Busted in Druid Hill Park

A vintage photograph of Druid Hill Park.

A casual acquaintance “Jaleel” called me a week or so ago, all upset.

“Come get your cousin,” he said. “He is fucking up.”

Jaleel was dating”Edgar,” a dark-skinned bottom whose family comes from the same town as my Mom. He also has the same last name as my mother’s family so we jokingly call each other cousin although we have not proven the connection.

“Oh, no Jaleel, what did he do?” But deep down I already knew. Edgar. who was married to a woman but divorced several years ago, is a dick hound. I mean, that guy would fuck a tree if someone attached a dildo to it.

“Immanuel, I really tried to make this work,” Jaleel said. “I took him out on dates, cooked for him, and even paid for comedy club tickets. But he is still keeps fucking around on me. I’ve had enough.”

Jaleel explained what happened. He had planned to take Edgar on a date on Friday night but Edgar begged off, claiming he was fighting a cold and wanted to sleep in. So Jaleel went out to Club Bunns, where DJ Thommy Davidson spins house music every Friday night and people dance until the walls sweat.

“I happened to take a break from dancing and looked on Jack’d on my phone and it said Edgar was just a mile away,” Jaleel said. “That made no sense because he lives eight miles out of town.”

Jaleel guessed Edgar was nearby at Druid Hill Park, a notorious cruising spot. People are known to go there and fuck in the bushes, on park benches, damn even the pitching mound of the baseball field.

“I drove over and saw his car and walked through the trees and there he was,” Jaleel said. “So I hid in the brush and just watched and he was doing stuff you wouldn’t believe.”

That piqued my curiosity. I wanted the dirty details.

“What was he doing, Jaleel?”

“That black motherfucker was on his knees sucking three and four dude’s dicks and bending over and taking dick up his ass — raw! I couldn’t believe that shit.”

Jaleel walked back to his car. He meant to just leave a note on Edgar’s car saying he got caught. But his anger got the best of him and he went back and confronted him in the darkness of the park.

“Bitch, I see your ass out here. It’s over. Fuck you. And here is the jacket you bought me. Give it to one of these niggers you fucking in the park.”

And despite the chilly weather Jaleel stripped off his jacket, threw it at a surprised Edgar’s feet, and stalked off.

Jaleel is handsome, a stylish dresser, owns his home and his nice as can be.

“You can do better than Edgar although I know it hurts.”

“Yeah, you are right Immanuel. Thanks for listening to me. I really needed to vent.”

And I hung up the phone.

And would you believe it wasn’t two hours later before Edgar hit me up on Adam4Adam trying to get some dick.

12 Reasons Gay Men Don’t Get Sex or Relationships 

1. You are too picky. I’m sure you don’t look like a super model. So why do you insist your mate be perfect?

2. You are hanging with the wrong crowd. Break away from the pack – they could be cock blocking.

3. Stop hanging out in the same bars and clubs. The same folks tend to hang in the same places.

4. You aren’t being honest with yourself. Come on. You know you really like bottoming. So why you advertising as a top? You will just frustrate yourself and your potential partner.

5. You aren’t as cute as you think. Perhaps a better diet and a modest exercise routine or better fitting clothes would help.

6. You aren’t as fabulous as you think. Being trendy works in certain circles but looking too edgy can be a turnoff. 

7. You are too negative. You complain about the food in restaurants.The music at the club is too loud. Or the people at the bar in your opinion are ugly. You say insulting things about people or gossip. Or you throw a forest of shade in public. Avoid this…people are listening and you are turning off potential lovers without even knowing it.

8. You don’t have a plan. Being aimless and not having a passion for something is not sexy. 

9. You are not as successful as you think. Stop bragging about what you own and how much you earn. Who gives a fuck? And kindness and respect and love are free.

10. Good hygiene and dental care go a long way. And be sure public spaces in your home are neat. Nobody likes a nasty brother.

11. You depend too much on drugs or alcohol to be social. Nobody likes a druggie or alcoholic. Well, let me rephrase that. They will fuck you and use you but not keep you.

12. You are crazy. Don’t let unresolved trauma or internalized homophobia hold you back. Seek help from a therapist, social worker or trusted clergyman.

Dead Wrong


Luther only visited Damon’s bed on Friday nights and left before Sunday. Photo courtesy of Hollywood Reporter.

