Obviously I'm not fully used to the whole On-Line-Gay-Culture-FuckMe-Meat-Market thing yet, because I seem to be pulling faux pas out of my plump little ass and flinging them left and right.

There was a certain gentleman whom I have had the pleasure of knowing online for a few years, who just happened to live in Manhattan (not far from where I am presently sitting), who was in possession of a very nice body coupled with the deeply rooted need to "smear cheesecake on his penis and have me eat it off." Honestly I would much rather eat my cheesecake and penis separately, but I can be cajoled into enjoying the two at the same time if need be.

However, after some thinking I decided that I didn't really feel like I was ready to have random sex with men after having eaten cheesecake off their naughty bits, so I called him and told him I was not available for dessert and that maybe we could hang out at some later point.

But today I get a rather irate email from this cheesecake fellow, postulating that I had been playing him for the fool and was never serious about our previous plans. No, apparently I am just someone who likes to make empty plans with strange but attractive men to eat various baked goods that had been absentmindedly misplaced upon their quivering genitalia. I haven't yet figured out as to why, but the general feeling is that I get off on it somehow.

Then, earlier this week I was chatting on AOL with someone who I'd chit-chatted with on numerous occasions. This person is overly mysterious and has never mentioned where he was from (only that it was close by to me) and several times lamented the fact that he was so beautiful to behold that people only wanted him for his body and not for his friendship. For this reason he decided to never share a picture of himself. "Whatever" I typed to him, because honestly, I tend to view internet people as fictitious until I meet them face to face.

So the other day he and I are chatting and Ryan's computer decides that it no longer wants to have a cable connection and logs itself offline. I decide to reboot the computer and, in the mean time, wander off into the kitchen for a nice piece of cheese. An hour or two later I return to the computer and signed back on, and am greeted by an email from the mysterious man who says something about how I was never serious about being his friend and how he misjudged me as a cool person and he was going to log off right away and sit in front of his magic mirror and contemplate how pretty he was.

This whole experience has lead me to a number of very obvious conclusions:

1) While not all men are stupid, the majority of the ones who talk to me on the internet are. However this should not stop men from speaking to me via the internet because I can very easily over-look great amounts of stupidity if you have a nice ass.

2) While I'm sure that it can be quite tasty, I believe that I prefer my cheesecake cock-free.

3) Ryan's computer sucks some serious ass.