I Am So Post-Gay

by Diego Costa

I finally went to B Bar (40 E. 4th Street) after several months of limiting my social/sexual life to Craigslist postings. And what a strange feeling. Wandering human eyes laid on you; actual bodies brushing against yours; strangers approaching you before you get their cock pics; engaging in conversation before even a blow job is consummated -- the whole bit. Quite bizarre. And after all this theater ("Oh, I love your jeans!"), still no cock. AND you have to pay $9 per drink to even just be there. Honey, Craigslist is free and you get to find out people's dick sizes (and get a pictorial sense of what they look like) even before they ask your name, bitches.

Not that I'm advocating for the complete boycotting of public queer spaces. But one can actually be way more pragmatic staying home, waiting for one's roommates to go to bed, dressing up in drag and posting as a tranny. The amount of straight guys you get trying to come "fake-rape" you is not even funny. You can even be as picky as deciding whether you wanna have Puerto Rican or Dominican dick tonight. No more settling for second best. No more settling for the least faggie one, for the least bottom one. These are real men whose jobs consist of hauling heavy metal structures and eating pussy. And they often have done time! And have the tattoos to prove it.


I was at B Bar because this old, old trick of mine happened to be in Manhattan and invited me over. He is one of those left-over tricks from back in the day when I was gay. Gay in the sense that I lived for working out Monday thru Friday and going to the club Friday thru Sunday to show the body off and suck as much half-decent/half-masculine dick as possible. No longer, honey: it's all about the intelligently managed Craigslist hetero-dick from the Bronx, honey. I'm talking big, black, uncut married Brazilian cock who doesn't even know what SoHo is, bitches. The kind of dick who doesn't even care if it hits ass with condoms or raw cause it's so straight it thinks that the worst it can happen is a woman might get pregnant. And what are the odds of that!

Anyway, once in a while you do get a few duds, like the last response I got. He was Latin and everything but, "Never married, No kids" (bad), "Loves pets, kids" (who cares), "masters degree" (faggot), "I love dancing, film, live music, cooking and eating" (and you think you're not a bottom because...), "Looking for a friend that could lead to LTR" (what are you, me?).

But most of the time I get: "Whassup, ma, that shit looks good enough to eat, when can I hit that pussy? -- one", which is too priceless for fucking words.

At B Bar the most action I got was a "you have the most gorgeous eyes" from old trick. And, honey, I wear contacts, and last time I checked there was no such thing as ocular sex, so shove it.

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