, and when I said he was from Jamaica, Mahmoud said that he’d heard black men are good in bed. I told him I’d been with many black men and none of them were any good; only Robert Hannibal is good. And I don’t consider Robert Hannibal black. Or any race. Robert Hannibal is in his own category.
Mahmoud asked what I like about sex with Robert Hannibal and I said I didn’t know how to explain it but I love sex with him so much. I love him so much I want to be as close as possible to him and the closest way is through sex. But during sex with every other guy I don’t feel anything (unless it hurts).
He asked if I ever orgasmed with Robert Hannibal and I told him I’d never orgasmed with any guy, only with women, but with Robert Hannibal I loved being with him so much that I didn’t need to orgasm. I feel so wonderful having sex with him. It’s the best feeling in the world, but it’s not an orgasm, it’s something else entirely.
He asked if Robert Hannibal had gone down on me, and I said yes, a few times, but I prefer to have him inside me because we’re closer that way. He asked how I feel when guys go down on me and I said, “again, nothing.” He asked what about when I go down on guys and I said I have done that, but I don’t like it.
I said, “In my job now, I don’t do anything – I don’t give hand-jobs or blow-jobs – I just have sex. I just receive, but I’ll receive any kind of sex – vaginal, oral, anal – it doesn’t matter.”
“I figured you out – you don’t want to do any work,” Mahmoud said. “You’re lazy.”
“You’re right,” I said. “And why should I work when I don’t need to? I don’t need to do anything at all, and they have a good time and they cum. So why should I do any work? I don’t need to and I don’t want to.”
He said he would take me to the King David Hotel. “I’ll treat you like a princess. I’ll do everything. You just lay there. You don’t need to do anything.”
“No. Journalists can’t do anything sexual with their sources – that’s unethical.”
“Don’t quote me in your article and I’m not a source.”
“Regardless, I’m not gonna do anything with you, or with anyone, while I’m here,” I said. “I’m here for a school trip. That’s all.”
I didn’t want to tell him that I only have sex for money because I was worried he may offer payment. I didn’t want that temptation. Besides, even though it was clear from our first moment of conversation that he was not going to be one of my sources for my story, I still considered him a source in the general sense of helping me get acquainted with Arab life in Jerusalem.
He asked if I wanted to marry Robert Hannibal, and I told him Robert Hannibal was already married. But I told Mahmoud I wanted to keep seeing Robert Hannibal even though I knew there was no future with him because this was my first time to like a guy, to love a guy, and I wanted to experience that. I’d only known what it was like to be a lesbian and I wanted to experience actually loving a man.
I said I was still mostly a lesbian because so far Robert Hannibal was the only guy I liked, but I liked him more than any of the women I’d dated, even the ones I was currently dating (as far as women, I’m really only seeing “Cinnamon” and “Desire” from my job). I said I hoped I could love another guy sometime in the future, and I didn’t want to live a lesbian life anymore like I used to when I was younger.
He told me of his friend who was a lesbian, and she didn’t want children (he seemed to think that all lesbians wanted to be childless). “It’s a good thing you’re not a lesbian anymore because children make everything worthwhile. If you don’t have children, what are you? What have you done in this life? You’ve done nothing. Children are everything and you could be the richest and most powerful leader in the world but if you have no children, you are nothing.”
“I completely agree,” and I tried to explain that even when I was living primarily a lesbian life and not seeing any men, I still wanted children in my future, but he kept going on. He was saying how he felt sorry for his lesbian friend and he was glad I was realizing how important it was to have kids before it was too late. “Children are your only legacy,” he said. “You are nothing without them. Life has no meaning without them.”
I loved seeing how passionate Mahmoud became discussing children. I didn’t ask if he had any. Come to think of it, I didn’t even ask if he was married. I didn’t even ask Abdul if he was married, though I don’t think so, since he took a photo of me and him together on his phone, and if he was married, his wife would likely see the photo (the photo was simply me and Abdul standing next to each other, but still, if he was married, I’m sure his wife wouldn’t like it, so I’m certain he’s not married).
We also discussed religion and politics in his beautiful shop. Religion, politics, and sexuality are my three favorite topics to discuss, but they can also be the most divisive. So I love meeting people who can discuss these subjects with me, and I really enjoyed talking with Mahmoud.
He introduced me to one of his business partners or co-workers, who asked if I was “a believer.” I said yes, and he smiled. I love the connection that believers have. We may have different ideas of God and the purpose of this life, etc. but the fact that we believe in God provides an immediate bond.
