It's not the beginning of a dirty joke. It's the beginning of the worst date in West Hollywood history.
I have always been attracted to guys who are short, the shorter the better. Under 5'8" is good, under 5'4" is great.
Dwarf/Little Person (defined as under 4'10") -- whoa, here's my number!
But only about 30,000 people in the U.S. are Dwarfs/Little People (according to activist Danny Woodburn, either term is correct). That means about 1,000 adult gay men. And since people with atypical bodies often have fewer hangups about their partners' gender, maybe another 3,000 who are bisexual, or straight but "bent around the edges."
4,000! The chances of meeting one are astronomical!
In Los Angeles, the odds increase a bit: due to wide-ranging discrimination, many LP are drawn to show business. So I occasionally saw a LP at a Hollywood event, or on the street in Century City. But never in a gay context.
It was always packed with bears, bikers, and leathermen, but never before or after had I seen Ryan (not his real name) -- about 4'0", shirtless, muscular, with a broad oval face and a quick smile. He was a little drunk, and heavily cruising a Cute Young Thing (who was trying hard to ignore him).
I wasn't going to let this opportunity pass! Lee and I had an open relationship, so he agreed to be my wingman. We sidled up to the spot next to Ryan, and Lee asked, "How's the filming going?"
In West Hollywood, any hint that you worked in show business immediately netted you some fans. But Ryan glanced over with cool, crisp Attitude, and redoubled his efforts to land the Cute Young Thing.
"Are you bringing the Maserati?"
"No, that's still down in my place in Cabo."
If being in show business failed, a hint that you had money could sway the frostiest Attitudes. But Ryan remained unimpressed.
Lee and I exchanged panicked glances. None of my good material was working! Think, think, think...what did West Hollywood guys like more than showbiz contacts and bank accounts?
"But you know, I really miss my modeling days." (This was true; I did do some modeling in college.)
"Yeah, I loved your feature in Inches. Didn't you win an award of some kind?"
"No, I got runner up. That darn Joey Stefano beat me by a milimeter!"
An appearance in an erotic magazine devoted to...um...inches! Who could resist checking that out? But Ryan was gazing wistfully as the Cute Young Thing wafted off to cruise a leatherman. He drained his beer and started walking away.
Enough beating around the bush! I walked directly up to Ryan and grabbed him by the shoulder. He was exactly 2 feet shorter than me, positioned to be looking directly at my crotch. His eyes widened.
"Hi, nice pecs," I said. "My name's Jeff."
I got his number.
Next: the date.