My friend “Damon” knew when he started dating “Luther” the odds were against the relationship working.

Damon is an out and proud gay black man. A professional with a well appointed townhouse in a gated community and good government job. Meanwhile Luther, a tall, dark Jamaican with a big dick and sex game Damon found irresistible, was so deep in the closet you couldn’t find him with a flashlight.

Damon lives in Maryland and Luther in northern New Jersey so they only got to see each other weekends. No matter how much Luther enjoyed Damon’s company, he always insisted on leaving by Saturday evening.

“It was strange,” said Damon, who met Luther online while visiting his sister in New York City. “I never met his friends. He never introduced me to his family. He never invited me up to his home. He always came down to mine.”

Two months went by. Spring  slipped away. Then four months. And six months and then eight. And it was the dead of winter and snowing and Luther still made the weekend trips to lay in the bed with Damon on a Friday night and Saturday morning.

“Why do you always have to leave on Saturday afternoons?,” Damon said as he spooned Luther one morning. “Can’t you stay on Sunday and come to brunch with me?”

Luther got quiet a moment but finally spoke.

“Well, I have to admit something. I’m a Catholic priest and I have to be back to perform Mass on Sunday mornings.”

Damon listened and tried to be understanding. He knew that considering Luther’s Jamaican culture it would be difficult to have a real relationship with him. But he had always held out hope.

But now this priest thing complicated matters. Weren’t priests supposed to be straight and celibate?

So he decided to back off. But a month went by and then two months and Luther didn’t call or text so Damon decided to reach out again. The dick really was that good. So he texted Luther’s phone number.

A day later a text came back. The texter explained that she was Luther’s sister. Luther was very sick and hospitalized and she had taken his phone and was texting and calling back people who contacted her brother to let them know.

“Who are you?” she inquired.

“Oh, just a business associate of his in Washington, D.C.,” said Damon, who was reluctant to inadvertently push Luther out of the closet to his family.

Weeks went by and no word so Damon texted Luther’s number again.

“How is Luther doing?”

The message from the sister was short and blunt. “He is dead.”

Damon was upset but not devastated. The relationship had cooled by the time Luther disappeared and Damon had started to date others.

But he  thought it odd the sister didn’t text more about the cause of death or the funeral arrangements. She just went silent again. Maybe she was too distraught to relive those sad events, Damon reasoned.

A few months went by and it was summer again.

And Damon was looking at his LinkedIn page on his laptop and a suggested contact came up. A man whose picture looked like Luther, down to the shaved head and neatly trimmed goatee. “No, this can’t be. He is dead. Unless he has a twin,” Damon thought.

Damon read the man’s profile. Instead of “Luther Davies” his name was “Lawrence Davies.” And although not a Catholic priest the man had attended a Protestant divinity school and had started at a new position as a minister at an African Methodist Episcopalian Church at roughly the time Luther had “died.”


Damon’s tale reminds me of this 1991 film starring Goldie Hawn as a woman who marries a psychopath who faked his own death for financial gain.

His curiosity got the best of him. Damon called the church in New Jersey and left a message with the secretary asking Rev. Davies to call him. A  day later Damon’s phone rang. It was Rev. Davies.

“Sorry to bother you but your photo came up on my LinkedIn page and you look remarkably like a friend of mine named Luther Davies who  died,” Damon said. “Could you be him or related to him.”

Rev. Davies mumbled something about his not knowing a Luther Davies. He then gave Damon his sympathies, some rushed, generic advice about handling grief and quickly got off the phone.

Damon was shocked. The reverend sounded just like his Luther. It had to be Luther. But why deny it?

Damon picked up the phone the next morning and called back. Surprisingly Rev. Davies accepted the call. This time Damon cut right to the chase.

“I know you are Luther,” he said. “Why the fuck would you lie about some shit like that? That was sick and cruel. Do you know how it felt for me to think you had died. We weren’t dating then but it was still a loss.”

Luther “Rev. Lawrence” Davies sounded a bit contrite but didn’t really apologize or explain why he did what he did.

Damon later theorized that his paramour had finally gotten his dream job as a minister at a large congregation andwanted to start fresh without the suspicion of his being  gay hanging over him.

So like a surgeon excising a tumor he cut all contacts with the secret gay side of his life. Including Damon.

He probably didn’t even have a sister. It was likely him sending the texts all along.