(I remembered how the night before, when I met Abdul, I met another Muslim shopkeeper also on Salaheddin Street who spoke very good English. We talked about God and when I told him I was Mormon, he told me about the BYU Jerusalem Center and he said he was impressed with how nice the students there were. We had a great little conversation – I love talking about religion and spirituality with people. And then I met Abdul, but I wish I would have gotten the other shopkeeper’s contact information. He told me he sells pictures near the Garden Tomb, but I didn’t have a chance to see him again before our class left Israel.)
I took pictures of Mahmoud’s beautiful shop inside and outside – my horrible photography skills were helped by the beautiful antiques and fabrics in the shop and the effect nightfall had on the shop outside. I met more of Mahmoud’s co-workers and spoke a little with them, and despite the language barriers, everyone was just so kind to me.
Mahmoud took me driving a little bit to see the city and we passed by the King David Hotel a few times – each time Mahmoud said, “Do you want to be a princess? You don’t have to do anything at all.” Each time I said no.
What men don’t understand is I get no pleasure out of having things done to me if I am not attracted to the person doing them to me – man or woman (though women do have a better touch). If I’m not attracted, there’s absolutely nothing that can be done to me to give me pleasure. Therefore, it is a waste of my time - even if I am just laying there - unless I am being paid.
But I didn’t want to keep reminding him that I’m a lesbian except for Robert Hannibal. So each time he made the suggestion, I just said “No.” He’s very nice and fun to talk with, but also persistent. But I’m glad I met him.
Our class just got back into the city today, and I am exhausted. Israel is beautiful, and we all wish we could have stayed longer. It was an amazing trip, with so much packed into such a short timeframe.
We each have to write a major feature story, and I’m writing about non-violent resistance. Not about whether it’s good, bad, needed, or even helpful, but simply about how it’s being done and who’s doing it. [A reporter] from the Global Post had suggested to our class that someone write on that topic, so I decided to.
I wanted a variety of perspectives, and had already spoken with some Israeli Jews and some Palestinian Christians and Muslims. Since we had free reporting time in Jerusalem this past Friday evening and Saturday during the day, I figured it would be a good time to interview Arabs, as most Jews would be observing Shabbat.
Friday night I walked along Salaheddin Street in East Jerusalem, where there were many Arab shopkeepers. I met “Abdul,” who spoke a little English and when I told him what I was writing about, he took me driving with a few of his friends. They took me to Sheikh Jarrah, where I had been last Friday for the protest, and showed me houses they said were “Arab houses, taken by Jews.”
As a journalist, I have to get each side’s perspective honestly and accurately, and of course, verify what people say, and still do my own research. But my story isn’t going to discuss who is right or wrong (or half-right or half-wrong), but how is non-violent protest carried out, etc.
But more than trying to help me with my story, my new Arab friends told me that they wanted me to have fun here, my last Friday night in Jerusalem. They took me up to Mount Scopus to see the view of the city at night. They showed me the BYU Jerusalem Center, since I told them I was Mormon.
Abdul and his friends kept asking me if I wanted to drink, and I would tell them no. Since I’m Mormon, they asked if that’s why I don’t drink, and they said they are Muslim, but they still drink! But I told them I’ve never had any interest in drinking regardless of my religion. They never pressured me to drink, but they said they didn’t want to be rude and drink in front of me, but I said it was fine, as long as the guy driving didn’t drink too much.
They wanted me to get the experience of Arabs in Israel, so they offered to show me around more neighborhoods, and they took me to get falafel sandwich. They wanted to pay for it and I thanked them but said that in journalism, I couldn’t accept free meals. They said they would be offended if I didn’t accept it. I again said I wanted to be ethical, but they said they would be deeply offended, and so I accepted the falafel.
This reminded me of last summer in 2010 when I was getting acquainted with my class reporting beat, and met the Arab owners of a grocery store in a predominantly black and Jewish neighborhood. The owners wanted to give me bottled water and make me a sandwich from their deli, and at first I thanked them but declined, then I finally accepted. I am aware of how hospitable are those in Arab lands, but I didn’t want to be unethical as a journalist. Each situation you have to just weigh. The grocery store owners were such gracious hosts, as were my new Arab friends in East Jerusalem.
After we ate, Abdul and his friends took me to a hookah bar. I was the only female in the entire place, but no one appeared bothered that I was there. My friends sat and played cards and smoked hookah, offering me some, though I declined. But I had fun just being around them. The owners of the hookah bar were very respectful, allowing me to use their own restroom (there were living quarters behind the customer area) instead of the customer restroom, since there was only one public restroom and all the customers were men.
