Kevin, you have become undateable to me, ever since you put up that picture of you smiling, shirtless, stroking your fleshy, pink hard-on in your online profile.
Now, why did you go and do that? Did you really think that we could still whisk away to happily-ever-after, after you've put up these pics? Could you have at least cropped your face out of the photo? Then at least everybody who sees it online will just assume that the picture is fake and belongs to some skanky 80 year-old geezer in a homophobic red state. That's what I did on my online profile.
I mean, who can tell anyway? These profiles, these pictures never tell the truth. When I first put up a pic of an asshole on my website, my ex-boyfriend hired a lawyer to remove the offending picture of his face. Since I won't be dating you, you won't ever have to worry about me sending your boss your naked picture when we eventually break-up. Our relationship has ended before it started.
I realize of course that dating doesn't have to end up in a relationship--and many people who go on dates don't--but I don't think that I even want to spend an appetizer or a movie ticket on you. Normally, to lubricate our way to the path between your legs, I would've at least would've bought you a cocktail garnished with the date-rape drug du jour. But now, not so much. You've proven that you don't have the self-esteem to lie on your profile and put up fake pictures. I can't date you--what would my friends think?
I had been harboring fantasies of you and me running off away together, ever since I first found your profile in gay.com. I imagined the two of us adopting children together from fashionable third-world countries: China, Malawi, Compton.
I imagined sophisticated names that will look attractive on a vellum business card or a glossy porno box, like Rafe or Britney. We would all adopt your last name MusclJock, as stated on your gay.com profile. If you prefer, we could hyphenate: No Milk MusclJock-Please. Or does No Milk Please-MusclJock sound better?
Sigh. In my mind's eye, I could see Britney, Rafe and I playing with my collection of Barbie dolls, still mint-in-box. We would gleefully dust and catalog the Barbie collection and bid on rare items on eBay. For Halloween, Britney would be a beautiful pink princess. Rafe could be one too--it's not like we'd need to shave his legs until he's thirty if he takes after me. If he takes after you, we may want to start saving for his depilatory/college fund early.
These dreams are slowly dying; it breaks my heart not to be able to drag our beautiful kids to soccer practice, recitals or a sweatshop, if we needed the extra cash for a suede couch.
I could put up the picture of you here for the people who occasionally read this blog, so people can admire your pink member, but I am afraid that you will get mad at me. Because even though we won't be dating, I would never, ever, want to jeopardize the possibility of our hooking-up.
(If you ever return my IMs, I'll send you the naked photo I took of myself in the shower)
Special Dispensation - Only the Pope, or my friend Matt, can grant me a special dispensation to date Kevin.
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