The Dating Game

Time to get pro-active on every front of my life,
I finally realized. "Nice" and polite does little good
in any situation. Timidity is a tool of the masters
to command our subjugation. Bunk that shit.

I have gone a-looking' for my needs to be met in any
form or fashion. I can't find anyone around this Jethro
Jamboree, and I don't have the funds to move, so I have
cast a wider net. Internet dating.

I started this weekend and was very specific about
my wants and needs; there's no point mincing words
and wasting anyone's time with this nonsense. Again;
politeness helps folks miss out on life.

Sometimes, somebody just needs to step up to the
plate and ask, balls out; "Wanna fuck?"

No more shame, no more manners, no more subtlety.

No more worrying, no more waiting, no more fear.

I am tired of being disheartened by the lack of people
who know what they want. I am bored by people who
are afraid of what they want. I am disgusted by people
who are picky, nit-picky, confused, wishy-washy,
and everything else that the average Southwest Georgia
man dealing with the incompatibility of wanting to smoke
pole in a conservative, homophobic, backwater town.

(For those paying attention; NO, I don't want to be here
any more than you want me here, and as mentioned, I
am without means of a one-way ticket Gone! So be
creative, and have you a Possum-Pussy Eating Contest
and raise some funds to send my ass elsewhere. Very little
effort involved to make everybody happy.)

So, I widened my search.

I also abandoned utterly my quest for true love...that lying
whore or a myth. F*** a happy ending. F*** a romance.
F*** a commitment. "Nobody's on nobody's side." To be free
of illusions, to be free of entrapments, to be free of lies and
false promises is a blessed freedom.

I want military precision;
Get in, Do the Job,
Get Out.
Don't Leave Anything Behind.

You don't have to go home, but you can't stay here.

I don't even want them slowing down to shit, shower, or
shave before they hop a rail. Just skedaddle. I got what I
needed.

Yes, a mercenary, heartless bastard. It is my most fervent
wish in the world to become such a creature. To bottom-line it.
To be spared drama and emotions and feelings and games.
Right up front there's a neon sign; NO STRINGS ATTACHED.

I don't want to be a mother or father, a pastor, a best friend,
a bartender, a nursemaid, a banker. I just want some slob
on my knob. When did such a simple endeavor become so
difficult?

It wouldn't be so damnably exasperating if every Cooter
Daltry and Sue Belle McGee in the city weren't hitting it 24/7! Where's
the justice when simple, ugly bitches can knock boots with ease
and good looking, educated folks have to endure long dry winters...
and summers....and cold showers....and blue balls.....

So I have gotten several responses to my ads, but of course
there are always logistics such as distance, timing, personal
taste, and so on. No surprise; you have to go through a lot to
find compatible matches. These things take time.

I swear if I could sell my shit without fear of getting caught,
I'd be back on the damned streets. But it's too old and too
worn out for anybody to pay for, and I don't feel
like having the cops around here hassle me for a blow to get
out of an arrest for solicitation. (Oh, come on; you know that's
the one thing they got going for them; their sticks see more
action than all of Nascar combined!)

Trust that I would buy it in a heartbeat, too, if I had the dough
for blow.... or if there were anything around here remotely
worth paying for. I had considered extortion or blackmail to
get laid, but everybody already knows everyone else's shit
in this Hillbilly Hell, so there' no leverage. (Another facet that
makes me wonder why so damned many people are in the closet;
EVERYBODY KNOW! Get over yourselves.)

Lies within lies within subterfuges...whatever!

Gay men are so god-damned fickle, too, no matter WHAT they
look like themselves. They're all waiting for the next Brad Pitt
or Sugar Daddy or rock star, while they're not exactly the toast
of the town. If you can't be with the one you love....'love on' the
one you're with. And take a look in the frigging mirror, too, you
vain, delusional beyotches. Jesus H.

Everybody wants to have their cake and eat it too.
Everyone wants to be accommodated for all their squirrelly-ass
horseshit but have high demands on what others can' or 'can't'
do...it's maddening.

Gay men aren't trained/allowed/expected to develop their
natural emotional selves; all their emotional growth
takes place in secret, if it takes place at all. So it's not surprising
that most of us can't commit to someone when they come along.

Hell, they can't even speak up, ask for what they want, make a
move, express themselves, etc. (Which is totally tragic and another
issue, really, but right now I'm in ball-busting selfish bitch mode,
so apologies and understanding be damned. I want to be touched
by a human being, dammit!)

So I'm going for the gusto. Life's too short to leave this shit to
chance. And I had already 'ruined' my chances of scoring any
down low sideways loving around here by virtue of my overly
overt openness on the Neon Queer headlines. Of course, there
are the inbred nose-breathers amongst us who believe that the
only gay people in town are the ones they can count on one hand.
Y'know....the 'one with the van,' 'the one at Movie Gallery,' 'the
one at the flower shop,'....all the safe bets, and no more.

A geographic relocating won't stop small minds and limited
understanding from being the call for the day, however.
It's a sad fact that most people, regardless of locale, are in love
with their falsehoods. They love a good construct better than
any scary old Truth. It's a fact of life in this American Scream.

Is it really so sonuvabitchin' hard to bust a god-damned nut?

Who does somebody have to screw around here to get laid?