A Slice of Gay Pie: Are we sexual tour guides?

With the Majestic Mountain, sun scorched summer days and white sandy beaches, Cape Town is a city that begs visitors to visit.  And they do.  It takes some time before us new cummers learn how much folk love to visit us.  And as a resident we will always finds ourselves with guests popping up and popping in throughout the year.  And lets not forget that the guests expect to be shown a good time.  Sho’ sho’ sho… Summer visitors are always easier to work with however the rainy days prove a dilemma.  This all asks the very important question: Do I love the visitors and do I really want to be a tour guide?

Recently, a couple of queers came to crash at my place for a little bit of a boy’s weekend.  With Mother Nature pulling a grey blanket over our heads for the weekend the entertainment highlights would have to rely heavily on nighttime extramural activities.  The weekend was one full of prowling but very little attacking.  So on their last night I decided to take them to a bathhouse and let them run a little free.  This was the first time I felt like the tour guide, due in large part to the fact that I chose not to get involved, rather let them have their fun.  And I was completely content doing so.

So what is a gay boy to do when he finds himself with his two brothers (Straight brothers of course) visiting him, a few weeks later? How is this boy’s weekend going to be different from the last?  Yet at the same time how will I match it in terms of them having a blast similar to the one a group of gaggling gay guys just experienced?  And how can I make it something great albeit as far removed from my own personal comfort zone?

The weather played her part.  A night of grooving to some dub step and a few great restaurants seemed to wrap the experience up.  But what would be the straight equivalent to a bathhouse be?  Strippers club! 

Women – crawling on tables, grinding on men’s laps and spinning round on polls.  So when exactly did I feel like the tourist guide in this scenario?  The moment one stripper lay on the table with her legs spread and proceeded to flick a bright silver round rod that pieced through her labia, and she refused to stop until I gave her some attention.  I lick my lips and give a naughty grin and she moves on to perform her “magic trick” to my brother on my right.

One finds it hard not to compare the two.  In one establishment we have a group of men all objectifying women or one particular girl.  And in the other we have a group of men objectifying each other.  Is either one really a reflection of depravity in our society or is it just adult entertainment?  Should there be a place for adult entertainment?  Or is it a gateway into a dark world of lust where lines of right and wrong are blurred with what just feels good?  When do we go from allowing our sexuality to empower us, to sexual hedonism? 

Children orientated entertainment, or family friendly atmospheres, dominate in terms of variety when it comes to our choices for fun.  Restaurants with their kiddie corners and tea gardens with mini jungle gyms are almost synonymous with eating out, so where are the family-unfriendly spaces… probably near the smoking section?

When I was a young teen, movies were released with a “2-21” age restriction.  It was an elite selection of films that I could not wait to be part of.  By the time I was sixteen, movies could only receive an 18-age restriction and worse yet, more and more films where being made with the idea that the age restriction plays apart in telling the story.  So fewer films were made aimed directly to people in their twenties.  Now any film with an R rating gets my money and believe me they are actually few and far between.

I say yes to adult entertainment.  I say yes to the visitors.  And I say yes to boy’s weekends.  The freedom to choose is what is so sweet about having establishments that may post moral issues for the community.  And is South Africa not a country that has slowly been building itself on the idea of freedom for the last seventeen years?

Bring on the visitors, yo’.