I know I’m getting old because last night my friend told me that he wanted to set me up on a date with someone. I asked him who, and he showed me a picture. In a moment of chagrin, I had to let him know, “Actually, I already fucked that guy. Eight years ago.” Ah, yes, the life and times of hoing.


Are my dreams just the thoughts that my thoughts have when they think I’m not paying attention?


I went to a gay party for the first time in a long time last night, and suddenly I was awash with that familiar feeling of actually being comfortable among the other people at the bar. This feeling was immediately ensued by a sense of knowing that I probably don’t belong here because I’m 100% straight, after which tucked my tail between my legs and hightailed it out of there. I miss going to art parties and hanging out with the weirdos. Where have all the weirdos gone?


Up until two years ago, pretty much everyone I fucked lived within a five block radius of me – there were at least ten of them out here. It was my golden age of fucking. Then gentrification kicked in with a vengeance, and now I am bearing witness to the death of the neighborhood fuck buddy. Thanks a lot, white people, you really harshed my dick game.


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