“Damon, that sounds like some crazy movie plot,” I said. “I just watched this old movie where Goldie Hawn plays this woman whose husband is a psychopath who fakes his own death. But this is better than that movie.”

“Yeah, who would believe this shit,” Damon answered.

“Yep, It’s crazy what some down-low men will do to stay in the closet,” I said.



Young Love in the 80’s

Photo courtesy of nih.gov.

Gay black men in the 80s, the period when Phil and Darnell fell in love. Photo courtesy of nih.gov.

My friend  “Phil” told me this story about how he fell in love in the South in the early ’80s. I changed a few details to protect his privacy.

Phil and his older brother “Gus” are both gay. But Gus was bold and didn’t care and proudly came out of the closet when he was a teenager, and was soon a familiar face in all the gay bars in New Orleans.

Phil, who was more studious and quiet than his brother, stayed in the closet and busy studying while in college. Afraid to disappoint his loving parents by telling them yet another one of their sons was gay.

That was until Gus brought home his friend “Darnell,” a tall, broad-shouldered, brown-skinned black man with a mustache and short Afro, which was still in style as the 80s dawned.

Darnell went into the military but that didn't cool off the romance with Phil. Photo courtesy of ethosmagonline.com.

Darnell went into the military but that didn’t cool off the romance with Phil. Photo courtesy of ethosmagonline.com.

“I knew my brother had probably fucked around with Darnell but that didn’t matter,” Phil said. “We took one look at each other and the attraction was there. We soon became inseparable.”

More than 30 years later Phil said he has never had a love affair as intense as the one he had with Darnell. He liked the way Darnell talked. The way he walked. The way he smelled.

They didn’t have an opportunity to have sex often — family was often around. And when they did they mostly just tongue kissed and bumped and grinded. But Phil said the feelings were still intense.

“That man could touch me with all my clothes on and his touch would make me cum,” he remembered.

Phil was a sophomore at Xavier and working part-time at J.C. Penney but Darnell did not have so much going for him. So his grandmother, who raised him, persuaded Darnell to join the military and get out of New Orleans before he fell in with a bad crowd and got in trouble.

Darnell went away to basic training in Oklahoma. But his love for Phil didn’t stop — in fact the separation intensified it. He called Phil collect almost every day, running up the phone bill. And almost every night Phil would sit at the dining room table alone studying into the night, waiting for Darnell to call.

Darnell even managed to get an allotment for Phil so that each month a portion of his military paycheck went to his love back home in Louisiana. Phil cashed the checks and hid the money under his mattress.

You see, Phil was saving the money because he planned to run away with Darnell after Darnell got out of basic training and went to his first post in California.

They had it all planned out. Phil would drop out of college, get an apartment off base with Darnell, and work at J.C. Penney’s to help them make ends meet.

But the two lovers ended up as star-crossed as Romeo and Juliet.

Gay poet and activist Essex Hemphill (right) in the 1980s. Photo courtesy of Pinterest.

Gay poet and activist Essex Hemphill (right) in the 1980s. Photo courtesy of Pinterest.

Phil’s mother was cleaning the house and changed the linen in the room and found a few hundred dollars in cash between the box spring and the mattress. She guessed immediately what was going on — mothers often know their children better than their children know themselves.

Phil was studying at the kitchen table, waiting on the collect call from Darnell as usual, when his mother confronted him and forced him out of the closet.

“I know what is going on — you plan to run away with Darnell,” she said, her eyes brimming with tears of love and sympathy. “I see you mooning around this house waiting on him to call. It’s obvious what is going on. It’s breaking my heart to see you like this.”

“Baby, you have to live your life and you have a lot of life to live. You have to finish college and make a better life than your father and me did.”

Darnell’s family found out too. You see, Darnell came home on leave for a month before shipping out to California. At the airport he cried so long and hard when he was saying goodbye to Phil that a blind man could see the two were in love.

Darnell’s grandmother narrowed her eyes looking at the spectacle and sucked her teeth. Darnell had already urged her to write a letter to the Army making up an excuse so he could be honorably discharged and come home. Now she knew why.

“A few days later his grandmother wrote me a letter demanding I sever ties with Darnell,” Phil said. “She said homosexuality was wrong and quoted all these Bible passages.”

The pressure from the two families worked. The two broke up.

