The Perils of Being Fresh Meat

As I posted a couple days ago, I had to work this weekend, and report to the office by 8am. Well, I talked them up to 9am, and that hour makes a world of difference.

Work has been easy despite the fact that I'm dealing with vicious female retail buyers who walk in their strappy wedge sandals with enough attitude to cut through Kimora's diamonds.
Buyers are used to being catered to since they wield in their well-manicured hands hundreds of thousands of dollars and the livelihood of designers.
They ask questions, don't grace me with eye contact, and since they know I'm new meat and thus lack experience, they'll ask me the same question repeatedly, hoping they'll eventually get the answer they want.
I'm used to dealing with this alpha personality, seeing as I tend to date and befriend it.
All in all, working this weekend has been fine. The job's not that hard, and I managed to go out for a bit last night, which was enough of LA Pride for me.
(Because frankly all PRIDES are the same fucking thing, plus or minus a couple of drag queens and GHB overdoses)

I met up with Ted, a buddy of mine from NYC. He's a law student who realized that being a law student in New York sucks. You're broke (even though his parents paid for his posh digs on the Upper West Side), you're saddled with a huge amount of work, and you're always missing some great party. Even JFK Jr. let the insanity of New York affect his studies while at NYU Law. The prince failed the New York bar twice.
Ted's trying to transfer to a LA law school, but for the summer he's interning at a firm downtown.
Ted and I have the same taste in guys- we like masculine laid back men who are comfortable in their skin- and that often means guys in their thirties.
We hooked up about a year ago after I stopped dating one of his best friends, pussy boy.
Pussy boy got his name from an intimate experience where he demanded I fuck his pussy.
Afterwards, PB asked if he could fuck me. My response "You have a pussy, there's no way you're ever fucking me."
Anyways, Ted called me up yesterday asking me if I'd be down to meet up for a drink.
I said yes knowing quite well that I might be bringing a date along.

I have a confession: out here in LA I've started chatting on online gay sites with the actual intention of dating and hooking-up. Something I used to do back in high school. I much rather prefer meeting guys in real life because it's much sexier to met a hot guy in a bar, not know the exact dimensions of his dick and asshole, and discover a man's story before knowing his turn-ons.
But I've gotten lazy with work and the gym, and in an attempt to meet guys, find online chatting easy and convenient. And I suspect that online chatting is a big thing out in LA where the bars kind of suck.
In the past, I'd simply swap pics when I was bored, because getting laid off the internet is just way too easy. Easy sex for me = boring.
And on the internet, you'll find your share of meth heads, sex addicts, and completely socially inept losers who's life is wholly comprised of the gym and sex websites.
You'll often find guys who have 14 pictures of themsevles with a long edict as to appropiate chat behavior, exclusionary clauses, and overuse of abbreviations. (No Fats, Fems. Be Masculine. Hot, worked out, you be too.PNP, BB, WS, FF for e.g.) To those people, I say walk the fuck away from your computer and walk out your door.

Saying that, I myself logged onto the internet, and after chatting for about half an hour, I met two potential suitors.

One is this recent Berkely grad who's a personal trainer. Ryan's about to start med school in the south, but is interning in LA for the summer.
He's sexy, has a great thick body, but is so cocky about being "the whole package" that he often comes across as a total tool.

The other kid I chatted with was Phil, a young gym bunny from Long Beach. Cute sexy kid, but it seemed thats all he really was. Perhaps too young and too aimless for my taste.

Phil and Ryan both asked to hang out last night, but seeing as Ryan was probably a better fit, I invited him to meet up for drinks before I was to meet Ted.
I figured that if Ryan was cool, i'd invite him along to meet Ted and keep things chill and casual. If not, I'd tell him I had to go meet my buddy.

Well a couple hours before I was to meet Ryan, Ted called me up to let me know that his friend Phil from Long Beach would be joining us. I laughed my ass off. Small fucking gay world.

Ryan, the gay med student, picked me up at my aparment and we started walking over to the Abbey. On the way over, we share dating horror stories, one of which is about a stalker of his. He tells me he's been hesitant to meet off the internet because he he had a really bad experience. Apparantly a guy he met off the net wouldn't take a hint and would text him 20 times a day, instant message him, email him, and call him. And true to stalker fashion, follow him home.

I stopped in my tracks, however, when Ryan mentioned that his freaky stalker was from Long Beach. The gay world got even smaller. Phil was in fact his stalker, Ted's friend, and my other online suitor.

I thought it was fucking hilarious. Of course this would happen to me. See what happens when you shop for dick online.

All in all, things turned out fine. We all met each other, Phil turned out to be crazy, but he was more freaked out by the whole thing than anything. Had a deer in the headlights look to him all night.
And I consider myself very lucky for having been warned ahead of time of a run-in with a lame guy with too much time on his hands.
But perhaps I too have too much time if I have time to chat with random guys on the net. Next time I get lonely, I'm going to get a dog, go to the park, and use that as a means to let guys talk to the "new meat" of LA.