CONFESSIONS FROM A TUBE SOCK CIRCA 1979...
As I am want to do while engaging in conversations with my friends I pursued a better understanding of us all by asking when we each discovered the magical powers of masturbation. Being my friends, no one was at all ashamed or afraid to discuss in detail. So, it was very interesting.

I discovered that I was a bit late in the game. I have already written about when my Gay Little Heart found its way to an erection. ...While watching Kris Kristofferson romp about sans clothes with Babs in A STAR IS BORN. I was a little kid. I was frightened and had to ask for an explanation from my 70's mom (who was at my side watching the film in a sold out cinema)

However, it would be several years before I discovered to what an erection could lead me to.

For me, I was about 13 years old. I was in the tub reading "Rolling Stone" --- I can remember spending more time than was required looking at the cover photo of Robin Williams. I remember being worried that I was getting the newsprint wet. Yeah. Am I the only one old enough to remember when Rolling Stone was a newspaper type magazine?!?! Anyway, I placed the magazine down on the yellow tile floor next to the tub. Yes, I had an erection. By this time I thought nothing of it. I was not ashamed or embarrassed but I knew to be discreet. My mother was quite sex positive until she decided to go thru a Born Again phase which lasted a horrible 5 years --- but that, my friends, is a whole other story and decade.

This was 1979 and Mom was still listening to Elton John.

Anyway, back to my discovery of the Big O. I had to raise up on my knees to reach the soap. Ivory Soap, I might add. As I reached up for the soap the hot water poured down, um, on me. Well, this gush of hot water created a favorable sin-sa-tion. I remember staying fixed with the water running full force on, um, me. I remember turning to my left and glancing down at Mork on the cover of The Rolling Stone. ...and, I will never forget the feeling that took me over. My thighs felt like they were giving 'way. I had to turn away from the lovely picture and hold my palms out in front of me against the tiles. I came.

I fell back into the water sending a wave of soapy water over the tub and on to the floor and fully drenching the magazine which had led me to such pleasure. Pleasure. Well, to be honest. I was also quite frightened. I remember thinking that I must have somehow gotten soap inside me. What was that stuff?!?!?

Well, this brought me to another conversation with my mom. Luckily, she didn't use any of the posters on my wall as visual pointers. (and I did not tell her of the Robin Williams picture) ...she seemed to be fairly sure I was gay anyway.

She always blamed Barbra Streisand. Granted. It was odd for a 4 year old to become obsessed with Barbra Streisand. She felt I played "The Wet" LP way more than was necessary. Oh well. I think she still might blame Babs for my being gay. Anyway, she explained that the stuff was sperm and all normal. Actually, she had explained sex to me over and over again. I think she was a bit annoyed. I remember her pinning up her hair as she was getting ready for a swim, "You came. That's all. No big deal. I've got get going" --- and, with that she picked up my baby brother and they tailed it to the pool where she would flirt with the guy who owned a local record store. Sadly, she never followed thru on the flirting and re-married my orge of a father. But, once again, that is a whole different blog.

Within a few months I had discovered the pleasures that could be added with the aid of my Grandmother's Vasoline.
I spent a lot of time with her in Houston. I would hang out at her pool and watch her hot gay neighbors swim in the apartment complex pool. One was a hair stylist and the other was about to become a doctor. The stylist had hair just like John Travolta from the BOY IN THE PLASTIC BUBBLE days and his lover had his hair really short like a new wave singer. I would not go swimming with them because, well, they rather excited the 13 year old in me. I think they knew. I remember both of them asking me about the movies and music I liked. The punk looking-soon-to-be-doctor attempted to explain that Elton John's "Tiny Dancer" was actually about Elton's penis. (it was only recently that I realized what he was talking about) ...Anyway, I kept trying to steer the conversation away from things gay to things like weed, Pink Floyd, The Who and Led Zep (all of which I had become a bit of an expert) ...but they only wanted to pry into me about being possibly queer.

"Matty, have you heard the 12" version of 'No More Tears'?"
"Do you like Ted's wife beater? Do you want one?"
"Come on in and swim! Did you want to cry at the end of 'A Star Is Born'?"

...my answer to these questions was really "yes" but I always said "no" before giving myself away.

One of them asked me if I liked to play with my tube sock. I remember I was wearing my blue gym shorts with matching tube socks. When I asked what he meant they both laughed. My Grandmother was inside baking cookies. The stylist told me that he used to jerk off into his gym socks.

About 3 minutes later filled with thoughts of my Grandmother's gay neighbors in their tiny jean cut-offs which were acting as swim trunks --- I was locked in my Grandmother's powder blue bathroom. Lying on her blue carpet, my feet pushed against her blue toilet and my head jammed against the blue door. I scooped out a large portion of her Vaseline and inserted into one of my tube socks. I then slid the sock over, um, me. I closed my eyes. Moved my hand around my sock and, well --- let's just say my thighs/knees gave out a lot that summer.

1979. Me, my tube sock, a glob of Vaseline and a blue bathroom. Sigh. Oh, the joys of self-discovery. Sure, over the course of the years I've done my share of exploration and continue to do so. But, there is some thing magical about discovering what joys can come from within and spring from out the mind.

God bless Robin Williams --- and my Grandmother's gay neighbors where ever they all might be. Hmmmm....