Me Seeking Men

Once in a while, I like to go on craigslist just to see what the dregs of society are up to. Also, lately I've been really desperate to find somebody to make out with. Dreg or not. Seriously. Dreg or not.

As with any forum for man-on-man action, the men can be easily categorized into several groups. First, there are the people with no pictures. These people are ugly. There are the people who use fake pictures of hot guys that obviously are not them. These people really want to lure you into their dark apartments so that they can stab you nine times. There are the people that only show their penis or butt. These people have faces that look worse than a penis or butt.

Then there are the hot guys. These hot guys are always straight-acting muscle-jocks that don't like fat people and minorities. Such is life.

Lastly, there are the picky guys. These guys have a preference for every single facet of your appearance and personality. Which is ironic because these guys are usually horribe little trolls.

Generally there is no creativity, no surprises, no hope on craiglist. However, three profiles did catch my eye. Here they are. Don't sue me either if this is you. My comments in red.

#1
no time for games. (which explains why you aren't on inklink right now)
bored as hell.
6'4", 190, brn, brn, athletic (fuck. me.)
GOTTA BE.......white (this makes me mad, but I would say the same), discreet, good shape (ugh), laid back, gf/wife extra points (should i bring her along...)
SEND PICS IF YOU WANT A REPLY

(pant, pant, pant)


#2
Looking for strictly a massage trade maybe with a happy ending too (STRICTLY...but maybe...). I'm 21, five ten, one seventy eight, athletic (fuck. me.), laid back and your average guy's guy (huh?). Looking for a normal guy (as opposed to a guy's guy) who's in decent shape (it's not too much fun to massage fat rolls) (you're a bitch), under 40, and interested in massage and good with his hands. Be pretty close by. Include a pic with your reply. Let me know, looking late here too.


(your chin and thumbs are so sexy)


#3
You: 18-late-20s, Caucasian or Latino (I have friends of other races, but I'm not sexually attracted to them. Sorry, nothing personal) (it is very admirable that you can find it in your heart to be friends with ugly minorities). I'd prefer you to be smooth/slightly hairy and height/weight proportionate (I don't need a body-builder, just someone in decent shape). Finally, I hope I'm not being too picky (wow, too late), but I prefer cut guys over uncut guys.

Stop Being Nice If We're Not Going to Make Out

I met the cutest guy in the entire world last semester when I was his TA and he was my student. I gave him an A+ just for being cute. I expected him to disappear once the semester ended but he found me on Facebook and started chatting with me a lot. This makes me seem like a pedophile. But actually, he is older than me by a few months. I'm just much smarter than he is.

So this Avg blonde cutie invited me to the bars near school on Thursday. I said no because I was scared. He invited me to the pool on Saturday. I said yes because I wanted to see him with his shirt off. He invited me to his house for a party that night. I said no because I was scared.

Obviously this is just one guy being friendly to another guy.

But.

Why does he keep asking to hang out like we're best friends when he barely knows me? I'm sure he has tons of other friends and we really don't have anything in common. I ALREADY GAVE YOU AN A, WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?

I want to believe that he is a closet homosexual and he wants me in bed / as a boyfriend.

But.

That is never the case.


It is day 11 of the summer diet of 2009 and I have lost 10 lbs.

Red is the New Dead

Yes, I am fine, I was not killed by the metro. Thanks for asking. Oh wait, nobody asked. Thanks for that.

Right now, every single person I know has their Facebook status as, "OMG I was on the metro!" Ok, you were going from NIH to Shady Grove in the other side of the city going the opposite direction. Don't be dramatic.

That's my job.

In my sophomore year of high school, I was right behind the other train that crashed on the red line. And I missed the earlier train because I bought a burrito right before boarding. So while I was stuck underground for 2 hours, I thanked that burrito and then ate it. Possible death and definite low blood sugar: averted. Chipotle solves everything.

Monday, I left Georgetown at 4:30 and transferred at Metro Center a little before 5:00. And I was fucking pissed I just missed the earlier train because clueless tourists with their fold-a-million-times maps always get in the way at Metro Center. But if I caught it, I might be dead! This deserves an exclamation point. Because I have cheated death twice.

Just kidding. There's no way I could have died in either of these situations. I always sit in the middle of the train (where people don't even know they've been in an accident). Also, I like to wedge myself between to impossibly obese people whose fat can absorb all the force of the impact.

But what this tells me is that the metro has designs for my life. And perhaps the third time will be the charm.

But right now, I am fine. Thanks for worrying. Oh wait, you weren't worried. Thanks for that.

It's My Diet and I'll Die If I Want To

On day three of the summer diet of 2009, I have officially lost 6 lbs. These results are encouraging. I am beginning to see the benefits of starving myself until I pass out in a heap on the ground at which point I eat a single peanut and one baby corn. But the initial weight loss is always rapid. The next 14 lbs will be the true test of my willpower, my determination, and my desire to be loved for my body as opposed to my personality. And the last 10 lbs will be easy because at that point I will have lost so much of my brain mass and my soul that I won't understand the feeling of hunger anymore. I will smile when that day comes.

