(Fishmarket North)

I'm confused. I keep checking out guys. I flirt with my gay hairdresser. I have disgustingly graphic dreams about cops and firemen. Maybe it's just a stage. Every man goes through a bi-curious phase, right? Then again, it might be the string of ugly bitches I've hooked up with over the past few years. Androgynous young latinos would start to look appealing to any guy after a month with that last chick, Freda, with her sideburns, bad breath and thighs like giant redwoods. I've never seen a girl - or anybody, for that matter - eat a burrito while chain-smoking before. I just don't know. I'm not ready to write off my heterosexuality without giving it one more chance with a woman who doesn't look like she just ran into a brick wall. If you're cute, feminine, bubbly and ready to have some fun, please send me an email. I'm certainly no oil painting but I've got nice eyes and a dry sense of humor. You're my last chance. It's off to manchugville if this doesn't work. If tits and ass on a plate does nothing for me, I need to admit defeat, wax all my body hair and head straight down to Westminster for a blowjob off a rentboy.



PostingID: 698008554