The Boys of Summer - Jamie and I spent the weekend on my first trip to Adam's favorite little beach town, Rehomo. "First trip ever??? What took you so freaking long?" he asks. Being a native of Norfolk, I never saw much reason to venture hours up the coast when Virginia Beach was in my backyard. "Vah Beach" may not have the greatest reputation, but to locals who know how to avoid the tourons and party people, it's got gorgeous, uncrowded sands. Even though I now live in D.C., I figure if I'm gonna have to drive three hours to get to the coast, I might as well stick with what I know. But Jamie's from Baltimore and likes gay-friendly spaces, so I let him arrange the trip.

Saturday morning found us pounding the planks of the boardwalk in search of Poodle Beach. We loaded up with our usual beach gear and started the hike to the southern city limits (about 1/2 mile) to the spot "where the boys are." As a first-time visitor, I found the gay beach to be a fascinating sociological phenomenon. First of all, unlike your typical beach it was very much an adult crowd, notwithstanding the occasional child-from-an-earlier-marriage visiting with his "two dads." Second, it was overwhelmingly male. (Later we read that the womyn prefer the state park beach north of town.) Third -- and this observation applies equally to the gay scene in the town -- it was older. I would guess the average age was getting up there near 40. The 18-and-up crowd I'm used to seeing in gay ghetto must not make it out to the shore (except to bartend). After all, weekending at the ocean is an expensive proposition.

There's something reassuring about seeing so many 40-ish men in their tiny square-cut bathing suits. While body image is obviously as important among these gays as anywhere else, most in Rehomo are getting to an age where they really can't pull off the abs of death anymore. They still spend way more time at the gym than their straight, married-with-kids brothers. Yet there was a modest belly and even a thatch of chest hair sighted here and there above the Speedos. On the other hand, it was a preppy scene with its share of circuit boys, so honest-to-goodness bears didn't make much of a showing. The overall effect was something like I picture on a European beach, where the men tend to wear clothing just a tad too tight to be entirely flattering.

After the beach and a shower, we hit the town. Drinks at Blue Moon (like JR's but with a back deck sporting a cool retractable awning) were followed by the most amazing dinner at Planet X Cafe (where the waitstaff delighted the eyes as much as the food did the palate). By the time we arrived at 10pm, thumping house music had finally dispersed the dinner crowd out of Cloud 9. That was just a prelude to the real dance party at The Renegade, an odd combination of motel and warehouse dance club out on Highway 1, where we partied until about 1:30am, finally cabbing it home to the Atlantic Sands to call it a night. In the morning, we checked out, loaded up the car and belatedly figured out you can buy a permit to park in the residential neighborhood right near the gay beach (no more hiking!). A few more hours in the sun, then we headed for home.

Our brief stay at Camp Rehoboth was a fun and educational experience. Certainly, it's no celebration of diversity, but I can imagine it would be a lot of fun once you get to know the regulars. I overheard the comment that everyone on the beach is either catching rays or socializing. The local gay rags all refer to people by their first names. It's a scene that I wouldn't mind checking out in greater depth, so keep an eye out for a report on our return visit.