‘Are you serious?’ I asked.
Uncle Vic nodded. ‘I had hundreds of messages and tracks to wade through in that first week. You know my profile has had over 150 000 hits,’ Vic added smugly.
‘What?’
I didn’t believe him but Vic assured me it was true. ‘You’ll see for yourself when you get online. There were thirteen hundred guys in the Sydney room last night which is pretty typical. The number of people checking out your profile soon adds up.’
These statistics made me sit up and pay attention. Now that I thought about it, practically every single gay guy I knew and quite a few of the couples were on Gaydar. In fact, the first thing gay men said when I mentioned breaking up with Blake was, ‘Oh well, now you can hit Gaydar’. I’d thought they were teasing, but now I understood—everyone was doing it.
Though, I wasn’t sure it was right for me. I didn’t particularly like the idea of exposing personal information about myself online for all and sundry to see. I’d always assumed that all I need do was walk into a gay bar and the boys would flock to me. Though, my recent visit to The Colombian on that Sunday evening had proven otherwise. It was no wonder that guys had taken to the internet with such enthusiasm—no one talked to you when you did go out. I could see that it would be a lot less intimidating to approach someone online (or equally reject someone) than to do it in a bar, in front of an audience of critical queens.
I’d moved the computer to Altair so I was all equipped to get cracking on Gaydar; though Blake was bombarding me with text messages trying to claim ownership of it. Perhaps it had occurred to him that there was a great deal of incriminating information on that computer. I had for instance recently accessed his Gaydar profile. Strauss had tracked down Blake’s user name—Bottom-Line—and I suppose that name pre-warned me what to expect. I’d logged in as Bottom-Line, tried the password he used for his e-mail, and voilà, I was in. Blake wasn’t merely a guest, but a member and clearly quite a busy member. He had over thirty favourites bookmarked and a very flirtatious history of saved messages. I read all of those messages and though there was a great deal of explicit talk about hooking up, it wasn’t clear if he’d actually done so. Or maybe that was what I wanted to believe. Nevertheless, to punish him, I checked out the Sydney online profiles and sent provocative ‘let’s fuck’ messages from Bottom-Line to ten of the ugliest and most out of shape guys I could find.
I had not had sex myself since the break-up with Blake. Initially, I felt too emotionally shattered, though I must also have been at a low physical ebb. First, I came down with a cold sore, then a cold. Finally, a few weeks after the break-up I felt sufficiently upbeat, healthy and horny to send Alejandro a text, suggesting a get-together. He responded immediately with alacrity, but then I made the mistake of elaborating:
Stephen: We can do this more often now. Im single.
Alejandro: What happened
I had no intention of telling Alejandro that I’d been dumped for Rick.
Stephen: Its over with Blake.
Alejandro: Did he find out about us
Stephen: Kind of but that wasnt the reason.
Alejandro: Im sorry
Stephen: Its ok. Now u can have unfettered access to me.
Alejandro: I dont know this word
Stephen: U can have me whenever u want me. Shall I come over?
Alejandro took a long time to reply.
Alejandro: I dont want my r/ship 2 end like yrs has. I love Joshua.I cant c u again.
I couldn’t believe it.
Stephen: Huh?
But Alejandro didn’t reply. It seemed that for the second time in the same month I had been dumped by text message. Inevitably it had been more than only sex with Alejandro. His pursuit of me and our subsequent liaisons had gone on for more than six months. An intimacy had developed between us. There had been a connection; or at least I thought there had been.
I sent Alejandro several more texts. I just wanted to understand why he’d called it off. Was it really a wake-up call about his own relationship? Or had I come across as too needy in our brief text message exchange? Perhaps I was only attractive to him when I was unavailable? But Alejandro ignored all my messages. I was left none the wiser.
My ego was already pretty badly battered post-Blake but then for Alejandro to reject me as well, that was a real knockout blow. I felt less inclined than ever to put myself out there and risk further rejection. Even the sauna which was often such an ideal quick sex solution seemed too daunting. Trudging around those corridors, one’s best hopes could quickly degenerate into a sense of hopelessness and I could do without that.
