treat people the way U would like to be treated . . . that's my philosophy.

trolling for a threesome online with the Blue Light Special--from the creation of a profile to the give and take of chatting--provided a fascinating, if horrifying glimpse of his true self . . . first, he insisted on lopping five years off his age . . . then he turns out to be one of those guys who can't focus on a single chat and sometimes waits minutes in between responses . . . without the promiscuous use of smiley faces, his Teutonic sense of humor seems cruel . . . worse yet, he expects everyone to send their pic first and if he doesn't like what he sees he would prefer not returning his at all . . . don't u have any pictures of ugly guys we can use? he asks.

his way of dealing with the PNP and bareback scene differs from mine, too . . . why can't we tell them we're into bb and just put on a condom before we fuck them? who cares if they use drugs when they get here? we don't have to.

yes, i am sitting next to my worst online nightmare for hours at a time . . . so now, in addition to feeling like we're poster boys for beauty and the beast (my role, relatively speaking) and the routine frustration of trying to hook up in an M4M chat room, i have to monitor his netiquette and make sure he doesn't send our pictures to anyone who has rejected me in the past (although i am tempted to do so just to have the satisfaction of turning them down if they're suddenly hot to trot with the Blue Light Special . . . like they say, revenge is a dish best served cold and while i prefer polite rejection to game playing, i can't deny it hurts when someone i find attractive types sorry, not a match).

agreeing on a suitable prospect reduces our chances even further . . . the Blue Light Special can afford to be pickier than me which means that he's more focused on how they look than the level of their interest or availability . . . give me a reasonably attractive eager beaver any day over some photogenic hunk with attitude . . . he's also more willing to engage in prolonged chat with someone who sends a hot pic and who says he's interested but evades the logistics of hooking up . . . u are very pragmatic aren't u? . . . right u are, fella . . . your command of the language is a lot more impressive than your hook up skills in this environment! . . . how did u ever land Thug Lover?

our search for a threesome has taken us into the real world, too . . . while doing my laps during a lunchtime swim at Columbia i noticed the Blue Light Special emerge from the pool and follow some well built under grad when he headed for the locker room . . . later, he explained i thought i might be able to check him out in the shower . . . his aggressiveness shouldn't have come as any surprise but i couldn't believe he would try to pick up somebody after i had just paid his admission fee.

a dark, hairy guy with a slight belly in the sauna independently corroborated the Blue Light Special's appeal . . . he literally looked right past me and sat down between the two of us when he entered . . . his physical unattractiveness made it easy to pretend for as long as i could stand the heat that i was an anthropologist observing the mating habits of 30something homosexuals . . . the tension between them kept escalating as the Blue Light Special occasionally glanced down at the blue towel that barely covered the Greek's crotch.

how long do U think the Blue Light Special stayed in the sauna with the Greek after i left? . . . long enough to get his name and an invitation back to the guy's apartment for a threesome that didn't include me . . . he stopped confiding this information when the Greek joined us in the shower though his erection didn't diminish . . . i left them alone a second time, determined to ditch the Blue Light Special permanently if he hadn't joined me at my locker by the time i finished dressing . . . very slowly.

so did u make a date? i asked when he beat the clock . . . no, of course not. i didn't like him very much . . . did he know u were here with me? i pressed . . . no, why should i tell him that? . . . to clarify things perhaps? . . . the guy probably put two and two together, however: he walked past us as the Blue Light Special weakly assured me that he would never hook up with a guy when we were together without my involvement.

he's an actor, he probably believes what he says when he's saying it . . . i turned to grin accusingly at the Blue Light Special a couple of nights later during Sideways when Paul Giamatti defends his friend to Virginia Madsen after she has learned that he's getting married to another woman in a few days even though he's been fucking her friend and telling her that he adores her child and hopes to open a winery with her . . . his body language changed immediately . . . earlier he had asked what are u doing? when i draped my arm around the back of his seat but now he moved away from me in his seat and crossed his arms in front of him . . . we walked home arguing about the movie which he insisted had been done better by the French in the 60s . . . the story is probably too American for u and besides u aren't old enough to really get it i countered . . . we went to sleep without having sex.

