…went to the tubs because I wasn't that kind of boy in my 20s. Drop to my knees at the gloryhole at the Univeristy of Arizona Main library yes, but go to a bathhouse? Never!
Until we moved to San Francisco and I discovered the 1808 Club.
The 1808 wasn't a bathhouse per se. The 1808 was among the first of many "sex clubs" that rose up in the City following the closure of all traditional bathhouses in the mid 80s. It differed from a bathhouse in that there were no private rooms and the only acceptable (and yes, it was monitored) interaction between patrons was jacking off, but it was still insanely hot. Lots of very hot men more than willing to lend a well-lubed hand when needed.
From an entry in my August 1991 Journal:
It's been an interesting evening. I went to the 1808 Club. I hadn't been there in over four years, and it was like becoming reacquainted with an old friend. Some things had changed, but for the most part it's still the same as it was. There wasn't anyone there I especially wanted to set up house with, but there were a few hunks running around; none of whom wanted anything to do with me. But that's fine. It's one of those places where you can still stare at 'em and whack off anyway; like live porn.
I don't know especially why I went…I just had a need to get naked with a bunch of naked men. Probably some sort of unconscious male-bonding thing. Yeah, right. I wasn't especially horny, but the thought of spending another Saturday night at home didn't appeal to me, and neither did going to the Night Gallery.* I sure as hell didn't want to deal with attitude and smoke in some Castro bar. Sure, there was attitude at the 1808, but at least you got to look at all the wonderful glistening naked bodies and throbbing cocks! It was kinda magical and the music was excellent.
*a.k.a. Mike's Night Gallery, another story for another time…