“It wouldn’t have worked anyway,” Phil said. “After California the military was shipping Darnell to South Korea. I couldn’t follow him overseas. Remember, these were in the days way before President Clinton’s ‘Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell’ Policy. I would have jeopardized Darnell’s military career by following him around.”

So years passed. Darnell married a woman but soon divorced her and came out of the closet. Phil got over his first love and developed other relationships and moved away from New Orleans. But the two remained friends, although mostly the extent of the relationship today is keeping up with each other on Facebook.

Q: Okay readers tell me about your first love!

Being a Fool for Love


Photo courtesy of msefoundation.org.

Many people think women are the only ones who lose their heads when they fall in love with a man and do stupid things to keep them.


Wrong. Some men who love other men do the same things. Love does not discriminate.

Here is a true account to prove the point.

An acquaintance named “Xavier” fell in love with a man 10 years his junior named “Shawn.” They dated and decided to set up house.

Xavier, who was around 40, put his all into the relationship. He had grown up in southern Virginia with his mother and father and a dozen siblings and wanted to duplicate that close familial bond.

Although he earned less than Shawn Xavier had stellar credit. So he used his credit to buy a house with Shawn, a rental property, and a new Escalade for his boo.

And he paid some of Shawn’s student loan bills too.

But in less than three years Shawn started acting funny. He constantly accused Xavier of cheating on him, even timing how long it took Xavier to get home from his night job.

“I know you giving that big, red dick to somebody else,” Shawn accused him. “I know you say you are working at night but you ain’t.”

It got so bad that one day Xavier took the car to the carwash but Shawn didn’t believe him. He showed up the carwash.

“I just wanted to make sure your cheating ass was here,” Shawn said.

But ain’t this a bitch. It was Shawn who was cheating. Giving up ass to every Tom, Dick and Harry. Xavier found out through friends and Shawn promised to stop. But he wouldn’t so they separated then got back together then separated for good.

Xavier moved into the rental property and Shawn took over the house because he earned $30,000 more. But Shawn soon fell behind on mortgage payments and Xavier had to force him to sell it.

Xavier was left with $60,000 in debt, which seven years after the breakup he has just finished paying off. He has hardly any furniture in his house, not even a living room sofa. His 100-year-old rowhouse needs a ton of work.

“My money is just coming back,” he says.

Lately Shawn and Xavier have rekindled their friendship. Xavier says he is no longer in love with him but something in his bittersweet expression when he talks about Shawn shows the feeling is still there.

A few weeks ago Shawn visited and sat on Xavier’s front step and they talked. It was unseasonably warm in Baltimore for a late winter day.

Xavier said it was the first time Shawn owned up to what he did and really apologized.

“I really fucked up,” Shawn admitted. “I’m going to live to regret what I did.”

Q: Readers, has a lover taken advantage of you? How did you recover?

It’s a Top World and Bottoms Just Live in It

I’m on vacation and yesterday “Van” and I went to lunch with friends on Baltimore’ Federal Hill.

During the meal I mentioned the story I had heard of a bottom who went to a sex party in the city, got some outrageously good dick from a handsome top, and clung to him half the night.

When the top decided to fuck another bottom the first bottom got angry and wanted to fight the new guy. The fracas broke up the party, which was in a hotel room, and I think hosts had to ask the dick-struck bottom to leave.

One of our buddies “Conrad,” who is a strict bottom, said he could relate. It seems for many bottoms getting good dick is hard to find and when you find it they want to hold on to it, he said.

Complicating matters is that there is a double standard in the gay world that mirrors a similar one in the heterosexual one.

A top can fuck as many men as he wants but bottoms who snag alot of dick get a reputation for being loose hoes and used up, Conrad said.

And forget about trying to forge a relationship,  which is already difficult in the gay world.

Conrad told the story of a handsome guy he hooked up with who had an 11- or 12-inch dick.

The sex was good and Conrad later texted the guy saying he just wanted to hang out. He really liked the guy’s personality.

He got a chilly response. “I only hang out weekends at the bars or clubs,” the top said.

Conrad later learned the guy gets so many hits from bottoms craving his big dick he just hits and leaves them and has no interest in developing anything deeper.

For this top the world is his oyster. Bottoms can’t even get a fish stick.

“Well I’m verse. Why don’t you try doing that more to get more play,” Van suggested.

Conrad just looked at  Van funny. “I’m a total bottom. I like what I like.”