So when Uncle Vic began to spruik the wonders of Gaydar with a zeal that the manufacturers of ‘Tommy’ would have adored, I listened. ‘All the information you need to know is there in the guy’s profile and it saves so much beating around the bush. How many times have you gone home with someone only to discover once you start to get down to it, that you’re completely incompatible sexually? With Gaydar, that rarely happens. On their profile it says exactly what they like and what they don’t like. As you can imagine, some queens are very specific and exacting.’
I could see the advantages in that, though I still had my reservations. ‘It kind of spoils the romance and intrigue,’ I muttered.
‘If you want romance, then don’t show your dick,’ retorted Vic. ‘But sure, there are some guys on there looking for romance, for Mr Right, and they’ve tailored their profile accordingly.’
I shrugged. I still didn’t feel convinced about exposing myself online though I did rather relish the prospect of reading the profiles of other guys: the filthier their photos and the more explicit their desires, the better. I was especially keen to stumble across profiles of some of the guys I’d harboured an idle interest in over the years. I could see that Gaydar could prove to be a very illuminating tool. As for my own profile, I could always cultivate an air of mystery and tell a few expedient lies. That thought made me realise that other guys must do exactly that—lie—and no doubt outrageously. ‘But people wouldn’t be honest about themselves,’ I protested.
‘Well yes,’ Vic admitted, ‘there are those who exaggerate and inflate their charms. But then there are others who are so modest or lacking in confidence or simply don’t have a clue what they’ve got going for them. I’ve struck a few rough suburban diamonds over the past year and my word, they were deliciously rough. But you know, guys tend to lie about the same things. Their age, their dick size and how recent their photos are. You just ask a few direct questions before you arrange to meet. I mean, I lie about my age on there but who’s going to search Gaydar for a fifty-nine-year-old man?’
I gave Vic a look. ‘Don’t you mean sixty-five?’
Vic ignored my correction. ‘I don’t lie about my age for myself. I lie for the people who visit my profile, to feed their fantasies. Sometimes to create the right mood on your profile, it is important to smudge the truth a little.’
Of course, this statement only made me extremely eager to check out Vic’s profile at the earliest opportunity and see what whoppers he’d told about himself—though the prospect of being confronted by ‘majestic’ images of his penis was a strong deterrent.
‘You know, it’s amazing how much times have changed,’ Vic pronounced in a dreamy voice. ‘These days to hook up all you need is a computer, some hot photos and to be an adequate typist. Once upon a time to meet men you had to be proficient with a drill and prepared to hang out in a lot of public toilets. Though I guess one thing has stayed constant despite all the changes in society and technology.’
‘What’s that?’ I asked, expecting some profound insight.
‘Everyone still loves a big dick.’
It was all too true and why I had my doubts about the likelihood of success on Gaydar for myself. Meanwhile, Uncle Vic smirked smugly. He had been blessed. He’d once confided that his most successful pick-up line was simply to whisper in a guy’s ear, ‘I have a very big dick’. General
ly the response was ‘let’s go’.
‘I’m sure you’ll do well online,’ Vic encouraged me. ‘You’re quick witted, always have something smart to say for yourself. It’s just a matter of typing it, instead of saying it. But do invest some time in setting up your profile, and try to make your answers thoughtful and individual. I mean it’s not just about sex. Guys list their general interests too, like their favourite author, favourite holiday destination, favourite actress.’
At that moment, Elisabeth swept back into the room. ‘And here she is,’ Vic exclaimed, ‘the woman I have listed on my profile as my favourite actress.’
‘What profile?’ she asked, all smiles at the attention.
‘My Gaydar profile.’
‘Oh Vic, that’s so sweet,’ she said and then turned to me. ‘Darling, do you list me too?’
‘I’ve told you before, I’m not on it,’ I said tersely.
‘Really?’ Elisabeth looked startled. ‘Well you should be from what I hear.’
‘But I’m not the only one who names you as their favourite actress,’ Vic added eagerly. ‘A lot of other guys list you as well.’