The next morning Abdul took me to breakfast with one of his friends, and again I accepted breakfast after first refusing it. This friend, “Ahmad,” spoke very good English, so I was able to have more of a conversation with him. My conversations Friday night were limited with almost everyone I met, and indeed with Abdul, who was introducing me to everyone, because their English wasn’t strong and my Arabic is non-existent, unfortunately.
Nearly all the Arabs I spoke with were Israeli citizens, most of whom had Jordanian passports, but they told me they identified as Palestinian. Ahmad said flatly, “Palestinian in everything.”
I have studied but still don’t fully understand all of the dynamics, all the histories, of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. I know each side has its own narrative, and facts on the ground can get emphasized or diminished, depending on the objective.
However, in the simple part of my mind, I think that Arabs and Jews should most definitely be friends. Not least because Abraham is their common ancestor, through Ishmael for the Arabs and Isaac for the Jews. Though perhaps the close ties and diverging paths engender more enmity.
Whenever I think of Jews and Arabs, I’m reminded of the people in The Book of Mormon - the Nephites and the Lamanites. Brothers Nephi and Laman, sons of Lehi, an Israelite. They all emigrated from Jerusalem to “the promised land” – in the Americas. Laman and his brother Lemuel resented Nephi, who was the good boy, and tried to kill him. After their father died, Laman and Lemuel drove Nephi and their other brother Sam and their families out of “the land of their first inheritance.”
Thus the “Nephites” and “Lamanites” separated, and their descendants hated each other. Told from the Nephite perspective (and it would be interesting to read the Lamanite side), the Book of Mormon characters talk of the Lamanites believing the traditions of their fathers - that the Nephites hate the Lamanites, and so the Lamanites want to destroy the Nephites. After hundreds of years, the Lamanites killed off all the Nephites (except Moroni, who wrote the final pages of the Book of Mormon).
I don’t suggest that The Book of Mormon is analogous to the Israeli-Palestinian conflict – it’s not. For one thing, Nephi and Laman shared the same mother, but there are many more differences beyond that. And I’m not saying that one side represents the Jews and the other the Palestinians, or Arabs in general. But the similarity that always strikes me is that both sides, descendants of the same father, thought the other hated them.
Ahmad told me Saturday morning that “if you invite a Jewish person for coffee here, he would not come in.” Is that really true, or is that what they’ve been taught to think?
In another conversation with Ahmad, he said that if Israel ended the occupation and there were two states, “Israel would be more happy.” Now, I know it’s not as simple as that, as there are many issues regarding borders, etc., and I want Israel to be secure, but if all of that could be agreed upon, I think Ahmad is right.
Just as it’s better for each person to be on friendly terms with his neighbor, and each of us has to compromise as we navigate this social world, the same goes for nations. It’s in everyone’s interest and in every nation’s interest for all nations and people to be stable, secure, happy. Both the Israeli people and the Palestinian people need to compromise, and it’s in their own best interests to do so.
Plus, in my own experience, I’ve found that the more I get to know someone, the more I care for them. Yes, as we know people better we expose our deficiencies in a greater manner and we better know others’ quirks. But this vulnerability also allows us to humanize each other. To really want the best for each other.
I think most people are basically good, if flawed, people. Last week on our trip a member of Hamas spoke to our class. In his talk to us, he said he didn’t believe in killing innocent people, but reiterated the need for Palestinians to defend themselves from their enemy (Israel). As one who remembers reading with horror about suicide bombings during the Second Intifada, which truly haunted and angers me to this day, even, I knew as a journalist I still needed to listen to all sides, even though I will never condone anyone encouraging someone to be a suicide bomber and kill innocent civilians.
I had a very good, rational, enjoyable conversation with him after his speech, and I got his contact information so I could meet with him for lunch next time I’m in Israel. I recalled how, minutes earlier in his speech to our class, he had tried to deflect a question from one of my classmates about whether he thought the Holocaust happened or not, and finally admitted that he thought it did happen, but he didn’t know if 600 people or 6 million people were killed. Somehow it seemed that it was preferable for him to ignore facts in order to keep his ideology strong.
Everyone on this trip has been a joy for me to speak with. We met rabbis, Palestinian priests and nuns, Muslim Sheikhs, a Qadi (Sharia law judge – Israel has Sharia courts for Muslims) in Jerusalem, many everyday citizens in Israel, Jewish and Arab, many people in the West Bank, and a Palestinian Christian non-profit leader who is probably the most compassionate man I’ve ever met in my entire life.
