Consider the flake. Is there a more hated figure? Of course we all are somewhat flaky, but the shame of this means none will admit it. We are the guilty judge and jury. We are the condemned jerking off at the accused.

Everything changed after the hyperconsent court case. "I am so tired of fucking teases," said Chief Justice Roberts of the decision. "The people deserve better. App use is now mandatory for 18+, and taps are contractually binding. For the good of us all."

Chats can never be truly lost, even if all electronic records of them are wiped from existence. They reside in our minds, our hearts, and especially in the growing paranoia that we’ve already spoken to all these people and decided we hated them a long time ago.

I haven’t had the the courage to block anyone yet, even that man who stole my kidney. Is there anything more final than a block? There is death, yes. But death removes you from your options, whereas blocking removes your options from you.

I am a headless torso. I’ve no face worth mentioning, other than that I assure you it’s there. It feels right--nipples for eyes, mouthless stomach. I am headless, ergo I am without worry, without spite. And no teeth or eyes, I guess. This is me now.

Grindr profile. Not a last resort, not a first resort.

Normally there’s a different kind of “knows too much” on Grindr.

My dick, it burns at both ends;

It will not last the night;

But ah, my foes, and oh, my friends--

The smell is truly awful.

This will not actually save them, not for long. Not in the end. I will creep under doors and through the topsoil like gasses from the decomposed--and I will wrap my gaseous self around them from the inside out,

their pores shall breathe of me.

When I was in high school, on a class field trip, I was bit by a radioactive boy. The encounter left me with superhuman person powers. Now I lead a lonely dual life as both myself, and Boyman, a man with the crushing responsibility of boyhood.