‘Really?’ Elisabeth and I spoke in unison.
‘What about me?’ I couldn’t help myself asking. ‘I must be listed too. I mean not as Favourite Actress obviously, but Actor …’
I trailed off as Vic and Elisabeth exchanged a look. ‘Um, well, not that I’ve noticed. But no doubt you are,’ Vic added hastily. ‘I’m sure if you did a search, you’d find someone has listed you.’
I noted that Vic said ‘someone’ in the singular. ‘My name brings up pages of hits on Google,’ I said huffily, which was something of an exaggeration.
But neither Vic nor Elisabeth were listening. ‘How’s your hit rate?’ Vic asked my mother, who giggled girlishly.
It took me a moment or two to comprehend the meaning of what he’d said. I stared at her in shock. ‘You’re doing it too?’
‘Oh darling, don’t look so horrified. This is exactly why I haven’t told you, as I knew you would fix me with those accusing eyes. But yes, I am doing it, along with everyone else in Sydney. It’s not so shocking surely? Actually, what is shocking is that you’re not on it yourself. I had no idea you were such a fuddy-duddy.’
‘I’ve been in a relationship,’ I defended myself. ‘I wasn’t looking for anyone.’
‘But you found a few nevertheless,’ Vic added quite unnecessarily.
‘Well, I’m not really looking for anyone either,’ Elisabeth insisted. ‘It’s just a bit of fun, a distraction. I’m on RSVP. Vic helped me get set up. But you know once you start, it can get a little addictive.’
‘But you don’t actually meet people off it, do you?’ I asked sternly.
‘Only a few. A tiny number. I’m awfully fussy.’
‘You’ve met people?’
‘There were a couple that I simply couldn’t keep saying no to. We’d become such good chat buddies. I felt so mean to keep denying them. I’m very cautious, very discrete and of course, always very ladylike.’
I was flabbergasted. I didn’t know what to say.
‘Do you want to know my user name?’ she asked. ‘Naturally it has a theatrical allusion. I wanted to call myself Mrs Alving as that’s probably my most famous stage role, but there’s that unfortunate association with syphilis. It wasn’t appropriate, so I settled on Hedda Gabler but discovered that also had connotations. People knew nothing of the play and thought I was some sort of fellatio fanatic. So now I’m Desdemona. Vic thought it might attract some black men and after hearing all of his stories, I must say I was curious.’
‘And how’s the response been?’ asked Vic.
‘Well, there is this charming African-American gentleman out here on holiday pursuing me most ardently,’ she admitted. ‘He’s been so persistent and I do feel tempted, though he must be far too young for me and his name is a little off-putting.’
‘What is it?’ asked Vic.
Elisabeth blushed. ‘Shaft,’ she admitted with a nervous giggle.
‘I’d call that an enticement and no doubt, a very large one,’ crowed Vic.
I couldn’t listen to any more of their banter. I excused myself to go outside and visit the cat. I sat on the front doorstep and Sultan appeared on cue to brush up against my legs. I sat there brooding, feeling strangely disconnected. It did make me feel very old-fashioned indeed to discover that even my mother was enjoying the spoils of internet dating. What’s more she seemed to be loving it; she hadn’t looked so animated and carefree in years. There had to be something in it. I resolved that tomorrow, when I got back to Altair, the first thing I would do was get on the computer and set up my profile.
Dinner was a trial. Elisabeth was throwing back the wine and started probing me for the more intimate details of what went wrong with Blake. As soon as I could politely excuse myself, I did and retreated to my old bedroom. But I was totally preoccupied and couldn’t sleep. I had so many ideas for my profile. At midnight, I was still wide awake so finally I gave up and padded downstairs to the office. I intended to get to work on my profile.
But the computer was busy.
Elisabeth was installed at the desk, typing away furiously. Thankfully, her back was to me and she was too engrossed to sense my presence. Stealthily, I crept back upstairs. As I retreated, her computer chimed. My mother had a new message.