I’m of many minds. But I am not naïve and I know some people hate others simply because of their race or nationality or religion. I know some countries hate other countries. And I know fault is not equal in all situations – there are often truly aggressors and victims, and sometimes they switch places.
I don’t have any answers but I can honestly say I generally like most people (some people annoy me, and some people I like more than others!). But even people I don’t like as much I don’t want bad things to happen to them. I really want the best for everyone. That includes me.
How does this end? I don’t know, but I know how I don’t want it to.
I will always remember seeing the Gap Khaki Go-Go commercial in the late ‘90s. Usually when watching dancers, I only notice the females. Not just because I think women are beautiful and more visually appealing than men, but I also think women are better and more interesting dancers.
When I saw the Gap Go-Go commercial, I loved it immediately for two reasons. One, the music. It was the first time I’d ever heard James Clarke’s “Blow Up a Go-Go (Wild Elephants)” and I was in love with that music. I could not get enough.
But even more, the man in the center was amazing. My eyes drew to him and did not see anyone else. He was such a captivating dancer, with such charisma. And the way he looked at the camera in the beginning was so powerful that I could not look away from him. When he briefly disappeared offscreen, I hoped he would reappear soon. I was so surprised that a man could take over my attention that I, a lesbian, did not even see any of the women.
I couldn’t understand how this dancer affected me so much. I was not attracted to him (for me, attraction means I want to kiss the person, etc.), and I didn’t want to kiss him or anything. I wondered if he was gay, though I hated to stereotype him as gay just because he was a dancer. But my lack of sexual attraction for him did not negate from the electricity I felt when he danced. I wanted to continue to watch him dance. And only him.
Fourteen years later, and someone recently happened to mention old commercials and music from the ‘90s. I thought of the Gap Go-Go commercial. Finding it on youtube, I saw that the man in the center still affected me in the same way. Through the wonders of the Internet, I was able to find out his name, Kevin Stea. Since I love giving compliments (though I cannot give false compliments), I sent him the following email:
hi kevin, i just feel i should tell you that over a decade ago when the gap go-go commercial came out, i was transfixed by your performance. normally i only notice women in dance groups, for i’m lesbian. but when that commercial came out, you had such charisma, not to mention the most captivating dance performance, that i only noticed you in the whole group. i was often amazed throughout the years that there was a male dancer that could draw me away from all the females, not in an attraction-based way, but due to the power and charisma that this man had.
recently someone was talking about the gap commercials from the 90’s and i remembered the gap go-go commercial, and looked it up on youtube. again, i was loving your performance and, again, i only saw you! so i wanted to know you are!
i even asked a question on yahoo answers to find out and saw that someone had already asked this question in 2007:
< Lead male dancer from Gap “Khaki-a-Go-Go” commercial?
What is the name of the lead male dancer in the “Khaki-a-Go-Go” Gap commercial from 1998? He’s the guy in the black t-shirt with dark, curly hair who is the star at the beginning of the commercial and fades into the chorus of dancers. I think he was also in the Gap vests commercial from around the same time.
Best Answer - Chosen by Asker Kevin Stea? • 6 years ago • Report Abuse
Asker’s Rating: Asker’s Comment: Thanks. I found some Kevin Stea fansites and now I’m pretty sure he’s the right guy.
Other Answers Don’t know, but he was HOT! • 6 years ago • >
Then, when i went back to the youtube clip, i saw in the comments section that others noticed you particularly as well:
Agreed re: the man in the center. Normally the women in any dance group hold my attention but in this ad, the man in the center has so much charisma and dance power that he is the only one I notice.
polly olga yobek 1 day ago
i love the man in the center
shogokawahara 2 years ago
What is the name of the dancer in the center at the beginning with the curly hair? He’s really good!!
bellier 3 years ago
He really is, and cute too! :P
ekomancer in reply to bellier 3 years ago
Kevin Stae. He’s toured with Madonna, walked runway for CK, Tommy, Coultier, and was in “Naked Boys Singing” if you want to see…ahem…More of him :-P
ruggeddusty in reply to bellier 3 years ago
Oh god… this is already 10 years old?!?!? I’m feeling my age. Gotta love the Fosse-esque choreography and wow Kevin Stea?!?! sweet
Earthmage 4 years ago
who is Kevin Stea? is he the guy in the first part…looks Asian?
maryquant1967 in reply to Earthmage (Show the comment) 3 years ago
Yep! That’s the one.
