then what is it?
Adam's Treehouse
the making of a bisexual male mythology
for Northern California
by Adam Christensen
published in the JOURNAL OF BISEXUALITY Winter 2005
About seven years
ago I began hosting weekly
afternoon
get-togethers in Walnut Creek for about four or five bi married
buddies
who had met each other through me or by personal contact with someone
who
knew me. It was the proverbial "small circle of friends" which
I still think is a great idea and the best way to go. We met in my tiny
one bedroom second story apartment with a steeply slanted wood-shingled
roof surrounded by eucalyptus trees. Although it was a short walk from
downtown, once inside, you felt safely away from public streets, a step
closer to nature, and a welcoming spirit of playfulness was always in
the air. It looked like a treehouse, felt like a treehouse and
inevitably it was known as "Adam's treehouse." There are several
hundred wonderful men in Northern California who will light up with a
big grin if you ask them if they've ever "played in Adam's treehouse"
and I am very happy and proud about that.
At this time I'd
known some of the guys for quite a few years and I was happy to
introduce
them to each other. It was a very relaxed, low-key group of mature men
who
wanted a little extra contact and excitement in their lives and could
arrange
their schedules to take three or four hours off of an afternoon. These
were
and are all good men who had spent most of their lives helping other
people
and had rarely asked for much of anything back for themselves. Since I
worked
at home, it was fun to have them over and I always looked forward to
seeing
everyone. I enjoy being host and helping people relax and open up to
each
other. They weren't looking for a "relationship" but they did
want the safety and security of seeing other men like themselves they
could
relate to and feel at ease with.pnd are all good
men who had spent most of their lives helping other
people
and had rarely asked for much of anything back for themselves. Since I
worked
at home, it was fun to have them over and I always looked forward to
seeing
everyone. I enjoy being host and helping people relax and open up to
each
other.
This was new territory for them. Aside from satisfying their natural physical desires, I think they were looking to establish in their own minds that other men were like them and that it was perfectly normal for guys to have sex together. It's very easy for a bisexual man who is happily married but desires another man for sex to wonder if he is some sort of freak of nature out on the edge of society. But my experience has shown me that more often than not they are far above average in their ability to create a successful life for themselves and their families. At some point, their own life force reclaims ownership of their nervous system, disentangles it from inhibiting frameworks, and gives it the authority to fulfill its needs. For some people this is like a shift to hyperspace ... for other people, it's more like "What the heck! I think I'll give guys a try." Rather than letting a social image dictate who they will love and how they will express it, they simply find the appropriate companionship, a bit of privacy and disport themselves like the great lions and tigers of pleasure that they are. Everyone integrates their sexuality into their self-concept at their own speed but the process is certainly accelerated when you're around some friendly open guys whose basic attitude is "It's all okay, buddy, just go for it."
I wish I could
adequately convey how pleasant
this was.
My "treehouse" in Walnut Creek was about half the size of my new
one here and the fact that there wasn't a lot of space helped everyone
get
physically and psychologically closer. Guys would walk in, introduce
themselves
to someone they hadn't met before, undress, grab a beer and find a
place
to sit. I almost always stretched out on the carpet with a pillow at my
side so the other guys could cozy up on the couch. As the couch filled
up,
other guys would join me on the floor, resting a leg or an arm against
mine
in a gesture of friendly lassitude.
One afternoon, there were about eight or nine of us lounging around naked having a great time talking and telling stories. Suddenly, it looked to me like a scene from one of those classic Greco-Roman sword-and-sandal epics from the 50s and 60s like "Spartacus" or "Ben-Hur." Remember those? They were usually loosely based on some biblical story where Good and Evil were cearly defined and you didn't have to figure too much out on your own . But in addition to the moral edification, they were also a great chance to see voluptuous breasts bursting out of diaphanous low-swagged gowns and meaty squared-up pectoral muscles oiled and gleaming in the technicolor sun. The scene in my living room that day could have been transported easily several thousand years into the past into a villa by the Mediterranean or Aegean Sea. Good-looking naked guys, younger and older together, enjoying their own lusty, good-humored company ... "Jason and the Argonauts ... Nude and Unabridged ... The Director's Cut ... action figures by Mattel ... "
There is this odd paradox that men are both more tender and more masculine in their own company. On the other end of the couch Don and Eric who both possessed outstanding gladiator-like physiques had begun to embrace and were entwining themselves around each other as tightly as morning-glory vines. They were like a living sculpture of Eros at play, hard muscle and soft flesh discovering each other. Joe and Frank, who both had served at the same time in Vietnam, were telling war stories and had us enthralled, like uncles home from the war sharing Ares' tales of valor and heroism with their nephews. Randy, who radiates smooth-skinned, pink-nippled, curly haired Celtic DNA, had just poured Scott a new glass of wine from a pitcher of hand-blown dappled Italian glass and then nestled on the floor , his white arm draped across Scott's shaggy thigh. From a Portuguese background, Scott looks like a Roman senator with a massive hairy chest , greying brown hair, and a handsome chiseled patrician face. It was like the naked Irish slave boy serving wine to the master at a summer villa in Capri. Or Ganymede at the feet of Zeus. It was a classic moment where the dull veil of everyday life is gently pulled aside and the eternal soul identity of each person suddenly shines out, radiant, like faces in faence. I could visualize the gold horseshoe torque around Randy's neck as Scott idly caressed his autumn-burnished hair and fondled his curved white and freckled shoulder.
