But most respondents lived in the Montrose, an hour away in Houston. Others lived even farther away, in far-flung southern suburbs, even in Galveston. So I was overjoyed to hear from someone who lived only about 10 miles away (a half-hour drive in Houston traffic).
Jack said he was 24 years old, a little older than me, an English major at the University of Houston, with exactly my interests: literature, science fiction, classical music, languages, and foreign travel. Plus, he said, he had a bodybuilder's physique and a Mortadella+ beneath the belt.
That was probably just "personal ad" bragging. But I didn't care. I would have accepted a date with a garden troll that was male, breathing, and less than an hour away.
He said he was laid up with a broken leg, and couldn't go out. So I drove out to the house, a weird gray Tudor surrounded by crazy thin acacia trees and a bare mud lawn.
The door opened before I got to the front porch. A shirtless guy stood in the doorway: short, compact, dark-skinned, just my type. But definitely not 24. Probably a teenager."I'm Eric, Jack's brother," he whispered. "Keep your voice down -- my stepfather is asleep. This way."
Brother! Stepfather! I thought we'd be alone!
The full story, with nude photos and sexual situations, is on Tales of West Hollywood.