Bridges in Flames

In the context of online hooking up, when a guy flakes once, sometimes it pays to give him a second chance. But more often it doesn't, and a third chance is almost never in order.

I break this rule occasionally, and it almost always comes back to bite me. I don't expect myself to be perfect, so I don't beat myself up too much for my own failings, but I try to avoid falling prey to them again. There were two cases on point from last night. I went over to Columbia to meet up with some friends and see, the gods help me, Mamma Mia and then have dinner. I determined rather quickly that I had better leave my critical mind at the door and enjoy the ride of the movie, so I have nothing to say about it, except to note that the juvenile male lead has very nice nipples. Dinner was much better than one might expect from a place called, I shit you not, "Champps." No, seriously, what is with that extra p?



Anyway, I had, I thought, two guys queued up for the late night session: I knew I'd be home in time to do both. One was the fifty-two-year-old virgin, and the other was a guy who's been answering my CL ads for some time but who's never quite followed through. He had reasonable excuses in the past, though, and it had been a while since his last flake, and -- most importantly -- he's local. So I gave him a chance. I gave him my cell number and told him to call me after 10. I'd told the 52YOV that I'd email him when I got home. I got home around 10:30, and there'd been no call from Mr. Reliable, so I emailed 52YOV, and he responded fairly quickly, but with an annoying "What do you remember about me?" I told him what I remembered, then I didn't hear for a while,. so I sent him an online message, and he said he was horny and then asked me to tell him about me. I was a bit taken aback: "Dude, I'm the first guy who fucked you. You don't remember?" He apologized and said he was just tired, but when I asked him if he was too tired to get fucked, he said no. Then he asked me what street I lived on, said he remembered the house (it's on the corner), and said he'd be over in twenty or thirty minutes. I said fine, and I emailed Mr. Reliable to remind him that I was home.

An hour later, I send 52YOV an email telling him that he's a douchebag, and an hour after that, I get an email back saying that he went to the wrong house and there was a strange car there and the person who answered the door wasn't me, and he thought my partner was home early, so he said he was at the wrong house and left. So now you can see my dilemma: should I be more annoyed that he stood me up or that he insulted my intelligence with that lame bullshit excuse? Enough is enough. I told him that I'd always been honest with him and that I understand the ambivalence of the inexperienced but that he was no longer a cute-but-shy inexperienced guy: he was now just an asshole. I told him never to contact me again. I mean, I can't spend the next three years cultivating this guy: I have better ways to squander my youth. (Oh shut up.)

This morning, I got an email from Mr. Reliable saying that he had fallen asleep. A quick search through the gmail confirms that I've seen this excuse before. It's decent, as excuses go, but if you've been looking forward to my cock as much as you say you have, and you've promised to call me after ten and then come over, maybe, I don't know, set an alarm or something? "I fell asleep" usually means "I went to bed." In his case, almost certainly alone, but still.

Anyway, the following email exchange ensued. From TED:

I've checked back through my records, and over the past year or so, we've had no fewer than five sets of email exchanges where you've said you were hot to be fucked, then we've set a time to play, and you've failed to follow through, always with some lame excuse. When you answered the ad this time, I didn't mention them because I thought maybe you'd gotten over whatever your problem is. But I've finally figured out that you're not shy or nervous about hooking up, you're simply a douchebag.

There's only one person who runs an ad from [my town] with a picture of my cock. In future, when you see such an ad, remember that it's me and that I have no interest in putting up with any more of your shit. Do not contact me again. Find someone else to stand up instead.

From Mr. Reliable:

MY AREN'T WE FUCKING RUDE.

From TED:

Yes, you are. Not showing up without calling or sending a message is, indeed, fucking rude, especially when it happens multiple times. I am heartened to see that you have some understanding of your rudeness, though I'm troubled to find that you do not understand the meaning of "Do not contact me again." I am equally troubled by your use of the royal we.

There was certainly some pique on my part last night, but it was greatly ameliorated by the appearance at my door of a semi-cute, half-Asian submissive, in the wee hours of the morning. He was screaming so loudly (if somewhat unconvincingly) about how much "[YOUR] HUGE COCK" hurt that I eventually pulled out of him, which earned me a "YOU'RE NOT STOPPING, ARE YOU?" So I didn't stop.

Anyway, I wasn't especially angry when I sent either kiss-off email. (Or maybe I wasn't angry after I sent them. There is something that's very therapeutic about telling someone off when they're clearly in the wrong.) I just wanted to make sure that if I make the same mistake again, at least it's with someone new and hot. I have standards to maintain, after all.