Reader Question: I’m in the closet in a conservative Caribbean nation? Should a pursue this long-distance relationship?

Revellers at Gay Pride in Santo Domingo. Photo of Townhall.com.

Revellers at Gay Pride in Santo Domingo. Photo of Townhall.com.


Q: First at all, I am a fan of your blog, I have learned so many things reading it. I will start by saying that I live in the Dominican Republic and Spanish is my mother language. I am 30 years old. I am a teacher at a public high school. I am deeply in the closet. In fact, I would say that I just admitted very recently to myself that I am gay (maybe a small bit bisexual). I will share my history with you.

I was raised by a very traditional family. Most of my family members are Jehovah’s Witnesses. I was very active in the congregation since I was very little, all my life, the congregation was the center of everything for me.
Since my earliest memories I always knew I was different, to make things short, When i was 21 I became an atheist and at age 25 I started looking for meeting other men in the Internet. I was too picky because I wanted somebody for a relationship not only for sex.
I had my first experience a month before turning 28 with a 19-year-old man with whom I started a relationship. Briefly after that I broke up because I didn’t feel in love and I didn’t really like the sex (it was only oral).
After I went through a period of negation of my feelings and a brief depression. This year I had an experience that I really liked with a person with whom I was supposed to start a relationship, but it didn’t work out, I guess he only wanted me for the sex. After that point i realized that I was gay.
Recently I started a distance relationship with someone who is great, but who lies sometimes, I think he loves me, but he lies in small things, like if he were afraid of losing me or making me sad. I don’t know what to do.
Should I leave him?
Should I stay with him only as a friend with benefits?
Am I right looking for a relationship or should I just have fun and the right one will show up?
By the way, I am a virgin top in the sense that I haven’t inserted my penis in no anus yet. But I enjoy a lot role play, rimming, sucking, nipple play, etc. So, I am barely experienced.
I wish you could tell me about how to handle gay men, I think that from all the types you have described, I am the freak with a heart of gold, with the exception, that I might not be a freak, (maybe I am, I just need to let go of a bit of fear, hehehe)
Thanks for reading, can’t wait for your advice.
A: Thanks so much for contacting me and thanks for reading my blog. I really appreciate that.
Coming out and learning to cope with being gay and forming relationships is not a one-size-fits-all thing. You have to do it at a pace in which you feel comfortable. Because ultimately it’s all about you and your comfort zone.
Still, as regards pursuing a relationship I would put brakes on. Don’t stop. Just slow down. Don’t rush it. You are young and still trying to come to terms with your sexuality, your sexual wants and needs, and being in the closet. And conducting long-distance relationships can be difficult.
Of course keep this person as a friend. Just take it easy. Listen to your intuition (you said he lies about things — that could be a warning sign). See what type of character he ultimately unveils. Remember action speaks louder than words. And listen to what he is saying to you with your head — not your heart or sexual organs — because men often tell you exactly where they are coming from but folks don’t want to listen.
Then decide whether he is worth your time and whether a deeper relationship is in the works.
In the meantime read some good books on being gay. Don’t worry about folks getting in your business by seeing you read a gay book. If you have a smart phone or tablet you can read them right on the device. There are also several websites that can help you (besides dlconfessionssequel.com of course LOL).
I know some gay American men who visit the Dominican Republic to get cheap, easy sex. And let’s be honest — Dominican, Haitian and Puerto Rican men can be hot.
But being gay in the Dominican Republic is tougher than in the United States.There is no law against homosexual acts but LGBT do not have protection from discrimination. They can lose jobs or be denied housing with no legal recourse. In fact, I heard the Dominican Republic even bars gay people from being in the military or on the police (Yeah right. I wonder how that is working out for them).
The Dominican Republic is also a very conservative, Catholic country — I was reading a Cardinal  got the police to close down several gay clubs in 2006. Hope the situation is better but I understand your reasons for being in the closet, particularly since you work with young people.
As far as learning to handle gay men that’s not easy to answer. Every man and woman is different. Just treat everyone with respect and honesty unless they show you they are not worthy of that. And be yourself. It’s really that easy.

Well, good luck to you and stay in touch. I will share your letter on the blog (without using your name of course). Some of my readers may have good advice (I learn from them all the time) so please read the comments to see what they say.

Take care and nothing but the best for you.
Immanuel at dlconfessionssequel.com