Still trying to find ways to meet people apart from the artificial, often cold scene of cruisy gay bars, I joined a bear social group. Among the occasional dinners or movie nights, one of the group members announced he would host a backyard “bear-becue” cookout at his house on an upcoming Sunday afternoon.
I RSVP’d, and on the day, I rode my bike there, hoping that since it was a warm day, I might get noticed if I arrived looking hot and sweaty. As far as I could tell, no one noticed my sweatiness when I arrived.
The party was already going so I locked my bike and said hi to the host, grabbing a beer from a cooler inside the house and coming back outdoors to stand around and maybe meet new guys. I really didn’t know many of the people there but I greeted the few I recognized from somewhere. I went back in for another beer.
People continued to arrive and soon the yard was fairly full of bearded men laughing and talking in little groups. When the burgers and other cook-out foods were ready, I got in line with a plate, took a burger and potato chips, and sat down on the blankets provided for those of us comfortable sitting on the ground.
Looking around while I ate, I noticed one bear in particular, farther down the row of us ground-sitters, leaning back and looking my way. I did a double-take and smiled. He smiled back. Yep, definitely leaning back and looking my way.
I went on sitting and eating, and when I got up to get more chips, I deliberately walked around by Smiling Bear and said hi. He said hi back and asked if I was having a good time and grinned. He said his name was Kevin.
Kevin and I hung out together for a while at the bear-becue, chatting about let’s do something sometime. We traded phone numbers before the party broke up and I biked home.
I met Kevin at his apartment a couple of weeks later. We didn’t just jump into bed but instead went for a walk-and-talk around his neighborhood. Kevin was kind, gentle, smart, and apparently interested in lots of things I liked, like movies or going to the Smithsonian. (One of the great things about living in DC is the Smithsonian Institution. It’s vast, free, and makes for a great neutral date.) I’m sure we ended up back at his place, got out of our clothes, cuddled, and shared orgasms.
Even more memorably, Kevin also turned out to be a good dancer, much better than me. Although I had tried two-stepping several times, I just could not get the hang of it enough so the lop-sided motion came naturally.
Despite my ineptitude, we went out dancing several times at Remingtons, a country-western bar on DC’s Capitol Hill. I did my best to two-step, letting him lead; more often Kevin danced with others as good as himself. Kevin also line-danced and liked it when they played The Escape Club’s “Wild, Wild West.” Even now when I hear this song, I see Kevin stomping and twirling and having fun. At the same time, I learned from Kevin the fine art of cruising the room for others, even when out with someone.
I ended up dating Kevin for a few months and we had safe sex in the usual, various ways. I also learned from Kevin about cruising other guys, which he did a lot whenever we were out. But eventually we called it quits in a nice way and we let it go; eventually I introduced Kevin to a friend of mine with whom he seemed to hit it off. I continued to see Kevin around DC for many years.