Back by popular demand (a.k.a. a unanimous hand vote I took last week among myself, Mademoiselle TanMess, Senorita CalienteMess, and Bitcy Little Rat Dog), Mister GayMess has agreed to submit his very first "guest post." Before I agree to "hire" him as a regular blogger (and I use the word "hire" because I will pay him in beer and GIT R DONE paraphernalia), I have asked him to please fill out an application...which will be posted next week. With no further ado...I present you with this Friday's YOU MIGHT BE A HAUTEMESS IF....
As a regular and long-time reader of Mademoiselle Hautemess’ dating misadventures, I am honored to be able to join you as a guest blogger today. You can call me Mister GayMess. I have a few stories to tell. A few dating misadventures of my own. Some of them I share reluctantly, but some of them just have to be shared.
For tonight, though, just a brief WTF moment brought to me by Grindr. Grindr is an iPhone app that lets you see which homosexual men are in your immediate vicinity. I only installed it a couple weeks ago, but it’s already proved quite useful. I’ve met one new gaybor who lives in my city block, and a few days ago encountered another gaybor who lives a mere 98 feet from me (+/- 262 feet). I like meeting my gaybors and making friends.
As you can imagine, this tool is also quite useful for guys who are looking for a quick hookup. Last evening, one such gentleman messaged me using the chat feature. I present you with the horror that greeted me when I opened his profile: (Mademoiselle HauteMess notes: You Might Be a HauteMess IF...this is your profile picture)
First, 13.7 miles is too far for any use of Grindr. The whole point is to see who’s nearby. Get on Manhunt, you creep.
And I can guarantee you from years of experience dealing with these losers that “29/bicurious” means 38 and has satisfied that "curiosity" decades ago.
To translate the rest: He wants to have sex with married guys. Presumably because he can trust them since they have as much to lose as he does. And he wants to do it all the time, behind the backs of all women involved. But you know, if you don’t want to fuck him all the time, you can just chat over a beer too.
I’ll let the TACO BELL image speak for itself.
This guy is a LOSER and was blocked WITH HASTE.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m being chatted up by a 19 year old in a wheelchair due to an army accident. I’m not making fun of that by the way. Seriously, I gotta go…
(sidenote: my college roommate's boyfriend once left a trail of fire sauce packets all the way from taco bell to our apartment, and I quote, "Like Hansel & Gretel in case I get hungry and need to find my way back.")