An Open Letter To Out-Of-Towners Coming to Town Who Hit Me Up On The Web
Yea, for somebody like me who lives in Lauderdale most of the time, it’s great to connect with new meat or meet a nice guy from out of town in town on vacation or business. But Jesus, you guys sometimes also drive me fucken crazy, so please, read this:
First off, I know you owe me nothing by hitting me up weeks in advance, saying you wanna connect and then get here and never materialize. I get it. Something better came along or you’re staying at one of those clothing optional gay guesthouses where anything goes. But if you are sincere about making it:
1. No endless texts or e-mails please. Or asking me what I’m into. It’s all in my profile down to shots of my cock and furry butt, and you should do the same. Having a profile with one pic – usually YOUR dick or ass – and everything else an “ask me,” is TOTALLY worthless.
2. If we sound like we’re on the same page, let’s not make setting up a time, date and place like trying to solve the federal debt. If you and/or I are that unavailable, let’s move on.
3. Please, please please, have your own place, not stay with friends or family or sixteen buddies, or worse, your partner. Lauderdale is a town of philandering partners – I’m one of them – and we count on you out-of-towners to have a place to fuck. I ain’t dropping $$ on a motel or bath house room unless we’ve met and/or done it before. And don’t tell me to meet you in one of the bath house whorehouses. If I have to drop $$ to go in, I’m a free agent, and by the same token, so are you, which means I may end up searching for you all night while you’re fornicating with some hottie you met ten minutes after you walked in.
4. Do not ask me to rendezvous with you in a bar or a parking lot or wherever, without face pics. My pics are all current and shit if I’m going to be judged by someone who I don’t even recognize.
5. Don’t tell me you wanna fuck and in the next breath, ask if I got buddies to join in. I’m not your pimp.
6. Don’t tell me you wanna fuck and then put up walls like you gotta go bowling or shopping or, Christ, to the gym first. I’m your work-out, remember?
7. And please no surprises. Don’t show up clean shaven when I got off on your bearded pic, or bald and stoop shouldered when you’re supposed to be athletic. Ten year old pics aren’t just fraudulent, they’re criminal, and I’ll ask for my gas money back. Or don’t tell me you’re a bottom and start fucking around with my manhole. One guy who misled me and came in looking like his father, figuring I was going to give him a pity fuck, was surprised when after teasing his dried up, stretched out cuntish manhole with the tip of my cock, I asked him politely how old his pictures were, then threw him the fuck out. He dressed so quick, he forgot his socks.
Other than that, come on down!