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- Dec 21, 2007
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Something most, if not all, gay men who came out after 1980 probably never had the chance to enjoy were The Tubs -- or baths, steam rooms, or whatever they were known as colloquially where you lived. Almost every city in the world had one or more of them that were exclusive enclaves for clandestine sexual encounters for gay men and those who needed a quickie during lunch and would take off their wedding rings.
I loved the tubs. After a long night tending bar my coworkers and I would hurry on down to Rich Street, pay our $5 for a locker key on an elastic wrist band, go in and be whores for as long as we could hold out. In the late 1960s until the mid 1970s San Francisco arguably had the most fantastic collection of gay bath houses of any city, including Manhattan. Baths, like the old St. Marks in lower Manhattan were sort of vertical and pinched for space. But that didn't mean the men of New York were any less hot and horny than those on the West Coast. However, we seemed to have more tubs. Chicago had some remarkable gay bath houses catering specifically to the leather/dungeon crowd as well as the pedestrian twinkies.
Prior to the tubs, the Young Mens Christian Association (YMCA) facilities throughout the world were sort of the birthing place for real hot gay bath houses. When I was in my early 20s and worked my weekly day shift (every bartender had to work one day shift a week), the elderly gentlemen who came in to drink draft beer from 12:00 noon to about 6:30 PM told me that YMCAs had "always" been a bit on the seedy side since the early 1920s and had been the one place men went to have sex with men -- especially in the middle of the day.
I've heard lots of young gay men accuse my generation as being "totaly responsible" for the spreading of AIDS because of the tubbs. But there's plenty of blame to spread around like margarine on white bread when it comes to the AIDS epidemic. Also, now that we know how AIDS is contracted and spread within various populations, there's no reason not to practice safe sex; something we were unaware of in 1980. Besides, once we (the gay community) discovered the means of transmission among gay men we petitioned the bath houses to close down. And, reluctantly, they did; especially in San Francisco.
Anyway, some of my most amazing sexual escapades happened at the old system of gay bath houses all over the world. Are any old farts my age still around who would be willing to share their memories?
I'm willing to go first. I had my most humiliating experience at Club 15 in SF on the evening of July 4, 1976. I cruised a very hot number in front of the wash basins and mirrors while brushing my teeth. I let my towel slide open to show off my goods which immediately got his attention. We both had lockers so we went to a communal carpeted dark area with pillows to fuck. He got on all fours and raised his beautiful ass for me to plunder. As we got into a comfortable rhythm he relaxed fully onto the floor and I was perfectly positioned to continue working deep in his ass. Unfortunately, what I had thought were moans of passion was actually him snoring -- deeply. Yup. I was so sexually compelling that he fell asleep underneath me. I had wondered why it had been so easy to get my entire cock up his lifeless ass. The experience did wonders for my self esteem. Happy July 4th, 1976, to me.
Still, I miss the tubs. Dark rooms in dance clubs and bars just aren't the same thing. :biggrin1:
I loved the tubs. After a long night tending bar my coworkers and I would hurry on down to Rich Street, pay our $5 for a locker key on an elastic wrist band, go in and be whores for as long as we could hold out. In the late 1960s until the mid 1970s San Francisco arguably had the most fantastic collection of gay bath houses of any city, including Manhattan. Baths, like the old St. Marks in lower Manhattan were sort of vertical and pinched for space. But that didn't mean the men of New York were any less hot and horny than those on the West Coast. However, we seemed to have more tubs. Chicago had some remarkable gay bath houses catering specifically to the leather/dungeon crowd as well as the pedestrian twinkies.
Prior to the tubs, the Young Mens Christian Association (YMCA) facilities throughout the world were sort of the birthing place for real hot gay bath houses. When I was in my early 20s and worked my weekly day shift (every bartender had to work one day shift a week), the elderly gentlemen who came in to drink draft beer from 12:00 noon to about 6:30 PM told me that YMCAs had "always" been a bit on the seedy side since the early 1920s and had been the one place men went to have sex with men -- especially in the middle of the day.
I've heard lots of young gay men accuse my generation as being "totaly responsible" for the spreading of AIDS because of the tubbs. But there's plenty of blame to spread around like margarine on white bread when it comes to the AIDS epidemic. Also, now that we know how AIDS is contracted and spread within various populations, there's no reason not to practice safe sex; something we were unaware of in 1980. Besides, once we (the gay community) discovered the means of transmission among gay men we petitioned the bath houses to close down. And, reluctantly, they did; especially in San Francisco.
Anyway, some of my most amazing sexual escapades happened at the old system of gay bath houses all over the world. Are any old farts my age still around who would be willing to share their memories?
I'm willing to go first. I had my most humiliating experience at Club 15 in SF on the evening of July 4, 1976. I cruised a very hot number in front of the wash basins and mirrors while brushing my teeth. I let my towel slide open to show off my goods which immediately got his attention. We both had lockers so we went to a communal carpeted dark area with pillows to fuck. He got on all fours and raised his beautiful ass for me to plunder. As we got into a comfortable rhythm he relaxed fully onto the floor and I was perfectly positioned to continue working deep in his ass. Unfortunately, what I had thought were moans of passion was actually him snoring -- deeply. Yup. I was so sexually compelling that he fell asleep underneath me. I had wondered why it had been so easy to get my entire cock up his lifeless ass. The experience did wonders for my self esteem. Happy July 4th, 1976, to me.
Still, I miss the tubs. Dark rooms in dance clubs and bars just aren't the same thing. :biggrin1:
