I am in a very foul mood. I've been talking with this boy through the wonders of the World Wide Internet. He lives six blocks away from me. From his profile, he seemed to be fairly experienced and serious. We exchanged pleasantries, and, if memory serves, he said he wanted to play. Now that shouldn't be too hard, seeing as he can walk to my house. We agreed to meet up last night at 11 p.m. When things looked like they were going to run later than that in my work on the books with Current President, I called at 10 pm to say I wouldn't be home until about 11:30, and asked if that was too late for him. He had no idea who I was when I called him. He said he it was not inconvenient if we rescheduled, because he had to work early the next day. I asked what he was doing tonight, and he said that tonight should be fine. Great. I said I'd call between 6:30 and 7:30 to firm up plans. I called. Again, no idea who I was. He said he was on the other line. He said that, "Uh... actually I think I'm coming down with the flu. Yeah. Fever. Chills. I think I have the flu."

Now, it could very well be that he does have the flu. But I doubt it. I think he's a flakey boy. Why can't they all just go away? What is it about the internet that gives people permission to act this way? The vast array of experience he cited was no doubt in his masturbatory fantasies, as opposed to other people being involved. Y'know, that's fine. If he was upfront about that, I would have gone much more slowly, meeting on neutral territory, talking him through it, no pressure. And if he was in fact not available (like, because he's straight and married) then I would actually not have a lot of problem with talking to him--on line or in person or whatever--and letting him use me as fodder for the aforementioned masturbatory fantasies.

But listen up, boyW, you're an asshole and I hope your dick comes off in your hand the next time you're jerking off. Loser.

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