Fort Lauderdale’s Sebastian Beach Named THE Gay Beach in the U.S.A.
Sebastian Beach, our gay sandbox by the sea, was recently named by “Out Traveler” magazine has the hottest gay beach in America. This follows Wilton Manors, our gay ghetto, being named Gayborhood of the Year and Fort Lauderdale being honored as the LGBT destination of the year.
Named for the street it butts against (appropriate choice of words, wouldn’t you say?), Sebastian Beach is sandwiched between two long strips of Ft. Lauderdale’s straight beachfront. Ironically, it is at its busiest October through May when other beaches are deserted, and America’s sun-hungry, straight and gay, flock to that alien planet known as south Florida, the warmest spot in the continental U.S. in the winter.
Sure, it’s filled with male eye candy, though I often get a bunch of shriveled old fucks standing up near me half the afternoon, blocking my views of those luscious hunks when they decide to stroll, nonchalantly of course, down the shoreline.
Gay advocates will wax on how we are discriminated against by straight society, but take a gander at Sebastian on a typical Saturday afternoon and you will see segregation alive and at work, gay style.
Most obvious is the fact the beach is 97% male (at least anatomically). Do gay girls have a higher rate of skin cancer than gay guys or something? Or are women in American society far more mature than men and may have more productive things to do with their time than lay virtually naked on a beach and get fried.
Most of the interior of the strip spreading to the shoreline is usually populated by tourists glued to their fellow buddies from Boston or L.A. or Omaha (how ya gonna meet anybody, guys, if you stay together?), or by 20 inch waist twinks and, in a few cases, their girl friends.
Towards the back under the palms by the wall adjoining the sidewalk and AIA are the May/December couples, you know the old retired guys who can hardly stand up (rich retired dentists from Chicago or doctors from Butte, Montana) with their 35 year old power paramours. True love. Sure. Or maybe they’re their private duty male nurses. Hope I got the dough if and when I get to their age.
Lastly, on the left hand fringe (if you were facing the ocean) jammed against the lifeguard station are the juiced up muscle men and the bears, fur optional. Maybe that section of the beach just looks more dense because they’re all so BIG.
I also think Sebastian has the honor of being the beach smartphone capital of the world. Who the fuck are all these guys chatting with and about what?? Are they all real estate agents trying to sell that overvalued condo? Male escorts or one of those “deep tissue” masseurs lining up their next appointment? Or are they just horny fucks checking Growl’r fort the fourteenth time today?
Hey, guys, drop the cells and look around. You just might meet somebody!
Which brings to me to my last point, the thread that binds us all. Ego and the thirst for attention. I think my best take on Sebastian was the one I used in my upcoming new novella, slated for publication later this year, called “Buy Guys.” Buy Guys is the story of Blaze and Pete, two young, gay handsome drifters with nothing and nothing to lose. Blaze convinces Pete, who is falling in love with him, to leave dreary New Jersey and lead free and easy lives as male prostitutes in sunny Fort Lauderdale. Blaze, however, soon pulls Pete into a much larger, more dangerous scheme, a scheme that eventually threatens to destroy them both.
This scene takes place shortly after their arrival in Fort Lauderdale:
“It was a hot July afternoon in late October and the beach, only a block long, was littered with men. But it was only Tuesday and from what Blaze told him, Season, as the locals called it when all the tourists came down, didn’t actually get going until Thanksgiving weekend. So what with all these guys, yea, some wrinkled old farts, but plenty of young hotties too. Doesn’t anybody work in this town, thought Pete.
Blaze spied a cluster of juiced up muscle boys near the lifeguard station and gestured to Pete to follow him there to an open spot closer to the ocean.
Throwing down the blanket, he lay on his stomach and pretended to take a catnap, while Pete watched the moveable feast before him. The best looking guys made sure to instinctively stand up like erect dicks and swagger and stroke their abs or lather lotion over their chests as they chatted with their buddies, or on their smartphones or bobbed in the waves, all just to be noticed among the sea of attractive clones, desired, lusted after, even ridiculed. Anything, thought Pete, but be ignored.”
One troubling development of late has been the small but growing influx of str8’s to OUR beach. Seems the luxury hotels across the street may be the culprit. People staying at these places for three hundred bucks a night and up see a beach and make a beeline to the sand. I truly wonder how many of them pick up on the fact that the beach is unstr8 when they see it littered almost totally with men.
Or is it when their little 8 year old Sally asks them, “Daddy, where are all the mommies?”