If Joan Rivers were working the red carpet at the annual M4M parade of profiles, she would stop every guy and ask, “What are you into?”
You will get that joke if you have ever posted an online profile on a pick-up site. Notice I did not say dating site because when was the last time two Gay men met online, went to dinner and a movie, kissed good night on the porch, and went their separate ways?
Tuesday in a trailer park.
Let’s face it. If you have a profile on any of the available sites and apps out there, you are not just on there to look at the pretty pictures. You are looking to find someone to help you relieve yourself of all that built-up tension from a hard week at work, or you are just looking to spray your load on someone’s back. The reason you want to spray it on his back is that after you go back and forth chatting for an hour and examine his pictures, he will show up at your door fifteen years and fifteen pounds later. By that point, you have already committed yourself to having relations, so you decide the only way to achieve a climax is to avoid looking at his face and to keep the lights as low as possible. There is a reason old couples get cataracts.
There are times when you realize there aren’t enough light blocking curtains at Bed, Bath & Beyond to go from flaccid to turgid. That is when the little blue pill comes in handy. Just be sure you haven’t accidentally taken an Aleve, or you will be doing your Bonobo monkey face as you try to beat your little friend into something everyone can enjoy.
Closing the deal, engaging in man-on-man action within the hour, changing the sheets, showering and peeing, and trying to forget what just happened are not the only parts of online hook-up sites that are time consuming and a pain in the ass.
Getting through the initial bull shit is a large part of what makes the difference between a solo appearance and a group effort.
While online hook-up sites enable you to have a more elaborate profile with more pictures of yourself than your parents took during your first year of life – and you thought they took a lot of pictures of your naked ass in a bathtub – the app sites like Scruff and Grindr provide you with a more concise way of making your presentation and highlighting the benefits of twenty-three minutes of passion in your boudoir.
Or so I thought …
All of us have a fetish. Don’t tell me you don’t. You may say you are vanilla, but there are many different types of vanilla, and the most popular is French. In addition, all of us have at least one thing we won’t do.
I have thirty-seven.
Thanks to the internet, some of us with weird fetishes have found each other, and we no longer feel alone. Remember when you thought you were the only Gay man in the world? Now you feel as if you are the only man who wants to get pounded into next week by a man dressed like Joan Crawford who quotes lines from Mommie Dearest.
I know one guy who has just experienced a tightening in his pants.
I used to have three things I wouldn’t do, but every week, something new comes along, and I have to clarify that I have no interest in covering myself in cookie dough and saying, “Have you been a good boy?” to a guy wearing a diaper and lying in an oversized bassinet.
All seriousness aside, the profiles that fascinate me the most are the ones that read like a manifesto. There are profiles online that are at least seven-hundred words – or that many paragraphs. These guys list their philosophy on life and what they prefer in the bedroom and where they see themselves in five years and what music they prefer and what inspires them the most and where they have traveled. Funny thing is these are the ones who tell you they are not looking for a hook-up but turn out to be the biggest sluts in town. Which begs the question: When do they find the time between tricks to write all this crap?
You would think with the apps like Scruff and Grindr, they wouldn’t go to the trouble of writing an essay, especially since you have to use a virtual keyboard, but that doesn’t stop them! How blistered are their thumbs? I can’t reply to a text without misspelling every other word. Granted I have big hands – oh, I need to mention that in my profile.
More importantly, don’t these self-absorbed, narcissistic whores know that Gay men can’t read?
All Gay men can do is spot a hot picture, click on the “woof” icon and hope for a response. Also, why woof? I thought the prominent mammal in the Gay community was a bear? Not dogs. Bears growl. Shouldn’t it be the “grrr” icon?
Do straight people go through all this?
My profile is clear and concise, and it is only two sentences. “I have a fetish, and I would love to find someone who would engage in it with me. I do not engage in this, that or the other thing, so don’t ask if I will.” As a matter of fact, my fetish is in my profile name so as not to confuse anyone.
With two sentences, you would think I am able to cut through all the bull shit. Well, you are most definitely wrong. At least ninety percent of the guys who contact me ask me if I will engage in this, that or the other thing. I always respond, “Read my profile.” Then they respond, “Oh.” Then, they ask me why I won’t engage in this that or the other thing. That is when I ignore them.
I am fifty-fucking years old. If I don’t want to engage in this, that, or the other thing, I won’t.
There are the ones who don’t ask you anything but send you pictures of various body parts, some of them actually theirs. Just when I thought I had seen everything, the other day I was sent a bunch of pictures from someone I know who has a high-level job in a certain country’s government. In every picture, he was engaged in a sex act. Of course, I looked at the pictures and marveled at how flexible he was for a fifty-year-old with a big belly. But, doesn’t this idiot know that I can save every one of those pictures on my phone? When I sell them to the Enquirer, he will claim someone spammed his account. Yeah right.
My favorite is when they ask me, “What are you into?” Seriously? It is in my profile name.
Lately, I have been answering the “what are you into” question with, “Marchesa, Spring 2013.”
I don’t watch Fashion Police for nothing.
Am I worried about someone looking for my profile and figuring out my fetish. No because Gay men can’t read! And apparently, they don’t have boundaries either.
Anyone want to see those pictures? Give me your PayPal ID, and I will invoice you. Hey, a girl has to make a buck.
If you are illiterate, buy my book, you can look at the pretty pictures. Go to www.miltonstern.com.