Earthmage in reply to maryquant1967 3 years ago
maryquant1967 in reply to Earthmage 3 years ago
if youre talking about the guy in the middle its kevin stea-he was in newsies! LOVE him. hes in a show called naked boys singing right now…. :)
FallKABOOM in reply to Ratdog93 (Show the comment) 4 years ago
Kevin Stea is asian.. the cute boy in the middle isn’t..
Ratdog93 in reply to FallKABOOM (Show the comment) 4 years ago
well the one in the middle is definitely kevin stea…it’s for sure.
momoprincessxo in reply to Ratdog93 (Show the comment) 4 years ago
does anyone know the name of the cute main male dancer??
Ratdog93 4 years ago
if you’re refering to the one with the big hair in the middle he was one of madonna’s dancers. he was in her Truth or Dare movie. he was also a dancer in the movie Showgirls but had just a few lines in it. but i don’t know his name. he’s a great dancer though. total flamer but hey….
nobhiller in reply to Ratdog93 4 years ago
I absolutely love Kevin Stea! He’s such a talented guy!
wannabesurfahgirl 6 years ago
Funny thing is that Kevin is also in the Austin Powers movie doing about the same dance moves during the opening credits…
choitoy57 in reply to wannabesurfahgirl 5 years ago
I’ve always got my eyes locked on that male dancer in the center. Man, he is cuuute! mikey42 5 years ago >
So I just wanted to share this with you to let you know that your appearance in that Gap commercial stayed with me all these many years, and obviously with others too! I think it’s pretty amazing that one person in one commercial can have such a lasting impact for so many people, so i just want to let you know.
Now I’ve read of some of the other work that you are doing and i’m even more impressed with how extremely talented you are. i wish you all the best in your future endeavors, and thank you for being the wonderful dancer that you are!
I am still amazed that a male dancer had such an effect on me that I never forgot it.
Fred Willard has always been one of my favorites. I first became a fan while watching the talk show parody “Fernwood 2 Night” (which later changed its title to “America 2-Night”) on Nick at Nite with my brother.
Martin Mull, who played the host of the fictional late night talk show, was so funny, truly great, but Fred Willard was, if possible, even better. Perfect. He was mine and my brother’s favorite part of the already hysterical show.
Fred Willard has shown his amazing comedic talents in everything he’s been in. He was my favorite part of “A Mighty Wind,” and I loved that entire movie and every song. I even faithfully watched a show that no one else saw, called “Maybe It’s Me,” simply because Fred Willard played the dad. He was, of course, hilarious in the role.
Obviously, I’m writing about Fred Willard at this time because he was recently arrested for “engaging in a lewd act” at Tiki Theatre in California. Now, it is no surprise that people go to Tiki Theatre to watch porn and masturbate. That is known.
So why would cops waste their valuable time arresting someone who may have been masturbating at a porn theater? Don’t they have better things to do, real crimes to investigate?
Yes, I know that under California Penal Code 647, it is against the law to publicly engage in lewd acts. Presumably such a law is in place to protect the larger public from being subjected to such a lewd act. However, is a porn theater really considered a public place where lewd acts would be offensive to those in such a venue?
Anyone who is offended by someone masturbating likely would not go to a theater that shows porn. Whether Mr. Willard did or did not “engage in a lewd act” at the theater (and given that no one else was arrested, the only lewd act that comes to mind is masturbation), is not important. He was at a porn theater. Who cares if he was masturbating? Isn’t that what people do at porn theaters? Or should do, at any rate?
Police arresting someone masturbating at a porn theater reminds me of my jobs in the sex industry, where there’s frequently the nervous undercurrent of fear of an undercover cop showing up and busting everyone.
But that should not be a fear. Voluntary sex work, especially in the controlled indoor venues where I’ve worked, should be legalized. No one in the public space is affected, for the sex all happens indoors.
Anyone paying to attend a sex party knows that they are likely to see sex acts performed, and most people expect to actually participate. They may not realize that we girls are paid to have sex with the party attendees, but it doesn’t matter. No one is harmed by what goes on at these parties. There is no reason for me and the other girls to have to worry that we could be arrested merely for having sex for money.
Likewise, anyone should lawfully be able to freely masturbate in a porn theater. The movies shown in a porn theater would not be shown at your corner AMC theater. And the customers at a porn theater understand that – they are paying for porn.
Somehow this country’s laws need to evolve when it comes to matters of sex.
Regardless, Fred Willard, the gifted comedian, will now likely always have this pointless and stupid arrest tied to his name, even if he is later cleared. Truly, I’m ashamed that he was arrested for something so ridiculous, something that should not even be a crime.