nor did we have sex when we got up . . . by this time it had become ball bustingly apparent that a threesome was the Blue Light Special's preferred form of trysting after years of picking up men with Thug Lover . . . was this his way of having his cake and eating it, too? . . . he claimed repeatedly that he didn't have sex with Thug Lover anymore and that he wasn't supposed to bring people home . . . that's when the Frankfurt Banker chimed in with so maybe u are simply providing him with a playground . . . . albeit one whose amenities suffered in comparison to those that now occupied forbidden territory in Pavonia Newport . . . u need to get a jailhouse fuck bed he urged after having to stop, not for the first time, in mid thrust, to prevent a vase of pussy willow branches from toppling off my headboard . . . that way u can grip the iron rails behind u. they're good for other things, too.

we wasted much of a Saturday afternoon and evening cruising for sex online . . . i got so frustrated that i suggested we take a stroll to the Ramble . . . he changed into a pair of white corduroy pants with patched pockets that he said he had been wearing since the early 90s (my kinda guy, my closet is like a clothes museum), a baseball cap and a bomber jacket . . . this outfit that made me want to rip off his clothes and fuck him on the spot . . . instead i suggested that he show me which paths, benches and hot spots he favors when he's by himself.

sex addicts with a fondness for the Ramble must think alike . . . his route was almost identical to mine though our pace differed . . . u must slow down he said as if i didn't know how to cruise properly . . . a group of Hispanic guys muttered approvingly as we walked past . . . hey that one with the cute butt looks like Justin in Queer As Folk . . . i guess i'm not the only one who appears 20 years younger under a waxing moon.

there weren't many people about but just as we were about to give up, Triple Stogie had claimed his usual spot . . . let's stop here i suggested nervously . . . we sat at one end of the bench while our quarry completed a lengthy cell phone conversation . . . he keeps looking over at us the Blue Light Special observed . . . take your cock out and i'll go down on u and we'll see what happens i responded but he ignored me . . . should i suck his cock? he asked . . . i don't think he'll let u . . . nor did he . . . when the Blue Light Special got up and made his move, Triple Stogie waved him away . . . i only like to watch he said . . . that would have been my cue for the two of us to start having sex, but the Blue Light Special just sat there, jerking off with Triple Stogie until i got up to leave.

no sex again that night though the Blue Light Special stayed up a couple of hours longer than me trying to hook up with some guy in Brooklyn . . . and when he finally did come to bed, he insisted on slipping Nights In Black Leather, the only porn i owned that he hadn't yet watched, into the VCR.

while i baked bran muffins Sunday morning, he took his place at my computer and started his quest all over again . . . very Groundhog Day . . . after washing the dishes and reading the newspaper i watched him with mounting irritation . . . maybe if i go into the bedroom and look at the porn he brought along in his bag of tricks he will join me . . . bad idea . . . not that i'm any connoisseur, but unattractive "stars," poor lighting and Scream scenarios just don't float my boat especially when they produce not an erection but a blow-by-blow critical commentary from the man i want to fuck . . . the strategy did succeed in freeing up my computer, however . . . maybe our luck will change if i work the keyboard myself.

two hours later, with the day completely wasted and still no prospects in sight, i'm eager for the Blue Light Special to vamoose . . . this hasn't been our usual pattern . . . usually he stays over Sunday nights and we stay in bed most of Monday, but tomorrow i have my second interview for a major job.

the Blue Light Special picks up on my mood change . . . it was interesting to watch u in the park last night i said when he lay down next to me on the bed . . . i didn't expect u to try to go down on Triple Stogie, at least not so eagerly i said . . . but u wanted to sit down next to him and he had a nice cock. what did u want to do?

he already knew the answer his question . . . we finally had sex, as intense as ever, which restored my good humor over the objections of the Frankfurt Banker who screamed CAN'T U SEE HOW HE IS MANIPULATING U?

but just as the Blue Light Special was about to say goodbye, not long after he accepted, without comment or thanks, $15 to buzz my hair (exactly what my gorgeous but straight barber from Tajikistan charges, including tip), i stuck my hands in his front pockets and found condoms, lube and poppers . . . they're from last night he quickly explained before removing them and stuffing them back into his bag of tricks which i notice he never lets out of his sight . . . that means u had them when i showed u the hidden staircase east of Belvedere Castle, the place where i put the moves on u last night . . . yes, of course he replied . . . i brought them in case we found a threesome.

how silly to expect that he would waste them on sex with me . . . why is the Frankfurt Banker always right?