You: hot guy with the faux hawk, camos, and gonch undies with perfect tan line, 4% bodyfat, american apparel tri-blend track shirt, L7silvr phone, ipod nano on stairclimber reading DNA Magazine and drinking a Macchiato with nonfat foam.
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Me: buzzed cut, ripped tatted guy with 501's with a flash of ice blue aussie bum undies and wife beater chillin on my nano with some Eminem and texting my bros on my sidekick and drinking Twinlab Extreme Ripped Force Drink.
We checked each other out for a millisecond there but I was too shy to appoach you. I definately felt there was some chemistry heating up and would like to take it to the next level. Hit me up if you wanna grab some coffee or a drink. Or dinner.
Or maybe we could go on an Atlantis Gay Cruise together and they can take photos of us for the brochure with you on my shoulders in matching awning striped speedos looking tan and in love.
Or maybe we could snap up a couple of French Bulldogs and name them Louis and Vuitton and have our portrait done with us in matching khakis and barefoot to send as a Christmas Card.
Or maybe we could do a shit load of Tina and K and E and GHB and feel really hot and go to White Party in outfits made by BCBG and dance shirtless in the glistening sweat of the other manboys around us.
Or maybe something about you can help me fill this desperate lonliness and emptiness that has been devouring me as I frantically chase an image and life of someone I will never be. Maybe I won't have to use words like "hit me up" and "grab coffee" and "bro" to mask the self loathing homophobia I possess, praying they will make me come across as butch and straight and hell, anything but the sad, starving, lonely, judgemental, bitter, cynical, poser, wannabe that I really am.
Seriously Dude. Hit me up, if you are interested.