In examining my love for Robert Hannibal, I’m also examining my lesbianism. How can I be a lesbian if I love Robert Hannibal so much?
In an earlier entry, I declared that I wasn’t a lesbian because I was in love with a man. But I don’t know if that’s really true. Although I love Robert Hannibal, I still find women very attractive. And I still don’t find men attractive. Except for Robert Hannibal.
However, if I had met Robert Hannibal when I was younger, as a teenager, I probably wouldn’t consider myself a lesbian. I would rightly understand that I had met the most perfect man in the whole world, and even if I couldn’t be with him forever, how could I settle for any other guy, when no other guys measure up to Robert Hannibal?
But I didn’t meet him then.
Now, at a very young age, I understood the power that boys had to raise your social status, that it was a bragging matter to say how many boys had crushes on you. But also at a very young age, I had legitimate crushes on teenage girls. They were so beautiful to me.
In purely aesthetic terms, I didn’t, and don’t, see how anyone could prefer men to women. The ideal female body, an hourglass, is pleasing to the eyes. The ideal male body, which is broad-shouldered and angular, can’t really compare. Who wants to gaze at such a plain and boring body, let alone touch it?
And even so, most men don’t even have the ideal body, so they’re at an even further deficit. I know it’s not men’s fault that the mold of the male body just doesn’t allow for beauty the way the female body does, but it doesn’t mean I have to like it.
But what really attracts me in others is the face. I love faces. Simply put: the average female face is always better-looking than the average male face. In a heterosexual couple, the female is nearly always better-looking than the male.
(I say “nearly” because of the unusual circumstance of Brad Pitt. Pitt, who I can tell is very good-looking, but I’m not attracted to him, has always been better-looking than his female partners – Juliette Lewis, Gwyneth Paltrow, Jennifer Aniston – until Angelina Jolie. Jolie is Pitt’s first partner to be better-looking than him. She is the perfect partner for him because she is better-looking than everyone on this planet).
Suffice it to say most men don’t even come close to what isn’t even an attractive ideal in the first place, in body or face. But it is one thing to be a neutral zero on a scale of attractiveness in comparison to women, who are on the positive side of the attractiveness scale. It is quite another to be on the negative side of the scale, and, unfortunately, most men are on this side.
This is because men are disgusting. It’s not their fault. The hormones and chemicals that form the human male do not make for a person that smells or looks good. Men give off disgusting odors all the time, especially when exercising and during and after sex, in ways that women do not. And men grunt, especially during exercise and sex, in the most unappealing way. Quite unattractive.
On the whole, I do not like artificial scents or perfumes, and I prefer no smell, or just a fresh, clean smell, but some perfume for women I like (though I never wear perfume myself). But cologne, on the other hand, always smells horrible. I have never smelled a cologne that didn’t make me want to escape for some fresh air. Men just need to stay extra-clean and fresh to keep their natural awful odors at bay and not mask them with cologne – such camouflage attempts just make everything worse.
In terms of sexual organs, the male sex organ could not be more disgusting. I hate the names for it, I hate the way it looks, I hate touching it (and haven’t for years, thank goodness), I hate having it inside me. But I would rather have it inside me than touch it, which is why intercourse (vaginal or anal) is not a big deal for me at Onie’s club, but I refuse to give hand-jobs or blow-jobs. Why would I want to touch something so ugly, especially with my mouth?
One of the ugliest images I have ever seen was from a porno magazine that some kid in my elementary school had brought to school. It was a picture of a beautiful blonde woman with red lipstick whose lovely mouth was up against some guy’s ugly, hairy, disgusting sex organ. It was so repulsive. I could not understand why women would do that, except for money.
Yes, even in elementary school I could understand prostitution.
I contrast this experience with the images of naked women I loved looking at in elementary school. Our babysitter’s dad had “Playboy” magazines and I loved looking at the pictures in “Playboy” when I was at their house.
But it wasn’t just naked women I loved looking at. Any pictures of beautiful women. I loved reading “TV Guide,” and looked forward to the annual contest for the most beautiful women on TV. Although I was only in elementary school, I read my parents’ “TV Guide,” “Time” magazine, and the metro newspaper faithfully. Partly I loved reading the news, but I especially loved the entertainment sections. And I really loved reading about actresses and seeing their pictures.
Although my appreciation for women and disgust for men began when I was young, I wasn’t a man-hater at such a young age. I even told my two sisters that we were going to grow up and marry three brothers, and I chose the best-looking one for myself. But their teenage sister was the best-looking of them all.
