Saturday, May 19, 2012

the art of the deal


[why this post?  because sometimes it's fun to try and see if i can turn the little everyday nothins' into somethin']


one of the problems with being a middle-aged boyhound is that the really choice targets tend to suffer from the misconception that they hold all the power, a delusion which is only reinforced by all the desperate daddies out there, and one which must be broken if (for me, anyway) full enjoyment is to be gained from the experience.

the truth is, daddies, they need you just as much as you need them--it's just a matter of getting them to understand this.

in gaining the necessary upper hand, i've found the guttermorality indifference technique to be invaluable, coupled with a little advice i once got from good ol' uncle don way back when i was a lad:

"when it comes to any deal, mike, you gotta care, but not too much."

of course, uncle don would be rolling in his urn if he had any idea how i'm using that advice today, but whatever--here's a recent case in point.



now, right off the bat, there are at least two things in the above that would normally disqualify this boy from consideration, but the accompanying picture tells me he is so totally up my alley in every possible way (and yours too, trust me)--plus he's far away, short on time and lives with roommates--that i'm willing to give him the car.

the blindfold?  that's something else entirely, because it implies a degree of anonymity that's generally a dealbreaker for me, no matter how hot they are.  so i ask him.


and, sure enough


i do the pleasure/pain equation.  he's hot and wild enough that it'll probably be good even without my mouth getting anywhere near his.  but he's also obviously used to calling the shots with the old guys, and i decide if i can't change that--put a dent in his bubble, alter the balance of power a little--i'm willing to walk away.  plus, his replies are coming back so quick, i sense a weakness in his position.  i wait five minutes, hit him back with


well, you can practically hear the howls of disbelief all the way from torrance--this is not a boy who's accustomed to being turned down, especially by the likes of me.


mercy kissing?  i don't think so.  besides, kid's tipped his hand--he wants it more than me.


and, just like that, he gives it up.


i magnanimously agree to come down, just so long as he understands that i expect him to hold up his end of the deal.  but he can't resist one more try for the upper hand.

nope.


and, you know what?  he did.


sorry, readers--if i have to suffer, then so do you


because, really, following a blog is all about living vicariously through its author as he traverses the ups and downs of his endlessly glamorous and fascinating life, right?

yeah, unless you come here--then, all you get is another installment of the mistake who will not die.




i'm thinking if i could figure out a way to connect with my fellow victims (because they have to be legion), maybe between us we could scrape up enough cash for the coffin and silver dildo it'd take to put this beast to rest.

a craigslist ad should do it, complete with picture and vivid description.

could i be that mean?  at this point, i'm thinking yeah, i could.  i'll keep you posted.

Tuesday, May 15, 2012

my magic wand opens many doors


so tonight i'm doing a little mild surfing of one of my favored hookup sites preparatory to heading off to bed, and, there amongst the tired regulars, i spot a fresh new face.

what's extra-adorable about this 24-year-old's profile is that he's got it all done up in a harry potter motif, which totally complements his insistence that, unlike all us depraved sex pigs, he's new to the game and is just looking to chat and make friends.

uh-huh.

so, consistent with my duties as self-appointed welcoming committee for the newbies, i fire off a quick, friendly email warning him that no one on the site is to be trusted but me, and move on.  (this little gambit is generally ignored about 90% of the time, but i persist because it's the 10% who reply that keeps things interesting--god, i really should be an insurance salesman.)

this one hits me back, we chat innocently a few minutes, and, outta several face pics i keep on hand, i text him the one i figure will most closely fit his needs, and the following exchange occurs:


yeah, looming over him.


and outta the mouth of this babe in his lil' dumbledore t-shirt, here it comes, pretty much as i'd expected:


he's far away so he probably won't, and if he does we won't do most of the above, but it just goes to show that when it comes to boys these days, a top who's been around can almost always can judge a book by its cover.

and really, i should probably stop bitching about the decline of the american family and thank the sexual revolution for sending all these lost, daddyless boys my way.

but i can't quite bring myself to do it.