As you --more than anyone-- know, Gay Guy has needed some time away from his routine. So I took my cranky ass away for a weekend jaunt to Charleston, South Carolina. The trip was wonderful and just what I needed.
I knew of Charleston's reputation as a sophisticated and beautiful city, with a rich history, districts of historic houses and gardens, and good food. All true. I fell in love with the city right away, and want to go back soon.
In addition to its inventory of history and beauty, Charleston is the home of the Citadel, the military college. I don't know the the first thing about the Corps of Cadets' lives, but I wouldn't be surprised if the young men are chained to campus during the week, because they were out and about the city all weekend. Must be they can't change out of their uniforms when they leave campus, so you can spot them coming: gray trousers, fitted white short-sleeve shirt, and a cap.
So, this brings us to uniforms as sexual fetish. I've never been turned on by a uniform. There's a tradition, or at least a lore, of gay guys getting into the cop or military look. Not me. I just don't get it. But I'll admit that the look of these young men in their uniforms was provocative -- not so much as making them into sex objects (late teens and early 20s, complete with acne, no thanks) or by cocky attitude (they were unfailingly polite). But they looked great in those uniforms. Of course, the young men are fit, as one would expect from a Citadel cadet. Like strands of spaghetti. Oh my, such flat stomach and slim hips. And flat asses. Not one round ass in the corps. If it's the Citadel uniform pants that makes those hips look so slim, I'll order a pair or two.
Uniforms, chapter 2: I took a boat cruise around the harbor and out to Fort Sumter National Monument. On the cruise were a dozen fine examples of the British Navy. They were between assignments --one of them tried to explain it to me, but I couldn't understand it. There were all in gleaming white uniforms with blue trim. About half of them were in middy blouses and caps. They looked to be late 20s or 3os, so my checking out their . . . errr. . . uniforms, didn't feel creepy. A few were stunners, and the uniforms were a huge part of it.
I might have made my decision about uniforms fetish too hastily.
(I guess the park ranger at Fort Sumter is chapter 3 in the tale of uniforms, but the hat is a buzz kill.)
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