Love on Demand

You Can’t have Love to Order at the Dilly

Dear People,

I want to thank Gay News and everyone who supports it for giving gay people everywher19721001-07e the chance to discover themselves through its pages. Here gay ideas and experience can meet and be explored so that we can all examine our prejudices and myths and perhaps for the first time realise who we are. For being gay is not GLF or CHE, it is people, all people being aware of the reality of each other.

I enclose an answer to the article ‘The Piccadilly Affair which I hope you print. It won’t please a lot of people, but that is what discovering oneself is really about. We have to live together side by side and try to love and understand that which we don’t always like or want to see. We are the bars of our own cage.

I’ve been a hustler in the past, and can give several reasons for being one.

  1. As a penniless artist it was a way of eating;
  2. I was exploring my own feelings or hang-ups about prostitution;
  3. I was meeting the needs of certain people;
  4. It was more honest than most gay one-night sex games, played in the name of love.

None of these reasons appear to make me any the less human or qualify me for the heartbreaker of the year award.

I cannot defend the Australian boy for not making the position clear — that, I feel, was dishonest. (The Piccadilly Affair – GN5).

But I do not defend him over the broken heart. For in a business deal of this sort no-one is talking about love. The product is sex and maybe the satisfaction of someone else’s unusual desires; ie sado-masochistic fantasies. (How many gays have been sickened to find that their man for the night was ‘kinky’ or vice-versa?)

You say you love him: question what you love. Do you have any idea of him as a real person? Please be honest with youself. Love is more than a body and a voice. Did you express your true feelings to him? Why ‘be daft’ and give him £5 when there was no pressure? Perhaps you should have shown him the poem instead and tried to discover the real person you had just had sexual contact with.

I have been hired by many people and few have wanted to discover me as a person, though one did and we developed a real friendship outside of any business relationship, which was rewarding for us both.

I have no guilt over my hustling days, but I have experienced guilt, dishonesty and pain in non-commercial gay relationships from people who claimed to love. Love for me is the whole person, not separate parts, it’s a truth between people, a beauty that does not wither with age.

One of my fellow hustlers met his friend and lover through a client and they have been together ever since, and that was eleven years ago. So please try to see rent boys as having hearts and that they too can fall in love, but not to order.

The Piccadilly Affair

One Thursday night I was at Picadilly Circus, viewing the lights and minding my own business, when after a time, I got talking to a boy next to me. and in the course of the conversation he said he was from Australia. He had a slight Aussie twang in his voice (which was rather nice), his hair was fair, with pale blue eyes and freckles over his nose, which made him rather attractive to me. We talked for a time and then went for a cup of tea.

05-197208xx-4By this time I had fallen in love with him. with his soft Ausie twang and his freckles, and his slim build, and he talked away quite freely, about everything. “Where do you live” I said. “Kent, he said, “What time is your last train”

I said, “1.45″ he said, “Well come down to my place and spend the time till your train time” which he did, good I thought, this boy will be mine for a few hours. Wow, I thought, wonderful. wonderful.

After a short taxi ride we arrived at my place, up the stairs and into my small bed-sit, and after a short period of time his beautiful, slim, half-sunburnt, naked body was mine, there there will be no need to tell you any details, only one thing, there was no response to me advances, he just lay there quite passive, letting me do the work, when the time came for him to go he got up and dressed himself, and as doing so he said, “you know the score, what about it”, “About what” I said, “Come on, you know what I mean, my £5 plus my taxi fare back to the place where you found me”.

I could not believe it, then I realised it was not me he wanted but my cash, then he realised that I was surprised and that I had not realised he was for rent when we were talking at Picadilly, and I think that in a way he was sorry, by the way he talked after. We had a cup of tea and we talked and I gave him his £5 (may be daft on my part), and then he went for his train, and as he went out he said “I would like to see you again”, “OK sometime”, I said, and went back to my room and remembered a poem of long ago, it is;

You are not the boy of my prayers and tears
But of my love, my hope, my certainty
You are not a god you are the boy I am
You breathe in me my blood is yours
What I have you possess
As I hoped and wished
We shall henceforth be together for ever
And it is my turn to say to you
How splendid that is
                      always
If it be sin to love a lovely lad
Oh then sin I for whom my soul is sad

and I have been around Picadilly a few times and seen my god from Australia with other people, then disappearing, how sad I am when it is not me who is with him, what can I do, can anyone tell me for I love the lad from Australia, love him with all my heart, do the people who rent themselves not realise, they are breaking peoples hearts in the process.