Parallel lines don't meet

I match my speed to that of my prey for better chances at sealing the deal. So if he messages me on Grindr with common courtesies and pleasantries, then I match the pace and engineer subtle ways to veer the conversation to a favorable course. And sometimes it doesn't even get there as you can tell things are mismatched and never gonna work. But when a guy tells me he's horny after I just say hello, then I'm gonna ramp up and accelerate to the finish line. Sure, you need to exchange some words to find out of if you're simpatico, complements, tongue and groove fittings and like minded whores looking for a quick fix but there's really no need to direct the action before it has even begun. What's the fun of acting out the scene to a completed script. What about the mystery of the hookup? In the end, you're going to at best get only what you're expecting. That is the upper limit. But the experience could always fall short. Meanwhile, I like to leave some room for chance. The chance that he can defy expectations and reach beyond the upper bounds of what I had in mind and simply blow it away.

So I'm at work way early. Early enough to either get breakfast or have someone for breakfast and I pop up Grindr and see this hot guy in a conservative shirt and tie, executive library background and I'm a little intrigued. Even more intrigued when I basically get him pining for my dick in his ass after a mere hello. That yin yang contrast of conservative looks and a dirty mind always kinda alluring. So I didn't think anything of it to ask for an address after a quick exchange of dirty pics. But he stalls. Asks for more details about what I'm into. What positions I like. What clothes I wear. What I eat for dinner, my opinions on the theory of relativity. I'm getting red flags, but the li'l guy that's straining my pants wins out and I continue to entertain his inquisition. Until I finally get tired and all the dirty talk actually does the opposite of what he intends and gets me completely soft. So I lay my cards down and tell him I think he's jerking me around and again ask for an address. I get a vague street name. Then an intersection. He'll give me more details as I get there to protect his safety. I don't quite get it, but the li'l guy perks up and I fall for it even though my head is screaming no. And of course, when I get there, he starts in on the dirty talk and questions. I'm literally a block away from you! Pull the trigger!

By the way, the street was that part of Venice (CA) where you have million dollar homes next to marijuana dispensaries and dilapidation not yet torn down for the young professionals of Silicon Beach. The same oxymoronic juxtapositions like a perv in republican garb (or maybe that's more redundant than oxymoronic these days).

He stalls again. And despite us laying everything out in playing bare and what position he'll be in, what lube he'll be using, what's gonna be playing, what lighting technique he's using, what's gonna be on his fucking dresser drawer and sheets done up in origami shapes for fuck's sake, he then changes the terms and wants to play safe. Which is fine. No big deal usually but he doesn't have condoms and I didn't have any on me and he knew I had left them behind and now he wants me to go to the pharmacy and get some.

Fuck that. I'm not gonna do all that for him to just block me before I get to his door.

Big head won out and I typed: forget it.

Little head threw a tantrum.