So, yesterday was the big day : I went to a gay bath house for the first time. And I wish I could tell you this blog entry is totally NSFW because I am about to regale you with tales of erotic adventure in the land of cock, but I can’t, for reasons which will become clear.

So while I will warn that there is some NSFW content in this blog entry, flog fuel it ain’t.

Caveats disposed of, my adventure awaits. It started when class ended at noon yesterday. I packed up my stuff, did my best to fill my soul with the spirit of adventure, laid a total smackdown on my social anxiety in a brief but decisive matchup, and set off to walk around the block.

This, I did. I guess this is how you get me to finally explore my surroundings a little : put the prospect of an all you can eat cock buffet in front of me. So I walked around the block. Because my school is at 198 West Hastings and Steamworks is at 123 Pender, and Pender is only one block from West Hastings, I could deduce that I would not even have to cross Pender to get there.

Idea for a story : Pender’s Game.

It did involve a bit of an uphill climb. Having lived so long in Richmond, which is flat as the surface of a still pond, gradient still surprises me when I encounter it. And it’s especially weird in downtown Vancouver because, unlike my beloved home town of Summerside, Prince Edward Island, the gradient in downtown Vancouver can vary any which way you travel.

In Summerside, it’s far from flat, but the gradient is exactly the same wherever you go. It’s like the town^[1] is built on a ramp. So the gradient is easy to ignore because it’s constant.

I arrive at the place, and as I suspected, it was very… discreet. Just a couple of small discreet signs that say Steamworks Bath House on them, and some very cool big wooden doors with brass handles. No doubt this is a leftover from the days when police routinely raided anywhere gay men to get together to fuck, and makes for better relations with the neighbors.

First surprise : signing up is not necessary. You can go in as a “drop-in”. It costs seven bucks more, but five of that is a refundable key deposit, so whatever. I intend to sing up eventually, and some time soon, because they have a “back to school” deal where students get a free ninety day membership.

Gonna wanna hop on THAT train.

So I got myself a “Standard” room. There’s a cheaper “basic” room but it has even fewer amenities and so I figured, WTF. Might as well spend the extra 3 bucks. I got my key and a remote control for the TV in my little room (16 channels of almost-identical gay porn, yay), and went down to find my room, room 206.

It ain’t much. The “bed” is more properly described as “a gym mat with a pillow and sheet on it”. The TV is small by today’s standards. If I ever got stuck downtown and needed a place to stay for the night, it would do, and you can’t beat the price. But luxurious it ain’t.

In fact, the whole place was a lot more rough-hewn than I would have preferred. Guess if I want something that matches my fantasies, I will have to get rich enough to be able to go to like, the super secret gay bath houses only rich people are even told about.

Anyhow, found my room, ate the lunch I bought at Subway, got undressed, then went on my first sortie. A reconnoiter, if you will. I discovered that the place was cleverly designed so that all the perfectly normal stuff like the gym equipment, dry sauna, steam room, lockers, and jacuzzi, are on the ground floor. So you can totally use the facility as a totally normal spa/gym without being exposed to any of that gay queer homo stuff at all.

That’s because the fun stuff is downstairs.

Not that this was immediately clear, because the lighting downstairs is quite subdued. Eventually your eyes adjust, and you can see stuff, but when I first went down there just finding my way to my room was tough. I wandered around the downstairs maze three times before I realized that the glory holes et al were located down what at first had looked to me like nothing more than dark recesses in the walls in the area where the rooms are located.

Once I figured this out, I slipped down into one of these areas, only to find myself nearly completely blind. It’s even darker in there, and the first time through I was too freaked out by that to slow down and give my eyes more time to adjust. So I was really in the dark.

Luckily, by the time I tried again, I was calmed down enough to let my eyes adjust and then I could see everything well enough. Maybe I wouldn’t have been able to read the newspaper, but I could see what was around me, more or less.

And they do have glory holes, or should I say glory slots, which is not, sadly, a casino game where you can win gay sex but a slot in the wall you can stick your dick through in hopes that someone on the other side will feel like sucking it. Or wait on the other side in hopes of having a cock to suck. Having it be a vertical slot makes sense because that way, it can accommodate cocks and suckers of a wide of heights.

There is also something called a “slurp ramp”, which is the same thing but with the “cock” side elevated, causing the cocks to be at something more like face level on the “sucker” side. This is great news for me, because due to my knee injury I am incapable of kneeling. I can stand and I can sit, but kneeling is simply out of the question.

Ideally, the slot would have a little cushioned shelf like a window seat so I could sit n’ suck, but I guess I’m just a dreamer.

Anyhow, there was no action to be had there. Why? Because people look and see that there’s nobody there, so they walk on, guaranteeing that when the next person looks, there will still be nobody there, and so forth ad infinitum. I can only assume that when a certain critical mass is achieved, the party gets started. But I was there in the afternoon and I am guessing that is not the most busy time for the joint.

When I wasn’t walking around exploring, I was sitting in my room with my door open, hoping someone would join me. That’s how these places work. You leave the door of your room open and that signals your desire for company, so to speak. But no luck there either.

So I can’t regale you with tales of my erotic adventures because I had none. I was too depressed to even masturbate. So while I explored the facility, I didn’t exactly explore my sexuality. And neither did anyone else, for that matter.

Oh well, better luck next time. Next time I go, it will be night, and hopefully full of dudes, and I will have a better chance of finding me some action. And if not, the next time I will have to finally risk rejection by trying to take someone up on their open-door offer. I passed a lot of open doors on Friday but I was far too timid to try.

I wish I knew what the protocol was for that kind of thing, though. Do I stick my head in and ask if I can come and play? Or do I just slip in and hope for the best?

Oh well. So endeth my sad tale of a depressing lack of cock.

I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.