Is that what I think it is? Oh. Oh dear. Oh my. Oh yes, it is.

August 28, 2009 at 3:24 am (Uncategorized)

I saw my first public wanker since backpacking days last night. As I said to my friend  S, with whom I saw men enthusiastically exposing themselves from Portugal to the Czech Republic, I’m so out of practice, I had to look twice. It rather took me by surprise, and the funny thing is, if I had stuck to my regular route, I would have missed the schlong spectacular altogether. As it was, I copped an eyeful, though mercifully more a figurative than literal load.

I’ll tell you what happened.

I was walking down the beachfront to meet Llew at Jah Bar, which is our favourite place in Man Town for a late bite and glass of wine. We’d both worked late, so a spot of tapas and vino won the toss (an unfortunate phrase under the circumstances) against the chicken carcass in the fridge. The beachfront is a fairly well populated, well lit place, but it was quite late, and so I changed my modus operandi, moving over to the street. That was my undoing. I crossed at the zebra crossing and walked past the Manly Pacific Hotel. When I reached the corner, I glanced across at the opposite corner. A window in the small hotel opposite was open, lights blazing, filmy white curtain parted, and there he was. The Wanker. He was a bald man, middle-aged and paunchy. He was butt naked. And his excitement at spying his audience, no matter how unwilling, was palpable and, er, pump-able. A group of teenagers had exited the Manly Pacific behind me, and I heard one of the boys shout out, “Hey, he’s having a toss!”

The Wanker worked harder – you could tell he thought he held the audience in the (cough) palm of his hand.

Still part of me was thinking, ‘Nooo, surely not!’ but a second quick glance upwards removed the last lingering uncertainty as well as all traces of imagination. I didn’t need mine. No, in this situation, imagination was redundant. I gasped – probably just what he was hoping for – and hurried across to his side of the road. Now beneath the window, I could no longer see him or it. I was right near the office door, and I briefly contemplated dobbing him in. But the whole idea was, how to put this, deflating; it was late, he was obviously a lonely man, and I felt a bit sorry for him (being more informed than most about his limited resources). Also, by my calculations, it was all going to be over in a matter of seconds. There didn’t seem much point reporting him to the reception desk – there wasn’t any harm done, except perhaps to those curtains, although I suppose one could argue those teenagers got more than they bargained for on their big night out in Man Town. But then they’re school kids, so they’ve probably seen it all before. High school students are catnip to perverts, we used to get them whipping out their paltry pieces every recess. Got a bit tiresome after a while; you’ve seen one trench coat, you’ve seen ’em all.

Back to the ground floor, I surprised myself by breaking into a run. I shuddered theatrically, gave a little squeal – acted my part in the drama, I suppose, although it’s a pity he wasn’t able to witness my performance as I’d been forced to witness his – and ran around the corner to Jah Bar. Llew was approaching at the opposite end of the avenue, and boy, was he a sight for sore eyes. He was quite keen to walk back and set up theatre seats, but I managed to talk him out of that. We went inside, pulled up a pair of stools at the bar, and lamented not being able to afford to shout the man a little time with a professional. Imagine that! He’s starkers, he’s spent, he’s turned to the hotel porn, when suddenly there comes a knock on the door. ‘Room service? I didn’t order room service,’ he might think, covering his manhood in a towel. And I suppose it would be room service, after a fashion. Cracking idea, anyway. If I were a woman of independent means, I might have just sent him round some working company just for the hell of it. But I’m not, so we didn’t, and that’s the way life goes.

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11 Comments

  1. Pete said,

    Ew – nasty. I didn’t want to leave a comment at first since I thought I would be tainted by mere association with the exhibitionist. But that’s one motivation I’ll never understand. Perhaps there’s a feeling of power there somehow. Anyway, off to read another blog post now. Happy thoughts …

    • doctordi said,

      Having written the post, Pete, and witnessed the exhibition, unfortunately I suspect the taint rests solely with me! I can’t imagine what would possess a man to do that, but yes, it was from a great height, perhaps this was his idea of addressing his subjects. I’m sure it’s about power, I just think it’s a very confused means of trying to acquire it.

  2. jactaylor said,

    heavens. Mantown is so saucy. you’d never see that kind of behaviour in the Ghetto.

  3. doctordi said,

    Jac – welcome! Oh yes, that’s Man Town. Beneath that Truman Show exterior plays a sordid talent show on the dark stage of iniquity…

  4. piereth said,

    Blimey, it takes all sorts to make a world, don’t it just??!! But had you not seen it, you wouldn’t have been able to write so amusingly aobut it, and my day at least would have been the poorer!

    • doctordi said,

      Piereth, I wonder sometimes if I write about these things because they happen to me, or if these things happen to me because I write about them… either way, always glad to brighten your day!

  5. Grad said,

    I’d hate to be the poor soul who checks into that hotel room next. Makes me want to bring all my own linens when I travel.

    • doctordi said,

      I wish you hadn’t said that, Grad. Now I’ll never think about hotel rooms quite the same way again…

  6. davidrochester said,

    Ditto Grad. Every now and then I check the wild and racy blog of a blogfriend who became a sex blogger, and after reading what she and her lover get up to in every corner and on every surface of their hotel room, I never want to touch a bedspread, couch, lampshade, telephone dial, sink faucet, or hanger again.

  7. doctordi said,

    Hangers, David?! Ouch! Now that’s got to be an occupational hazard for a sex blogger, feeling they must turn each and every hotel room upside down. Exhausting. I love hotels, though, so I hope this experience hasn’t tainted me for life.

  8. litlove said,

    Can you believe I forgot about this post? Maybe I just repressed it (lol!). I’ve never seen a man expose himself; I’ve led a very sheltered life, you know. It’s probably not as much fun as your post was, but then again, the post gives the necessary gloss (if you’ll pardon the expression) to the experience to make it acceptable and just plain silly.

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