I tell j-girl about the summer diet of 2009. I seem ridiculous because as I am telling her, we are eating fried risotto balls, drinking caipirinhas, and waiting for our pizza. She tells me I am ridiculous and says that if I lost 30 lbs I would be nothing. Her logic is flawed; she fails to notice that I am nothing already. Losing 30 lbs will actually make me something. Vogue Japan will make me something. She ignores this and suggests that we get Larry's Ice Cream. This is her effort to sabotage the summer diet of 2009. It works. Actually no, I can probably purge tonight's meal in the restaurant's bathroom or a trashcan on the way home. I immediately scan the premises for the bathroom or suitable trashcans.

Inside Larry's, a few guys at the tables are staring at me. I wish they wouldn't look at me until I've lost 30 lbs and gotten my hair cut, but they persist. And then the guy behind the counter tells me I have a sexy voice. This is too much. I have never been so insulted in my life. I grab j-girl. We have to leave.

Thanks for your continued support

After writing my last post, I was overcome with a sense of nostalgia. So I combed through old comments looking for bitchy remarks and more importantly, situations where retrospect has given me the upper hand. Needless to say, it was a mistake to rehash some of those old wounds and I probably spent the better part of an hour crying naked in the bathtub with the water running and the curtains drawn. But I did stumble across this gem:

Hey man, I just started reading your blog. Don't worry you are actually a pretty good writer.

This comment seemed to come unprovoked, which only furthered my righteous anger. The phrase "Don't worry" is used because he thinks his opinion, which he no doubt arrived at in 5 minutes, will make me feel better. The word "actually" is used because after 5 minutes, he already knows that neither he nor I have any faith in my ability to write or function at all as a human being. The word "pretty" is used because he doesn't really think I'm a good writer at all.

And it is somewhat insulting that he thinks a lukewarm response like that will make me feel better about myself. Wait, it's insulting that he took my self-deprecation seriously. And it's all very ironic because after visiting his blog, I came to my own 5 minute realization that he is actually a pretty terrible writer. Maybe the fact that he thinks I'm pretty good should make me feel even worse. Maybe that was his intention all along...

Speaking of pillars of support, mommy took one look at me today and said, "Fatty. You're fat. Don't get fatter." Of course this was in Chinese, but I feel as though her comments have lost very little potency in translation.

As a response, the summer diet of 2009 has commenced. I plan on losing 30 lbs by July 11. I want to be so skinny that I look like I'm dying. And when people ask me what the hell happened, I will tell them that mommy locked me in a cage all summer and deprived me of life's necessities: food, sunlight, cable television. And maybe when I'm that skinny, Vogue Japan will ask me to do an editorial spread for them. No doubt, one of the reader comments will read, "Fatty. You're fat. Don't get fatter." But this time, in Japanese.

Save the Drama for Obama

I once posted comment on some guy's blog (I forgot who) saying this:

"i'm pretty sure obama doesn't give a shit about gays. the fact that he defends civil unions does not offset the fact that everyone he is connected to believes we should die in a fiery pit."

Immediately, a catty bitch (I remember who) sent me an email telling me how stupid I was and how I should read a book or something. He even devoted an entire blog entry to me, saying, "If one makes that sort of inflamatory claim, there ought to be some evidence, IMHO."

Nevermind that this schoolteacher can't spell inflammatory and uses a few too many preteen-esque abbreviations. He has other things to feel stupid about right now.

Becauuuuuuuuuuuuuse

Obama has chosen to actively defend the Defense of Marriage Act, saying it saves taxpayer money. After all, marriage benefits shouldn't be doled out willy nilly in these tough economic times and everybody knows gays are an unnecessary extravagance. (Or is it they are unnecessarily extravagant?)

Obama also stated that the DOMA protects against things like incest and child rape. Although the fact that he likened gay marriage to incest and child rape is irksome, the real question is: How was his trip to Paris? Did he find time to visit the Louvre and the Arc de Triomphe? Did Sasha and Malia have an enjoyable time?

Lastly, Obama warned that gay marriage laws should not be compared with interracial marriage laws (you know, the ones that allowed his parents to get married) because the civil rights of blacks are inherently more important than those of gays. I would think the similar plights would give gays and blacks some common ground. But if Noah's Arc (the tv series, not the boat) is any indication, gay themes and black people don't always mix and mesh.

So all of this has occurred even though he pledged to repeal the DOMA while campaigning. As I predicted, Obama talked up all the wide-eyed, overly-optimistic gays just to get their votes. Now that he's in office he can do whatever he wants. He can go on late night talk shows all the time. Which isn't really unexpected. You win elections on the far left but you certainly can't govern effectively over there. You govern by betraying your supporters and going on late night talk shows. Either way, he has thrown gays under the bus and this just shows that he really doesn't give a shit about gays. IMHO.

Gayzies Crazies

Sometimes I wonder if this gayness comes with a certain amount of mental instability. For instance, as I watch Gabrielle Solis get thrown under the bus for sleeping with a high school boy on Desperate Housewives, I have to admit that sleeping with a high school boy is actually a lofty goal of mine. And as I watch three college girls on 20/20 cry about gangrape, I recall that as a child I always dreamed of getting raped by 10 guys from a community college baseball team.

And I have to wonder if normal people think about these things the same way I do. Is there some reason that instead of viewing these acts with disgust I kinda sorta maybe wish they would happen to me? Do I only think this way because I am a sex-crazed predatory gay fixated on only two things: hot ass and designer eyewear?

At any rate, I'm a little worried about myself. I am flirting with the notion of preemptively registering on the list of sex offenders. But you know, only to meet other cute sex offenders.

Why can't my sexual thoughts be wholesome, just like those of boring straight people.