I got a call last night from an … admirer? A guy I hung out with in a bar a year ago, decided to make a booty call! What on god’s green earth?
First of all. Who the fuck calls someone they met in a bar a year ago? At midnight? Saying “I’m more of a bottom, really.” Fer christ sake, at least find out if I’m gay first you skeevy pipe-smoker!
FIRST: IT’S COOL IF YOU ASK, YES IT IS!!!
When in doubt, fucking ask first, ok? Then I won’t have to say “I’m sorry to burst your bubble, but I’m straight – that’s life in the big city, eh?” Cause you know why? It makes for fucking strained conversations.
SECOND: I WANT TO BE GAY SO I CAN MAKE YEAR-OLD BOOTY CALLS!!
“Hi sexy. It’s Ace; from that funeral two years ago? Yeah. What’s’up, sugar? Nothing? I’ve got a you-shaped space in my bed, wanna fill it? Wanna come over and lay some pipe?” Can I do that? NO!
THIRDLY: DO I HAVE TO SWAGGER AROUND SO I DON’T GIVE MIXED SIGNALS TO MY GAY FRIENDS?!
I can do that: Hey, jamoke – gimme another fucking pint ova here! Fucking limey pinky-lifting nipple-twisting buggery git! Hey, you know what, buddy? I like the PUSSY – yes I do, pink and tangy, that’s the stuff, yum yum give me some – Eh, buddy? Eh?
Listen, gay folks, y’all are cool with me, just STOP TRYING TO SEX ME UP! Criminy! Gay men! Do I need to get a shirt that says “PUSSY LOVING” or what?
Jes trying to be clear,