Things I Won't Do

I was home alone after midnight last night, and I was horny (again), so I figured I'd go for some phone sex. Phone sex is one of those things that I'm very good at (the bass voice is the key), but I'm in the mood for only rarely, so usually I just ring up a guy in Jersey City who likes being woken up after midnight if I say dirty things to him.

But I got his voicemail, so I hopped on the old gay.com, where I never have to wait long because -- in the phone room, anyway -- bottoms outnumber tops by about fifteen to one. And I was all set to get going on some overly staged but potentially amusing roleplay scene, when the guy said that he wanted to be just getting home from work and wearing, among other things, "tassel loafers."

(First of all, why is it "tassel loafers" instead of "tasseled loafers"? I'd also accept "tasselled loafers," because I'm that generous a man. But, ok, I recognize that the fashion industry likes to fuck with the language, and, well, it is customary not to debate matters of usage when one is negotiating phone sex.)

Then the conversation went something like:

Teddy: It's just a roleplay, right? I mean, you don't really wear tassel [sic; ugh] loafers to work, do you?
Mystery Guy: Yes, I do.
T: Oh. So you're in sales?
MG: No. I'm a govt wonk.

And then I clicked off and went to watch some porn. I mean, I'll do fat guys from time to time, but I won't go near fatuous.

(Apologies to any of you who wear tasseled loafers, but come on. Cut the tassels off and burn them or donate them to the Earrings for Lesbians foundation. Some day you'll thank me.)