"Are you sure?" Solomon Georgio asks the audience on his new stand-up album, Homonegro Superior, out now on Comedy Central Records. "I need permission from everyone in this room before I proceed."
The crowd cheers, and he proceeds to lay it all out: "So, I once fisted a man." What follows is an intimate three and a half minute description that ends up being both hilarious and humanizing. (The joke is embedded below—the phrases "human muppet" and "like a Jackson Pollock painting" are employed.)
By this point in Georgio's album, you've heard a joke called "AIDS from Scratch" and another about how straight men who refuse to go down on women are "the gayest thing in the world." The first thing he makes clear to us, after apologizing for how amazing he looks, is that he's gay as hell. So you kind of know what you're in for. But Georgio has a preternatural ability to make experiences that might seem extreme—like fisting someone, or growing up the gay child of "very religious, very uptight" African immigrants, or getting harassed about whether he has a "big chocolate dick" on Grindr—relatable, somehow.
In advance of his appearance last night on Conan, he shared a few of his most mind-boggling hookup stories in an interview with VICE. He told us he's been off the market and in a relationship for a year now; "As a person and in bed, he's pretty wonderful," he said. "I can't imagine ever having to endure Grindr again." Below is a small sample of why.
Grindr first hit its stride when I was 27 or 28, and I had a stint on Craigslist before that. But when I was a teenager, I was into party lines—where you'd leave a voice message, and people would hit you up that way. Those were the ancient times I came from, way pre-Tinder. And that's how I lost my virginity.
I called the line one night and said I was a "19-year-old virgin," which meant I got a thousand voicemails immediately. And my first hookup flat-out lied. He said he was a 28-year-old soccer player, and he wasn't. So I ended up losing my virginity to a 55-year-old Native American drag queen in a Ford F150 parked behind a Texaco about two blocks away from my parents' house.
But I was also 16 and needed to have sex. For the first 15 minutes, he told me his life story, and then I was just like, "Let's get this over with." So he gave me a blowjob and assumed I would reciprocate, and I unfortunately was ill prepared to do that, so I was like, "Well, I have to be somewhere else now, bye," and I ran to meet my friends for milkshakes at Denny's. And what did I tell them? That I lost my virginity to a 28-year-old soccer player. I'm sure they were very impressed.
I'm all for trying situations where someone wants me to be more dom. And I did give it a go, but usually, it ends up where I kind of start telling them what to do? I had one guy who was like, "I want you to tell me what to do, whatever it is." And I got as aggressive as I could and lasted the whole time—I was very proud of myself for that. But then I kept going as he was leaving, and he was like, "You can back it up a little. You don't have to be mean anymore." Like, I don't know where the rules end or begin. Are we doing this outside of the house or just in bed? You gotta lay down the guidelines. Maybe you should be a little more dominant if you want me to tell you what to do.
One guy made me aggressively pinch his nipples the whole time, from the word "go." Just aggressively, like wearing-out-my-fist style. It was like latching onto a climbing wall, and he was very insistent. You don't know what pinching is until you're five minutes in and like, "OK, I'm tired now."
Someone I hooked up with wanted to have sex in public, and I was like, "I have a roof—let's do it up there." But it was an angled roof, and the sort of thing where you can stand on it fine, but when you're about to orgasm, you kind of lose your footing. We almost slid 15 feet. I wasn't sober, by the way. I was a pretty drunk person, on a roof, trying to have sex. So the fact I'm alive [is impressive]. And I never finished. Something about almost dying was just a major turnoff.
One guy I hooked up with three times, and he said "I love you" every time. That was evocative. But for some weird reason, I didn't run out—I was like, you know what? I'll say it right back.
It was right as we were making out, clothes still fully on, and he would say it. And I don't know why we hooked up three more times. But I said to myself, you know what? It's nice to have someone say "I love you" to me during sex. I'll enjoy it in this moment and never let it happen to me again. As much as I knew it was absolutely insane to say that, that is quite possibly the most polite thing you can say to anyone. It's like, "Oh, wow, I never thought I could feel love in this situation that quickly. I appreciate that." I think I said it once the second time, and I don't think I said it the third time, and he was very unhappy that I didn't, so I was like, "OK, it's maybe good for me to not say it back."
Then there was one Craigslist hookup—it was one of those things where he didn't send me pictures of his face, and I didn't send him any of mine.
I met him after a long email exchange, back and forth for three weeks. When we finally hooked up, he was actually living in the same apartment building as me, on the floor down. And he didn't want me to look directly at him or touch his penis at all. But I also am his neighbor, so I knew what he looked like—he would try to maintain the "you don't know who I am" sort of thing, but I'm like, you're right here. It was sort of weird because it didn't feel like he was trying to hide his homosexuality, especially because we lived in the gayest part of Seattle, Capitol Hill. It was very confusing, like sex had to be on those terms for him. I don't want you to look at me. I don't want you to bother me. I just want you to fuck me in the ass and get the hell out of my house.
But we never ran into each other in the apartment building. I think he was mostly a recluse. I'd see him briefly around the building, but, yeah, I fucked a hermit. Also, to be fair, I also never take real nude pictures of my body. It's funny, when people ask me for dick pics, what I'll do instead is look for another black penis online with the same look as mine. Because it's like, first I have to get a boner, then I have to set up lighting, then I have to take a picture? I don't want to do all that. It's much easier to type "eight inch black dick" into the internet and go, "it's mine!" and send it out. I'm selective about the photographs I put out in the world. I don't want to send out a half-assed dick pic and be like, "This is who I am." If someone else puts the work in and I can see that my penis is in it, that's 95 percent of what you'll get. The scrotal skin might not be exactly the same, but it's very close. The essence of my penis is what I'm sending.