2
Chapter Two
Gaydar message from Piss-Pig to Golden-Boy:
Hey Golden-Boy. Your name grabbed my attention and I’m dying to see a pic and learn more about you. My bladder is bursting as I write this and I would love to get together with you for a no-holds barred session. Message me back and tell me how you like it. Sprayed all over or down your throat? Check out my photos—betcha like the one of my big dick in full glorious flow.
That was my first experience of Gaydar. I’d completed the basic information to establish my profile, then gone back to work on the more personal sections which required more thought, when to my delight, I got my first message. I was so excited that my profile was already attracting attention, but that feeling quickly curdled upon reading Piss-Pig’s message. I was absolutely horrified that my user name could be so wildly misinterpreted.
I was the Golden-Boy—blond, blue-eyed, beautiful—and most certainly not into being urinated on.
I was completely taken aback but also unsure how to respond. Would replying, even just to say ‘get lost’, only encourage this pervert? Suddenly, a window popped up to inform me I had a new message. I retrieved it with some trepidation and sure enough, it was from Piss-Pig again.
Piss-Pig: Put down your rubber sheeting and give me your address Golden Boy. I’ll come and give you a soaking good session.
I rang Uncle Vic. I didn’t have the patience to read through the help information and frequently-asked-questions. This was an emergency and Uncle Vic had seemed quite the authority on Gaydar. But Vic was in no hurry to come to my aid. ‘Well this is a surprise,’ he remarked archly, ‘when you were so cool on the idea last night. Haven’t wasted any time getting on there, have you?’
I muttered something about how sleeping on it had made me appreciate the wisdom of his advice. ‘And if I could just utilise that wisdom again to deal with this pest,’ I said hopefully.
But before Uncle Vic would offer any ‘technical support’, he wanted to hear all the humiliating details. He even insisted on going online to check out Piss-Pig’s profile and then seemed rather captivated by his cock. ‘Vic, this is an emergency,’ I protested. ‘I don’t want any more of these freaks harassing me.’
But my outburst caused offence. ‘Stephen, there’s no need for that,’ he reprimanded me sternly. ‘Piss-Pig has paid you the compliment of his attention, which you disdain I know, but all you need do is reply with a polite but firm “no thank you”.’
While he rattled on with a ‘treat others with the respect and courtesy that you expect yourself’ lecture, I composed a brief not
e declining Piss-Pig’s proposal:
Golden-Boy: No thanks mate. Not my scene.
Uncle Vic went on at such length it became pretty obvious that this topic was a personal sore point. No doubt Vic got his fair share of rejection online and it smarted. While he was still railing on, Piss-Pig responded.
Piss-Pig: You just need to go with the flow Golden-Boy. Give it a try. I know you’re curious.
I interrupted Vic mid-sentence. ‘Screw being courteous. Piss-Pig won’t take a polite no for an answer.’
Vic sighed and I tersely typed out a response which was blunt and unambiguous.
Golden-Boy: Piss off Piggy! What you suggest revolts me.
Vic then explained how I could block Piss-Pig’s name so he couldn’t message me again which I immediately did. ‘You know, this is a good cautionary lesson Stephen,’ Vic continued. ‘Of course you’re eager to get online but it is important to think everything through carefully and be wary of any potential ambiguities.’
‘He’s ruined my user name,’ I moaned. ‘Soiled it with his filthy connotations and it was perfect. I’m going to have to change it now.’
‘Yes, well some people will interpret what seems perfectly innocent in their own way. Just take your time setting up your profile. Work out what it is you’re really after by using Gaydar. Is it just sex, some titillation or are you hoping to meet a potential boyfriend? Then structure your profile accordingly.’
Vic then wished me luck and hung up. Generally, I paid scant attention to Vic’s advice but what he’d said did make sense. What was I looking for on Gaydar? Certainly, not a new boyfriend; the break-up with Blake was still far too recent and raw. No, what I needed was distraction, something to stop me obsessing about the Blake situation. Some no-strings sex and perhaps the occasional date would be ideal.
Private Party Page 2