I Do Not Hook Up

As part of my (thus far failed) attempt to recruit models, I ended up joining Manhunt, the Amazon.com of gay sex. While I soon realized that Manhunt was utterly useless for scouting purposes, I soon realized that it had some intrinsic benefits. Namely, that it would jump-start my absymal sex life.

Considering that my previous relationships have (to put it lightly) not ended quite as well as I would have hoped, I decided that a string of meaningless, unemotional and probably-unhealthy-but-incredibly-sexy one night stands would be exactly what I needed. There were no complications, no commitments, and no emotional connections whatsoever. Just sex. Sex sex sex sex sex. And then that's it. It was just what I needed.

It was only once I actually logged onto Manhunt that I realized that everyone on the site was, for lack of a better term, completely and totally crazycakes. One of the first guys I ended up talking too, who by the looks of his profile picture was evidently a set of disembodied abdominal muscles, sent me the oh so debonair message of "HORNY WHERE R U?" Naturally, I was simply standing in a puddle of sexual anticipation. How could I possibly resist such a tempting offer? Then I remembered I had work that night. And dignity. When I told him I wasn't available, he responded with "CALISE LOSER."

And they say chivalry is dead.

A little while later, I got an IM from a guy asking me to come over for some mutual masturbation. His avatar was what you could call "decent", and a quickie jack-off session meant I didn't have to wash up. When I asked when he was available, he responded by saying that not only was his profile picture fake, but he had a boyfriend, and that he was just fantasizing and didn't actually want any action.

An hour later, he was back, asking me to come over. Never mind the fact that he had a boyfriend he apparently loved. In fact, he seemed completely content in dumping his relationship woes on me, and then acted surprised when I decided that this scenario was too awkward, and the only baggage a guy had that I was interested in was the one between his legs.

The third and final straw came in the form of a decidedly sexy younger guy dating an older but not altogether ugly guy. Obviously, I had walked into the dreaded sugar daddy zone. Thankfully, after drinks and casual sex, everything seemed to be in the clear.

Until of course the two began arguing and I as dragged in as the filthy homereckers who may or may not be schtupping Tiger Woods. It was at this point that I decided to give up and and all forms of sex that didn't come with a paycheck. Say what you will about porn, but at least you know where you stand, and at the end of day you're waking home having played the part of the mistress.

Porn was where I belonged, in the safe, sweet and sane land of the adult entertainment biz, where at least people weren't completely batshit insane. Just partially.