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I Would Do Anything for Love, But I Won’t Do That

I suppose he found me through the “AOL Member Directory” search. I keep meaning to delete my old cruising profile, but it’s kind of like a pair of jeans I’ve outgrown: maybe someday I’ll fit into them again. So I put it off.

“Hi there, nice profile,“ he writes. The little IM window popping up over my email takes me by surprise. I do what I used to do; I cut and paste his screenname in the “find a profile” box. No profile for that member. Oh well, I think, what could it hurt?

“Hi back,” I type.

Thus begins our conversation, me and the SF Giant’s “Number 1 Fan”. Or so he says. I tell him I was on the field of Pac Bell Park Saturday. He gushes a bit. Then changes course. “Trade pics?” he asks.

Oh, what the hell, I think. You never know.

Ooh. Er. Yikes, I think.

“It’s not a great pic of me,” he types, “much better looking in person.”

I give him the benefit of the doubt, but even that won’t quite do. “Not quite a match for me, but thanks, and good luck out there,” I type. My standard let-em-down-easy.

A few moments pass. Back to my email.

“I’d be willing to pay you,” he writes.

I stop and look at that sentence for awhile.

“$100?” he asks.

I look at it some more. No, no way, I think.


I look at that for awhile.


My mind begins to play little games. After a few seconds I type, “For what?” I hit “send” and then wince. What am I doing?

“Kissing. Mutual oral, j/o, open,” he replies.

I imagine engaging in these activities with him. I imagine attempting to eroticize the idea of prostituting myself. No, no way. No fucking way. Thanks for the ego stroke buddy, I think, but no way. I close his window.

He won’t let up. The price rises with his desperation. Any reply will fuel the flames. I close his windows. After a few minutes he gives up.

I’m finishing my email when another IM pops up on my screen; a different screenname.

“Nice profile,” he types. I cut and paste again. No profile.

“I’m married, so need to be discrete,” he types.

Oh no, I think.

“I don’t have a pic, but I once paid an escort,” he types. “Are you an escort?”

I could take you many places, I think. But I can’t take you there.

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