Dating

Before the internet, there were personal ads — and a horny teenage SWNRJM, 17, spent hours poring over them, hunting for evidence that some woman, somewhere, might want him.

She used me to come, and then she vanished. I knew she would — there were tells — but I kept the screenshots anyway.

A reader asks how I do it. The answer, in part: it’s not nearly as effortless as it looks.

She flew too close to the sun — not me, but her own desire — and then she was gone.

She’s young, she’s pretty, she’s compliant but not perfectly so, and I need her mouth on my cock — but there are complications.

I’ve had a few bad dates. But then again, too few to mention.

The ethics of openness, secrecy, and desire — and the icky feeling when someone else gets what you can’t have, precisely because they’re willing to be dishonest about it.

She brought a bag with a girl scout uniform and several outfits, then declined to suck my cock while complimenting my eye contact. There’s not much I find more compelling than a woman who *might* want to go to bed with me, and that’s some toxic shit.

She was so beautiful I ignored every signal telling me to walk away. This was, predictably, an error.

Tinder has suspended me again, mid-conversation with a handful of matches, and I hate being the guy who just disappears.