(Forgive me if I've posted something similar to this in the past. I'm too lazy to actually go searching through a decade and a half of posts.)
Picture it: San Francisco 1988 (or maybe 1989)…
I learned of The Whispering Bushes at the end of Golden Gate Park long before we moved to San Francsico via Tales of the City. It wasn't until sometime after our arrival that I actually went exploring there, and I'm here to tell you. It's all true. (Or at least it was.)
Over the years of cruising the venue, I had more experiences than I could ever relate (and for some reason, generally did not record for posterity in my journals), hooked up with guys who I became friends with, and fulfilled more than one fantasy (see: Jeff York). Despite AIDS ravaging the gay community, sex was still to be had, and amazingly everything I saw or participated in was considered "safe" sex. Police patrols were rare. I recall only one instance when I pulled up to park before hitting the trails and saw several police cruisers had beaten me there. Naturally I turned around and went home.
Oh, the stories of Golden Gate Park I could tell…
This picture reminded me of one afternoon in particular: It was the day Al Parker relentlessly pursued me up and down the trails until it reached a point where I had to leave the park simply to get away from him.
That picture is also pretty much how he looked that afternoon.
When he first started following me I thought, "Well that's interesting. Al Parker. Chasing me? Yeah, he is. I'm flattered man, thanks. I really am, but I've seen where your dick has been and no thanks!"
Now I know that many of my readers would've jumped at the opportunity to service Mr. Parker any which way, but even in his prime, he never pushed any of my buttons, and frankly at the time this happened it was common knowledge in the community that he too was battling advanced HIV. So yeah…no.
After about 30 minutes, it was obvious he wasn't taking my hints, so I ended up going back to my car and driving off.