Some More Webdate Excuses Only a Child Molesting Priest Would Believe

Posting for Thursday, August 26, 2010

“I think I’m coming down with the flu.” (“swine flu,” “bubonic plague,” “Ebola virus” – you fill in the disease of the month). Enough said.  That’s why God created Alka-Seltzer.

You’re at his place, waiting for him to answer your cell call that you’ve arrived, and YOU GET VOICE MAIL.

“I don’t know if I’ll be in the mood for sex when you come.” Excuse me? Are you going through male menopause and you lied about your age in your profile? (Perish the thought!) Or have all those steroids you’ve been taking finally shrunk your nuts to the size of peas?

“Some out-of-town friends just called and they want me to meet them for drinks.” Or if he’s vacationing, “My friends want to go shopping.” You’re passing up dick for chitchat or some new rag?!? Your homo license has just been revoked. What’s the point of being a homosexual if you don’t “homo” when you have opportunity??

“I really dig you but I burned both my hands in an accident and I won’t be able to play for a few weeks. But I’ll put you on my buddy list!” What, were you doing coke and grabbed the pipe from your fuck buddy the wrong way? And as far as the buddy list goes, don’t waste the keystrokes – it’s like being put on one of those “abandoned bank accounts” lists.

Should you be in a situation where you don’t have a place (lover, wife, mother are in the way), and you say that in all your profile shit (“You must have place. I can’t host.”), and you’ve gone on with the guy back and forth with enough nasty e-mails to impeach the President, he suddenly wakes up out of his alcoholic/meth/crack stupor, and says, “gee, but I live with my mother.” God bless the blind!

And my all time webdate excuse winner (and I did not make this one up, folks): “I’d love you to fuck me tonight but I don’t have a place, don’t have a car, and can’t travel.” Huh? What did you think this was, a prayer meeting website and you were on your knees to be closer to God, not my dick? Oh, I thought Dick was God. Sorry.

So what do you do when this happens to you? (a) Play with yourself; (b) go to and play with yourself; (c) go to and play with yourself;  (d) flip back and forth from one to the other til Peter’s happy; (e) see if a fuck buddy is available for a quickie; (f) see if you can line up some lonely fuck on the web last minute and take a hit of coke to get in a fantasy mode; (g) gather all those quarters you get as change when you play amateur alcoholic on Saturday nights and hit the local sex club or bath house and hope for the best; (h) take a sedative or strong drink to deaden your Viagra high; (i) promise Peter you’ll take care of him with your first Woody of the morning. 

And, please, don’t waste your time sending off a tirade to the guy who fucked you and then block him, that is, if he hasn’t blocked you first.  Remember, he’s already brain dead.

Tomorrow: Flickers: Urban Gay Men Who Think The Grass Is Always Greener Someplace Else

(c) RP Andrews Enterprises

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