I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: I don’t care whether you’re in the heart of some urban gay ghetto where gay guys are as plentiful as the cockroaches, or in the boonies where there are 1.2 gay men in a 25 mile radius, I’m convinced more and more of you (not me, baby) are on the web to fantasize, not connect. A guy half a country or world away e’s me that he wants me to fuck him all night but if I respond that I’ll be in his neck of the woods in a week, suddenly he’s got excuses why he can’t make it. (Waiting for blinds for his new apartment – yes!) And local boys hot to trot either have the schedule of the President or after an initial, “you’re so hot man!” fade into cyberspace when you try to pin them down.
Is it because guys are deceitful in their profiles or pics? Or stuck with a wife or partner and can’t do anything? Or is it that more and more guys are content with the fantasy – after all you can make his dick size exactly what you want, right? So why let reality fuck that all up?
I particularly detest the guys who either 15 minutes before or after they were supposed to be in your bed, and after that “clean as a whistle” shower you really didn’t need, or worse, after that 50 mg. of Viagra meal so you would be up and at it, e or text you a “sorry – can’t make it” excuse (notice they’ll almost never talk to you on the phone – that’s just too intimate):
“Sorry, I didn’t tell you. I don’t have a car.” You live in some suburban sprawl or rural nowhere and can’t afford a car? Are you also missing your right ball? You think anywhere in the world is a bicycle ride away? Or do you have so many DWI’s you’ll see your license in the next life?
“Someone stole my bike (scooter) (wheelchair) (walker with wheels).” See above.
“My car’s in the shop. Can you come here?” Your car couldn’t break down the day before or after our date? Odd, ain’t it? “Here” is usually at least 30 miles away. More likely, he’s too lazy to drive to your place. He just wants to you walk in, do him, and leave.
“My very closest childhood friend just took ill,” or “A close friend of mine in (fill in the city at least a thousand miles way) suddenly died.” I was in the bathhouses the week my father was laid out, so you’re talking to the wrong person.
“My boss just called. I have to go into work.” You mean you have one of those low end minimum wage jobs where you can’t even predict your schedule an hour in advance?
“I got hurt today at the gym.” You mean you got hurt earlier that afternoon by a fuck gone bad. You were hanging off the bed when he was plowing you, there was too much lube up your ass, and you slipped off.
“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.
“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 last night 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.
“I’d love to connect tonight but it’s gotta be after ‘American Idol.’” You’re passing up a hot fuck to watch some fruits sing on TV?
“Sure, I’ll come over, but can I spend the night? I just got into town. I’m 45 years old, I don’t have a car, don’t have a job, and don’t have a place to stay.” Sure – duh?
Then there’s the 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 dirty e-mails to impeach a President, when 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 xtube.com and play with yourself; (c) go to squirt.org 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 from a ten dollar bill when you play amateur alcoholic in the bars 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.
But, please, don’t waste your time sending off a tirade to the guy who fucked you before you block him, that is, if he hasn’t blocked you first.
Remember, he’s already brain dead.
Tomorrow: Another blog from our guest blogger, Edmon Armstrong – “Why I Like Men.”