I started grinning from ear to ear and the guys
wanted
to know what was up. I blathered out, "You guys look like a bunch of
extras from Ben-Hur." Everyone got it and we all cracked up at the
same time. It was absolutely true. And there were many warm afternoons
like
this that stretched out calmly and sensually until dusk. And almost
everyone
came back as often as they could. Without intending in any
self-conscious
way to become a "men's support group," this group of men helped
and supported each other through separations, divorces, love affairs,
injuries,
surgeries, births and deaths in the family, job changes, financial ups
and
downs ... whatever kind of weather happened to arrive in the other
guy's
life.
By word of mouth alone, within a year or two this
circle
of men grew to around forty or so with almost no effort ... at least
seven
or eight showing up each week, depending on their schedules ... and
almost
everyone managing to drop in at least once a month. Most of these men
were
at a phase in their lives where they could arrange their own time so
taking
some hours off on a Thursday afternoon was no problem at all. They
could
have dedicated the same time to a golf game or volunteer community
service
or the pursuit of some favorite hobby.
I mentioned before that no one was looking for a "relationship". This is true. But there have been a surprising number of lucky coincidental friendships that started as a result of two guys showing up at the same time who took to each other mutually and immediately, had various interests in common and had no problem allowing a discreet relationship to occur. We'd hear that they had taken off for a bed-and-breakfast weekend in Mendocino or run off to Palm Springs for a holiday or a camping trip in Yosemite. We wouldn't see them for a few months because they were out having fun together. I was always happy when this kind of thing took place. I've always thought of my treehouse as a place of friendship and understanding, where people can open up at their own speed of self-discovery, and feel good about themselves in the process.
Gradualness is important. People have many different layers, filters and screens that they need to maintain their sense of identity, their privacy and anonymity, and keep up their social mask. As people feel more comfortable and at ease, they can gradually let some of those go. It was always kind of a group breakthrough for someone to say, "You know, this is my fourth or fifth visit here and I like you guys. But I have to confess something. My name isn't really Mark, it's Drew. I gave a false name because I wasn't sure I'd fit in or if I'd even like you guys or if you'd like me. But, anyway, I can drop that now. Just call me Drew." And, of course, that helped everyone relax more. In some ways, the nudity itself ... aside from being easy on the eyes and a natural relaxant ... is a kind of metaphor for transparency, of letting yourself be seen as real by others.
The value of gradualness carries into the sexual side of things too.
I've known one of
the guys for ten or eleven
years now
and, in his own way, he is one of the founding fathers of the
"treehouse". He's a man's man, plays polo
semi-professionally
and organizes scuba diving trips to places like New Guinea, Tasmania
and
the Red Sea. This year they are going to the Galapagos Islands.
Professionally,
he manages construction sites and travels throughout the East Bay.
Initially,
we saw each other privately, having been introduced by a mutual friend.
I was the second man he'd ever been with. He'd come over from work on a
winter afternoon and I'd build a fire in the slate fireplace for him.
He'd
stretch his powerfully-framed work-muscled body out on a towel or
blanket
in front of the fire and I'd massage him with warm oil for an hour or
so
before I'd gently turn him over to begin sex. Sexually, he could only
imagine
himself as passively receiving oral sex from another guy which I was
more
than happy to oblige. He was a very warm, attractive and personable man
but he had no desire to touch anyone back . I'm not suggesting that he
was
a "cold" person. Not at all. It's that he was only comfortable
with one kind of sexual expression with another male and that was all
he
would allow himself to have.
On one occasion, we were resting by the fire in that pleasantly mindless post-orgasm afterglow that is the reward of the blessed. We listened to the pine logs hiss and sizzle. I watched the fire waver in his grey eyes while my fingers idly traced the wide welt of his triple bypass scar upwards from his groin and across his belly and chest. Apropos of nothing, he asked me if I'd ever kissed a guy and what was it like? I said I had and that it was a wonderful feeling. But it had to be the right guy. He mentioned that he couldn't imagine kissing another guy. He just didn't think he was wired for that kind of intimacy with another man. I just smiled because when someone says "never" they really mean "sooner or later."
We continued to
see each other about every
other week for
several years and he became more and more open to meeting my friends,
becoming more relaxed with each visit. One afternoon, he came over as
usual for an afternoon
romp
with the guys. He arrived early and the only other person there was
this
knock out drop dead gorgeous dreamboat of a guy who was a sales
representative
for Neiman-Marcus in downtown Walnut Creek and looked like he just
jumped off the cover of GQ
magazine.