As I grew older, I started getting jealous of guys for the power they held over girls. I thought it unfair that guys could kiss girls, who were so beautiful, but I, as a girl, could not. I really started resenting guys. I almost hated them. And I hated that I had to pretend to have crushes on guys so I could bond with my friends and seem normal.
Then gradually I started having more compassion towards men, and feeling sorry for them for being so inferior to women in looks and complexity. When I worked my hostess dancing job my last semester of college, I felt a strange mixture of deepened disgust at men but also heightened pity towards them.
I began to think that if a man ever got me to orgasm, and if I could have a real sexual dream about a man (not like my Marilyn Monroe threesome dream I had as a young teen where the man disappeared), I would then be attracted to men and wouldn’t be a lesbian anymore. Such a dream would demonstrate real sexual attraction towards men. But these scenarios have not happened.
As a Mormon who overall wants to live my religion, I wondered if I would just have to learn to tolerate a man for marriage. I didn’t think it would be too hard. Although I still think men are disgusting and not aesthetically pleasing, I do greatly appreciate men’s wit and humor, and I prefer typical “men’s music” to the music most of my girl friends like. Most of all, conversation is extremely important to me, and I do really enjoy conversations with men and being around them. That is pretty much how I’ve felt ever since.
Until I met Robert Hannibal.
When I first saw him, I thought he was so handsome and attractive. I consider people attractive if I want to kiss them and hold them, and I’ve never felt that for a man before. But the night I met Robert Hannibal, I felt attraction for him immediately and immensely. And when we had sex, which, of course, was soon after I met him because it was at my job at Onie’s club, I was completely mesmerized. I had finally had good sex with a man. I finally made love to a man.
He hasn’t made me orgasm, and I haven’t yet had a sexual dream about him. But I love him so much that I don’t need those things.
So what is it about Robert Hannibal that makes him so different from every other man I’ve met?
First, it’s his looks. I don’t like white men and I don’t like black men, and I always felt the first man I would be attracted to would have brown skin, and I figured he would be Polynesian or South Asian or some mixture of that. Some race that wouldn’t be likely to have facial hair or body hair, since I can’t stand that, but also who wouldn’t be likely to go bald, since I don’t like baldness, and used to actually be afraid of it.
Robert Hannibal is from Jamaica, so he’s black, but he doesn’t have African features, which I’m not attracted to (though my ex-girlfriend “Dee” was very dark with definite African features and I was very attracted to her! Who can predict?).
His skin is beautiful and brown and his body is smooth and basically hairless, though he has some curly chest hair (sometimes he shaves it), but his chest hair is not disgusting like most men’s. Also, he doesn’t have hair around his sex organ, so it’s not disgusting for me to look at (though I haven’t touched it and won’t).
His face is really so handsome, and cute and endearing. He has a slight underbite and a nearly invisible goatee, but his facial hair is so faint it’s not disgusting, like most men’s, and sometimes he shaves it. Ironically, although I don’t like baldness, Robert Hannibal’s hairline recedes a little, which makes him look like he has a high forehead. Yet on him, it looks adorable and handsome. His hair is curly and soft but slightly coarse at the same time.
His smile is so cute. It’s not a broad smile or a smile that one may typically think of as an amazing smile, but it’s so cute on him with his cute underbite. Whether his teeth show or not, his smile is so cute. He is just so cute in every way. He’s probably in his late 30’s, but his skin is so smooth, it’s flawless.
I always thought I would like a man with strong, black eyebrows and dark, beautiful eyes, but Robert Hannibal has faint eyebrows and his eyes wouldn’t stand out for their beauty. But because his eyes are part of him, they are so beautiful.
He’s not really tall, maybe 5’8 or 5’9, and again, I always thought the first man I liked would be tall. His shoulders are rounded and his upper arms are short, like mine. He has a minor belly, but it’s firm. Since I mostly see Robert Hannibal at Onie’s, where he, like all the guys, wears a towel around his waist, he really looks like an Islander.
Everything about him is beautiful, even his ugly sex organ, because it’s part of him. I remember the second night I saw him at Onie’s, I bitterly watched “Kayla,” the older white woman in her 40’s, having sex with him. It hurt me too much to look at Robert Hannibal’s face or his body, but I watched his feet. They’re beautiful. When he orgasmed, I remember his feet shaking, because sometimes he has full-body orgasms. When he full-body orgasms, it feels amazing to have him inside me. I am so in love with him.
