I did extensive traveling through The Natural State earlier this week. Around 8 PM CST one evening, whilst traveling I-40 W, I had to stop and urinate. Being almost an hour out from my destination in northwest AR, I took advantage of a Rest Area. A very remote Rest Area.
The first thing I noticed as I rolled into my parking spot was how lacking the exterior lighting was. As such, there was only one other vehicle (full-size pickup) therein. Immediately after shutting off my Toyota, I exited and walked the short jaunt into the men's room. It's important to note that I'd frequented this Rest Area in years past whilst making this same trip ('22, '21, '20) but always during daylight hours. As such, the prison-grade plumbing fixtures inside worked to instantly refresh my memory, reminding me all the while of just how out-of-the-way this particular Rest Area truly was.
I could hear the door shut on the pickup truck that was parked outside just as I entered the men's room, and about halfway through my steady stream piss (at one of the stainless urinals), I was approached by its driver who'd obvious nefarious intentions.
The middle-aged man positioned himself adjacent at another urinal whilst simultaneously peering directly at / examining my exposed genitals. Whilst doing so, he asked how I was doing through a wide smile, his body now turned obliquely towards me.
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Cruising isn't something I've encountered too often within the Samson community "pedigree", though one of the first Samson guys I befriended back in 2014 did / had dabbled in it. I vividly remember him describing seemingly going into a bit of a trance whilst traveling the roadways, always on the lookout for other men who're similarly "tuned in" / needy.
What was particularly disturbing about his tales had to do with him behaving this way whilst traveling with his family (wife and four children) to youth sporting events (traveling soccer team). He described one episode within a chain hotel restroom (adjacent to the lobby) where he encountered a fellow who exposed himself before asking him if he'd like to join him upstairs in his room.
The stranger apparently was sporting some sort of a genitalia leather harness or somesuch. This shocked my friend out of his trance-like state, recognizing the fact that the man had no doubt "dressed his junk" before coming downstairs - before breakfast - to cruise. My Samson friend, then remembering how saddled he was with fam, politely declined the stranger's advances whilst all the while secretly enjoying the momentary attention / seedy excitement.
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I've only frequented one "back room" area within an adult bookstore, and that was in Houston, TX decades ago. I was so naive at that age as to what those dedicated areas were designed for. At the time, all I was interested in was screening gay porn (this was pre-Internet). Thankfully, relative to the time of day I visited (mid-morning), there was no one else present (at least that I could see or hear) amongst the plywood stalls. I remember randomly choosing a spot and watching a few minutes of gay porn (screened via the behind plexiglass CRT) before leaving discreetly (with an empty prostate and a boatload of guilt).
Too, I came away feeling really, really dirty. Dirtier than I'd ever felt up until that point. This experience kept me from ever returning to one of those sad spaces with the bare, colored A lamps dangling from the ceiling joists.
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Our western lives are mundane. There's no arguing that point. There're no wars to fight. Our healthcare system provides a solution to a myriad of aches and pains / fear of early death / disability. Refrigeration keeps our foods safe and unspoiled. HVAC systems keep us cozy. Transportation networks whisks us to wherever we see fit. We're consistently entertained / distracted relative to Hollywood / video games / social media. We have either insurance or the government as our proverbial safety nets. Kafka's The Castle really does sum up much of our existence.
Cruising is rooted in excitement. Excitement that comes from the suspense of a chance encounter, breaking up the mundanity of modern life.
There's no intention of developing a routine via cruising. Few, if any words are ever spoken. Instead, it's all physical, all sexual, all excitement for those select few moments / minutes.
And, I believe, cruising can be a hard, hard habit to break. For once your brain becomes hooked on this "trance-like" mentality, it's almost constantly looking for the opportunity to "shift into gear" secretly and on the fly. As such, men who travel, with plenty of time on their hands, are often suspect to lead this covert, very dangerous life.
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After I'd finished peeing, I promptly zipped up my fly and exited the bathroom. By the time I'd made it back to my parked Toyota, the man who'd been so obviously interested in my junk emerged too from the restroom. As I drove away, I stopped short of allowing myself to fall prey to Satan's accusations regarding why this man had chosen Rob to physically proposition.
Just a few minutes later, by God's grace, I was chatting with a new Samson friend. And this went on for the majority of the final leg of my drive. The dialogue eased my mind.
The following day, I called my Silas and immediately relayed the story to him. He listened intently which is what I appreciate most about him.
He'd never heard the phrase "cruising".
You're welcome, brother.
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