His profile said: "Confront your demons" and "With nobody in your bed, the night's hard to get through."
Can't argue with that.
We chatted online. The first thing he said is "Your profile photo makes you look like a creepy old guy."
I changed it.
Chatting with Danny was like trying to attract a shy squirrel. He would respond, then immediately log off.
"I'm too ugly to get a date," he complained. "And my cock is too small."
"I'll be the judge of that," I said.
It took three months of chatting, mostly about how difficult it is to find nice guys on the Plains, to get Danny to agree to a 1-1 meeting.
When I opened the door, the guy standing there looked nothing like his profile picture. A tall, thin blond, pale face with acne scars and horn rimmed glasses with very thick lenses. Sort of geeky. I could see how he didn't get many dates.
Still cute, though.
When I saw him the next day online, he said "Why didn't you want to top me? Am I too ugly for you?"
"Not at all. I'm just not into anal. I'd love to see you again."
"Sure, when I get the time."
I know a blow-off when I see one.
We continued to chat online. I invited him to the M4M parties, and he said he would come, but never did.
About a month later, Danny moved to Minneapolis. The gay mecca of the Midwest!
Not surprising -- every guy on the Plains is planning to move. Still, I was upset over the missed opportunity. And I was jealous.
The North Country Bears
The Movie Bears
The Atons Motorcycle Club
Minneapolis Leather Pride
Underwear night at the Eagle Bolt Bar
Parties, camping trips, dinners at cool restaurants, movies, friends, dates. Gay heaven!
He also posted humorous stories, weird memes, and reviews of movies and tv shows. With all the posting, it was easy to miss the occasional oddity:
"This morning when I was showering I felt the skull beneath my skin."
"Why is it so dark outside?"
"Nobody exists on purpose. Nobody belongs anywhere. Everybody is going to die. Let's all stay home and watch tv."
But I didn't think anything of it.
Then one day he announced: "I've made a discovery about my sexual orientation. I'm a puppy. In fact, could you call me Pup Danny from now on?"
Ok, that's not a sexual orientation. Pup play is a fetish related to BDSM and the furry fetish, where the submissive guy acts like a dog: sits on all fours, gets petted, nuzzles your crotch, whines for attention, gets led around on a leash. They usually stay puppies in the bedroom.
You can buy puppy-masks with ears and a snout, and a puppy tail.
Personally, I can't see the attraction, but to each his own.
"Are you into regular BDSM?" I asked. "I'll be happy to tie you up, when you come home to visit."
"I'm never coming home," he responded.
Ok, he must like Minneapolis a lot.
I was glad that he had found a niche, a place where he belonged.
I've been looking his recent facebook posts, memes about pizza, outrage over the President's cruelty with DACA, dinner at a Thai restaurant, a night in a leather bar, a response to a guy wanting to get together later. 26 new friends in the last 2 months.
Only a few oddities:
"I want people to be afraid of how much they like me."
"If I can live through this, I can live through anything."
And his last post: "My watch won't turn on. Sad day."
He had been in Minneapolis for 11 weeks and 2 day when he left us.
Leaving me with two questions:
1. How does the flurry of gay activities with dozens of new friends, dates, and hookups mesh with the darkness Danny felt? It seems impossible to despair amid the glittering activity of Gay Heaven. Or does the glitter only make the darkness worse? Do the 26 new friends only intensify the loneliness?
2. We were Facebook friends. I saw him in person only once. Why will I miss him so much?
The uncensored post is on Tales of West Hollywood.