If Disney ever made a live-action version of "Sleeping Beauty",
this guy was a shoe-in for Prince Charming. He'd had an argument with
his boss that morning and just wanted to get away and change the tapes
in his head.
He was already naked,
resting
on his side on the couch and glancing at a new Tom Clancy novel. I
noticed that my older friend was immediately taken with him and was
even a little clumsy getting out of his boots and work jeans. I was
trying
to finish some work that day and, aside from getting them something to
drink
and putting my favorite erotic film on the VCR, I stayed in front of my
computer which was in the living room and tried to keep my mind on my
work.
They began talking ... normal "getting to know you" conversation.
A few minutes later, I glanced over and they had begun fondling and caressing each other. Another few minutes, and they were making out on the couch like teen-agers. I swallowed a secret smile and returned my face to my computer screen where it belonged. For someone who claimed he would "never" get that close to another guy, my tough old macho buddy appeared to have suddenly acquired an amazing natural talent for French-kissing. When they finally slid to the floor in a romantic sixty-nine position, I suggested that they take over the bedroom and I'd make sure they weren't interrupted. Well, they didn't come out for three hours ...
It was obvious
that this Batman and Robin duo
didn't need
a supporting cast or even much of a script; all they needed was a
bedroom
where they could improvise their own scene. As the other guys began to
arrive
and sounds of amorous romping drifted through the closed bedroom door
...
remember, my place was so small I could hear from the kitchen whether
your
pee was hitting the water or the porcelain in the bathroom ... they
were
curious about who the lucky dogs were. I explained that our Marlboro
man
buddy had finally run into the right match to ignite some of his
dormant
erotic fires and that they'd join us when they'd finished burning up a
few
sheets and scorching a pillow or two. If they needed anything, they
already
knew where everything was and could serve themselves. There are times
when
you know you've done all you need to do as host and it's time to kick
back
and let Mother Nature take her course. I like it when that happens.
Eventually, I
heard the bedroom door swoosh
open and the
two of them slip chuckling into the shower together which I thought was
a very good sign. In our culture, you usually don't shower with another
guy in a private home environment even when there is a drought and
you're
trying to save water. Showering together after sex is always a sign of
genuine
attraction, of wanting to continue the rapport and closeness you
experienced
in bed. It's a very affectionate thing to do. From the sounds of their
laughing
voices, I could tell that not only had they hit it off but they were
still
a bit light-headed from the excitement of it all. They came out into
the
living room beaming and grinning, and continued drying each other off.
Since
the couch was full at this point, they pulled a few pillows together
and
cuddled up on the floor , side by side, purring like Bengal tigers in
the
aftermath of the hunt. Prince Charming tucked up nicely into Marlboro's
man's strong shaggy arms as quiet kisses were pressed into the back of
his neck and shoulders, and his perfect butt molded into my older
buddy's contented groin. They spent about another hour with us
before
everyone
had to dress and step back into their usual time-lines and Clark Kent
personas.
I share this vignette ... one of many stories from "Adam's Treehouse" ... because it's a good illustration of the idea of gradualness. It's probably the most dramatic example of someone I know personally and intimately having a 180 degree shift in their sexual stance. Well, maybe not a full 180 but certainly a 90 degree shift. It had taken several years of contact with me and the other guys for our friend to open up and be willing to see himself in a different role or position as a sexual partner. Or let his affectionate side out which, in some ways, is even more of a challenge for some of us. What happened that afternoon was a perfect example of Preparation meeting Opportunity and having a pleasant go of it. In the course of our lifetime, it's very likely we will explore many forms of sex. Most guys do. From time to time, change how we express ourselves sexually ... in much the same way that we might change jobs or careers in our outer life in order to experience ourselves in new ways and discover new aptitudes. But always at our own speed. It's important to accept other people where they are and to respect whatever boundaries or limitations a person may be working with at the time. People have a way of knowing when it's time to shed one of those layers, when it's alright to draw aside one more screen or when it's safe to try out something new.
I work at home in Cupertino, California in computer graphics, animation and illustration. Writing my erotic memoirs has been a lot of fun for me and I’ve had several stories published, including "A Flame of Flesh ... for Eric" in the West Beach Books anthology “Buttmen” and “Conversation in a Treehouse … for Birch” published by Men’s Web. My story "Adam's Treehouse ... the making of a bisexual male tribe in Northern California" will be published in the upcoming Haworth Publication "Bi Men: Coming Out Every Which Way" edited by Pete Chvany and Ron Suresha. So far, all my stories are written from my own life experiences and I hope they ring true for you, the reader, also. You’re welcome to write to me at omar95014@yahoo.com. I’d enjoy hearing from you. Take care.
there is nothing to prove "
Buddha
page design, graphics and animation © 2005 Adam Victor Christensen