Bears, Baths, and Pizza

Recently I’ve been to several bear events at Toronto bathhouses. Last weekend, I went to the Steamworks’ Bears, The Baths, and Beyond event. I discovered it about six months ago and I’ve been going ever since. For the most part, it’s been a good experience — the Steamworks has the best orgy room in the city with a hot slurp ramp lined with glory holes, a private-booth area, and a dark room with a fucking bench.. But something’s been bothering me. The bear event starts at 1 p.m., and during the past couple of times, the on-staff cleaners have shut down the glory hole / orgy room sometime between 1 and 2 p.m. so they can clean it. Yes, I’m serious.

The first time it happened, I just figured they had gotten behind in their work. But when it happened a second time, it wasn’t a mistake. Now, I worked in a bathhouse before and rule is this: you don’t disturb paying customers. You pick the slowest time of the day to get your clean-up done so you’re not wrecking anyone’s fun. But when I approached Steamworks front desk to ask about this, the starry-eyed, young guy sighed, “I know. I’ve complained about this numerous times. No one listens to me.” He handed me the manager’s card and that was that.

I e-mailed the manager, Remi Collette, when I got home, and it’s been over a week and I’ve yet to hear back. So I guess he doesn’t care; or more likely, when he googles his name and finds it on my blog, he’ll claim that my e-mail got lost in his spam filters. I should give the guy the benefit of the doubt; I’m just being extra bitchy because, aside from this complaint, the overall event was a waste of time, i.e. I didn’t get laid. In fact, I went home, showered, propositioned my husband, but he was in the middle of a project for school, so I said, “Fine, I’m off to the Cellar for the second shift.” (Editor’s Note — January 14, 2010: I did finally get an e-mail back from Remi Collette, Manage of Steamworks Toronto. He has directed his staff to clean the glory hole room first thing in the morning. Thank you!)

But it got me thinking about these bathhouse bear events: they all seem to serve pizza. What’s up with that? Cock alone isn’t enough to lure us in? Surely our girth and mirth is enough to sustain us through a six-hour famine. And how appealing is it to plant a wet one on a big, hairy bear when he’s just scarfed down a slice of pizza and a diet Coke. (Excuse me while I burp.)

At another bathhouse bear event a month ago, they did the same thing. Someone announced over the loudspeaker, “Good evening, gentlemen, welcome to the Bears of Toronto event at Spa Excess, we are serving pizza in room 201.” I headed over to room 201 — not for pizza, but for fodder for my blog. I figured bears in towels and pizza … something funny is bound to happen. So I leaned against the wall to watch.

A tall, bear started walking my way, chewing on a slice of pizza, and as he got to where I was standing, he looked at me, and he said, “Woof!”

I can’t tell you how much that turned me on. After checking my hairy chest for pizza splatter, I could hardly restrain myself from falling on my knees and taking him right there in the hallway.

Somehow I managed, gracefully or not, to find my way into another man’s room, but as I sucked this guy’s dick all I could smell was pizza. And then, Mr. Woof popped into my head with his mouth full of pizza. Talk about a boner killer.

As far as I’m concerned, food and sex do not mix unless you’re dripping chocolate over your lover’s nipples. But isn’t that something they talk about on Oprah during the “how to spice up your sex life” shows? I have hosted several orgies — including one for my fortieth birthday party with 40 men — and it never occurred to me to serve food. Even when I worked in a bathhouse, it made me a little queasy bringing my lunch to work.

Do we really need pizza at a bear sex party? Isn’t there enough to put in your mouth already?