Cold and dangly

For the second night in a row I have typed something so beautiful and funny / poignant / earth-shattering it could the equivalent to the fucking Dead Sea Scrolls.

And for the second night in a row this stupid programme has deleted the post instead of saving it.

Oh man, I am trying to control my anger.

Last night the same thing happened and we ended up talking about wanking for God's sake.

Actually, while we're on the subject, do you wank with the same hand you write with or does everyone toss off with their right hand?

I was once interacting with his guy and he jerked off with both hands. It was kinda weird - in this like motion that you would throw a medicine ball with.

It's so bad, isn't it? Meeting guys off Gaydar / Manhunt / the net for a quickie.

That's why I never entertain at home.

I am the world's worst for pitching up at their front doors and going "ooh - mate, you look nothing like what I expected... I'm kinda not interested..." and then walking away.

It's very rude but you gotta have the chemistry! And hello, I'm there for a leg-over, not charity.

Once, I had been messaging this guy for a few weeks and he was really fit.

So one Sunday we decide to meet and I pitch up at his beautiful flat in Marylebone. He's about 35, Italian, very hot (amazing body) and obviously loaded.

We chat in the lounge, start to climb all over each other and it moves to the bedroom.

The interaction continues but stops for while as he leans over to his bedside table where there's a massive line of er, castor sugar.

He hoovers up a mountain of the stuff and I think, "hmm... that's a bit stupid." Of course, about ten minutes later things fall very limp.

We try and start again but I stop saying "mate - this is a little tedious if you're not excited..."

He says I should lie there while he's happy to do all the work, so I lie back for a while. However when I reach down there it's all cold and dangly.

He apologises again and goes to find some purple pills. He takes two, now about 45 minutes after going soft.

I am bored, so not into this anymore. He climbs back onto the bed and says I should lie back - he gets to work again but I start thinking about DIY.

"Sorry mate, I'm really not into this anymore..."

"But, but...."

In the end I left him behind, gulping Viagra and gurning. I really couldn't be bothered to see if he ended up standing to attention again.

I think I walked to Tesco and did some shopping instead.

All the best shags I've had have been with guys who I've met in real life, we've chatted, flirted and then our knickers have become intertwined.

All the worst shags I've had have been with guys I've met up with, thanks to the net.

Disclaimer: The sample for this research is not that enormous, mind. Please don't think I draw from a vast well of experience.

So when you read that for 2004/5 in London alone, Gaydar's turnover was £8m you have to think goddamit that's a LOT of bad sex.

I'm going to try and think of my worst-ever sex. Marylebone man has to rate amongst the worst because of what could have been.

No, no! I have remembered the worst. Ohmygod... it was ba-a-a-ad. It's making my stomach turn slightly, just thinking about it.

And then - just as they do when the story gets good - we cut to an ad break.