David from San Francisco has just arrived for a week-long visit. I pick him up at the airport, drop his stuff off at my apartment, and take him to dinner at a tapas place nearby. I'm complaining about how much I hate it here: my tiny apartment, the long commute to my terrible job, the lack of gay organizations...
And especially the endless parade of twinks desperate to come to my room for NSA sex before they go on to their real lives with their real friends.
"Nonsense!" David exclaims. "This is a bona fide gay neighborhood, lots of guys to date. You're just going about it wrong. Let an old pro demonstrate."
"I've been out longer than you have."
"True, but I've had more experience. Watch me do my magic in the City of Brotherly Love -- I'll bet you I can get dates with 10 -- no, 15 guys in one day."
"15 guys in one day!" I exclaim. "No way!"
"If I get all 15," David says, "You have to pay for my trip out here. If I don't, I'll pay for a flight out to San Francisco to visit me next summer."
I accept the bet, with these rules:
1. "Getting a date" will be defined as: convincing a guy to give you his telephone number.
2. The phone number must be real and working. On a follow-up call, the guy must answer.
3. You don't have to actually go through with the date or hookup.
4. You must acquire all phone numbers during the next 24 hours, between 8:00 pm Wednesday and 8:00 pm Thursday.
David puts a 24-hour timer on his cell phone. "Well, we better get started."
The full post, with nude photos and sexual content, is on Tales of West Hollywood.