We have undeniable sexual chemistry, but we also have connecting chemistry. We can talk about anything. He is so intelligent. And he’s not pretentious at all. He went to [Ivy League school] and now works in finance so I know he has money, but he doesn’t flaunt it. He doesn’t treat anyone rudely. He always makes sure to tip “Bartender” (though I’m sure it’s also because he finds her attractive – she’s Japanese and she’s so sweet and she always wears very sexy outfits).
Conversation with him flows so easily, and his words are elegant. He uses graceful language, not in a condescending manner, but just in a natural manner. He’s so intelligent he can’t hide it, as his beautiful words fall eloquently from his beautiful mouth.
And he’s such a gentleman. The second night I met him (third time having sex with him) and he walked me to the subway after I got off work at Onie’s, he made sure to walk on the outside, closest to the street. He told me his mother always taught him to do that to be protective of the woman at his side. Most times when I’m walking with him, he always walks around me to be on the street side, and he’ll mention again his mother teaching him that. I love that he has such respect for his mother and learned so much from her. I love that he’s a gentleman.
When we’ve taken the subway together to get to the “bi club” in Brooklyn, he’s always very respectful of others as well as of me. It’s such a contrast to other men I see on the subway who are not gentlemen at all.
This afternoon, in fact, the subway was so crowded, it was standing-room-only, and I had to hold on to the railing above my head. I saw so many women standing and I thought if there were any able-bodied men sitting down, they should offer their seats so some of the women could sit. I looked down the subway car and saw [my bearded condescending professor, the one] who had come to mind after I prayed to the Lord and promised to be chaste and would marry whoever He wanted me to marry.
[My condescending professor] looked up at me right as I saw him and I shook my head at him. He’s not a gentleman. Robert Hannibal is. Robert Hannibal would have given up his seat.
Not only is Robert Hannibal a gentleman, but he has an easy-going, sweet demeanor while at the same time being a strong, manly man. I don’t know how he can be both, but he is. He is most definitely a MAN. But he’s so kind too.
And I love his humor. He’s not a clown but he has a nice, easy-going humor. He’s so intelligent and we get along so well and so easily that we laugh effortlessly with each other. We really have such good conversations with each other. We talk religion, politics, sexuality. Those topics are my favorite topics of conversation, but many people steer away from such charged subjects.
Yet Robert Hannibal and I thrive on such conversations. I always have such enjoyable conversations with him. I love talking with him. His voice itself is just the right timbre. Most men’s voices are annoying. They speak either too high or too low or have annoying cadences or laughs. But not Robert Hannibal. His voice is just the right tone, the right color. I love listening to him.
I love hugging him. I love sitting on his lap. I love kissing him. I love making love to him and having him make love to me. I love being with him. And he’s a man. And I would rather be with him than with anyone else in the entire world. Even a woman.
So am I lesbian if I feel this strongly and deeply for a man? In my first grad school program, I tried to write my thesis on women as beauty-seekers, which is why they end up with other women. It’s not about being lesbian, it’s about wanting beauty. And women are beautiful.
I wondered if all women are like this, but most other women have been socialized to find men attractive, because men can provide for us. This wasn’t how I always felt – growing up, I felt alone and different. But as I aged and especially after college and in my first grad program, I really began to wonder if all women were like me, but somehow I had missed out on the socialization to find men attractive. That’s when I wrote “Jack, Jane and Jill.”
Maybe if I hadn’t been so concerned with beauty I could have found boys attractive? Maybe if I hadn’t wanted to compare boys and girls? Women are the fairer sex, so is it even right to compare?
Perhaps I’m trying too hard to find a reason for my life-long lesbianism and for my current love for a man. I want a nice, pat answer, but maybe there isn’t one.
At any rate, Robert Hannibal is the first man I find attractive, and so far, the only. I guess the possibility was always there within me, and Robert Hannibal is the one who brought it out of me.
Part of me wants to tell him, but part of me is afraid to. That’s a lot of responsibility to give to someone. Especially someone who’s already married.
I am getting so desperate. I haven’t seen Robert Hannibal since the time we went to the “bi club” on Feb. 17th, and we haven’t communicated since then. I emailed him on March 2nd to ask if he ever heard back from the tantra place, and he didn’t respond. Then I emailed him earlier today to ask if there was any way I could see him before I leave for Israel – he still hasn’t responded! And I leave on Wednesday!
Tomorrow I’ll work my regular Tuesday night shift at Onie’s club, and I hope Robert Hannibal is there. I really don’t know what I will do if I don’t see him before I leave for my trip. If I don’t see him before my trip I will be anxious the entire time! I love him so much!
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