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Reijers World: The Big Apple

by Reijer Breed in Columns & Opinions , 05 december 2015

Dit artikel is ook in het Nederlands beschikbaar

I was twenty-eight-years-old and treated myself to eight days in New York. I was so nervous when I boarded the plane that I had earned a scotch. In front of me was a nice girl. Violet from Rotterdam. “First, I am going to New York for four days, and then I’m flying to Los Angeles to visit a friend,” she said. We felt a connection and kept talking, when all of a sudden my neighbor said: “Shall I change seats with her?,” which he did. Violet sat next to me.

“I have a room at the YMCA. Why don’t you tag along?,” I asked. “Well,” she answered, “I would like that, but will there be place for me?” “Let’s just find out,” I said. At the airport, we took a taxi to Manhattan. The YMCA was extremely full, but luckily there was a single available on the same floor I was staying. Our rooms were very basic - a cabinet, a bed, a chair and a television. The communal showers were in the hall. After taking a shower, I dressed and went over to Violet. By now, she had unpacked and we went into town.

We felt so small under all those skyscrapers, but we quickly got used to it. We took a yellow cab to Washington Square, and somewhat later, we were on a terrace in New York’s gay district. Violet was getting a lot of attention from passing ladies, as I was getting from several men. We had a lot to talk about, she was good company. “Shall we order a salad here? I’m getting hungry.” “Good idea,” Violet said. Sometime later, two gigantic salads were brought to us.

“I saw in one of my gay guides that there’s a bar called ‘Cowboys and Cowgirls.’ Shall we have a look?,” I asked. Sometime later, a giggling Violet was on the edge of the curb hailing a cab. A taxi stopped immediately, and the driver knew the bar. We entered a bar with just men and boys. There wasn’t a Cowgirl in sight. But luckily, this posed no problem for Violet, as before long, she was talking to some men. I also joined in with a group. “So, you are from Europe? And you just arrived?,” a handsome man with a moustache asked me. “Why not come to my house and tell me all about Holland?” But that was a bit too quick, and I didn’t want to abandon Violet.

The next day, we decided to go sightseeing by circle bus. We saw most of Manhattan, except that in China Town, we could not find the bus in time. We were late, and people were upset. But they did wait for us. After four days, I took Violet and her luggage to a bus station. She would take the bus to the airport from there. “Honey,” I said. “Have a great flight to LA, and I hope to see you again in the Netherlands.” “Same here,” she said. We kissed goodbye, and after the bus had left, I realized that I was all alone in that big city.

I walked back to Washington Square and found a rather obscure little cinema. I bought a ticket. And of course, there was a large dark room. I looked at a young man, and he followed me into a cubicle.

“My name is Jeffrey and I like you,” he whispered in my ear. We undressed and kissed. Jeffrey was big, but it turned out he was only twenty-one. All of a sudden we heard: “Psssst.” Through the glory-hole, I saw a black man crouched down. We took turns sticking our cocks in the hole and got a great blow job. After a while, I took Jeffrey back to my hotel. During the day, you could bring people. Sometime later he was sleeping in my arms, and we took a nap. I would see Jeffrey several times during this holiday.

A couple of days later, I decided to go to the Stonewall Inn. I had read so much about this bar. In 1969 it was here that transvestites, gay men and lesbians were fighting the hostile and homophobic police for the first time. The bar was still popular. Downstairs there was a large bar, and the dance floor was upstairs. An Italian-American approached me. “Hi, my name is Gino. Like to dance?”

He took off his shirt and put it in the back pocket of his jeans. I followed suit. The DJ was playing a song by Andy Gibb, the youngest brother of Barry, Robin and Maurice. It was the slow dance song “Man on Fire.” Soon, we were dancing close together:

There – Is no live
No reason to go on believing in the stronger one
There is no unifying. If I don’t hear you crying.
I’m yours, you’re mine, no power in the world
Together we are strong in love.
And when your storm is over. I’ll show how warm
My love can be
I am a man on fire

“I’m at the Washington Square Hotel. Wanna come? It’s only around the corner.” I was keen, so I nodded yes. His hotel and room were much nicer than the YMCA. In his room, I saw that there was a bottle of poppers ready on the night stand. Sometime later, we were having sex, naked. I just wanted his ass. Horny Gino moaned, and it was a wonderful and exciting night.

At the plane back, I saw Manhattan disappearing, and I was so happy I hadn’t fallen in love. I went back to my boyfriend Lefert. I was curious how he would react to my gifts, and whether he wanted to hear it or not, I was going to tell him everything.

* Andy Gibb was an addict for a long time. He died just turned thirty, on March 10, 1988.



In the New Issue of Gay News, 323, July 2018

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