I’m always intrigued when the little notification thingy for Facebook pops up. No, not the Google Alert thingy with links to what unannounced changes Facebook is making or how they’ve been caught selling off our private information for a profit again. I mean the Friend Request thingy. They’re a mixed bag for me and friends have accused me of letting anybody into my world. So not true. Yes, I’ve let them in, but I’ve raised my standards since then. Now I look to see how many friends we have in common, view as much of their page and information as they’re allowing and then make an educated decision based on that. It’s usually a sound way of doing things, only it does sometimes backfire. I’ll once in a while accept a request, then, moments later, receive an e-mail asking me if I’d like to do to them what I enjoy having the hubby do to me. The details are everything and, fortunately, they have given me a few ideas for my next conjugal visit.
But, you know, shhhhh about that last bit.
My first response to these people is usually “Did you happen to read my profile?” Why? Because it states quite clearly there that I’m married. I also have tons of pictures from the event that are available for people to see. I’m not hiding anything. I also believe it states somewhere on there that I’m going to make fun of them if they say something annoying, only nobody ever seems to read that before acting all “Oh, you’re making fun of me? I’ll just say something really lame and stupid right back, then get seriously pissed off when you reply with something that points out what a child I’m acting like!” Yeah, I LOVE those conversations.
Now, I’ve noticed that the majority of these “hey, do you wanna hook up?” chats can be split up into two specific areas; overseas requests and from local/regional guys in their early twenties. Why? I have no clue. It’s just the way these work out. Now, I’m not going to name the countries these lads come from since I’m not trying to stereotype a specific cultural background. That would be rude of me. However, I will say that along with these requests and my polite “no”s will generally be followed by a request for money to assist in some way. Oh, they’d be plenty willing to be every fantasy you could possibly imagine, but it’s gonna cost you. Hello? I do not pay for my play. “I” am paid. Want me to have an orgasm thinking about you? Buy one of my books, beyotch. Works every time.
The sad thing is I don’t think these guys would have a clue what to do if they ever convinced some nutcase to fly over and sweep them off their feet. I honestly think they’d be in some deep shit. And maybe that sort of things happens, but is there ever a happy ending? Maybe I’ve watched too many horror movies. Like Hostel. But not Hostel 2. Why? Because Eli Roth is kind of a dick…but I digress.
As for the young twenty somethings, I have a surefire way of scaring off a solid 60% of those who comprise the remaining 50% of the requests, those there’s usually only a 25% chance of that; I tell them my age. Why? Because they ask and they’re not like the boys from the foreign countries. I tell them my age and they’re all “Papi!” And that tends to prompt a deadpan “Kuso o tabero soshite shine!” from me. Never call a VERY young 40ish man papi. They don’t like it. We don’t like it. I don’t like it. And I will respond accordingly. But these other younger folks? Several get freaked out. Hello?, did you not look at my “About Me” section? The year I was born is in there. Others have informed me I look good for my age. It’s the embalming fluid. And a few don’t really care because age doesn’t matter. I admire the attitudes of those last little SOBs.
Even the ones with the right attitude don’t matter in the grand scheme of things. Me married. Me honorable white husband. Me have loving, sarcastic, passive aggressive, borderline vindictive, half Chinese husband. The last time someone in their twenties hit on me, my husband couldn’t help but quip “Awww…he thinks you’re daddy gay!” His not being able to tell that to me on a regular basis is perhaps the one perk of him living so far away right now. That and New Release Blu-Ray Tuesday.
The thing is I don’t pick on him when guys hit on him. And they do. They do quite a bit. Women do, too. Some of them find out about me, some of them even meet me and they’re all left wondering the same thing; what the hell is he doing with me? I guess some things are just meant to be. Some bonds are just that strong. And some people connect in a way a bit more real than through a quickie on Facebook or some other social site. Not that there’s anything wrong with that.
I just want more. I don’t want partial. I want it all the way in.
Kage Alan is the Under One Roof watching, Dan Hartman listening author of “A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to My Sexual Orientation,” “Andy Stevenson Vs. the Lord of the Loins” and the first book in a separate series, “Gaylias: Operation Thunderspell.” DragonCon is almost upon me and I still have laundry to do. Fortunately, my house sitter is arriving Wednesday and will be staying until Friday, which is when my hubby comes home. Yes, he’s coming home and I’m gone to a convention. Can we plan this or what? Haven’t seen the lad since July 6th and he naturally comes home when I’m not here. Grr… I told him just for that, I’m heading down to see him after his Grandmonster leaves next month.