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forty-two), with a face that was overly tanned and lined. His bedroom décor was also vile and would have proved a serious distraction to having sex.
    I sent HotBloke a message—
HotBloke, I would love to have a hot poke with you
—bookmarked him as the first of my favourites and moved on down the list. It didn’t take me long to strike someone I knew and I eagerly opened his profile. Philippe aka Paddington-Bear was a hideous French queen, who Ant had fucked once in a weak moment and that Strauss, perversely, had wanted to. Philippe had always been a bit chubby, but he’d clearly decided to embrace his size and tout himself as a bear. Everything was on display—his grizzled chest, his big bloated belly, his ‘hairy treasure trail’, and a dick which was reputed to be large but was somewhat dwarfed by the immense pubic bush from out of which it poked. It amused me that Philippe listed one of his favourite sexual activities as shaving—he certainly looked in desperate need of someone to take a razor to him. Possibly that was the point of displaying photographs in which his body hair threatened to overwhelm him.
    I didn’t know Philippe well. I’d only ever met him the once and taken an instant dislike to him. Nevertheless, it was immensely titillating to read highly personal information about him, details which I was sure Strauss would be utterly agog to learn. His fetishes included body hair, facial hair, fur, and socks, while he listed his favourite actress as Sally Field. I could imagine that Strauss might have done whatever was required of him with the socks, however, Sally I knew he could not abide. There was no way in the world he would sit through her oeuvre. I began to appreciate just how handy Gaydar could be. The things you could find out!
    After encountering Philippe, I decided it was much more fun to scroll through Gaydar looking for people I knew, rather than for guys to have sex with. I came across numerous guys from the gym and was fascinated to read what they said about themselves. It was quite astonishing to learn who liked to be on top, on the bottom, or on the receiving end of someone’s fist. Then I came across Alejandro’s profile. Not only was he online but he had a status of hook-up now. I added him to my favourites so that I’d be able to find his profile again, then looked through his photographs with equal measures of lust and regret. It just seemed so senseless that he’d ended our sessions now that I was actually available. Clearly his latest resolve to be faithful to his boyfriend had been short-lived. Monogamy was another of those confusing English words that Alejandro had not mastered the meaning or practice of, and, I was quite sure, was never likely to.
    It had only been a few weeks since he’d rejected me. If he was horny, why hadn’t he hit me up? My fingers strayed onto the keyboard. I had a very strong impulse to say hi and see whether he’d had second thoughts. It was very easy to dismiss someone by text but I doubted Alejandro would be so resolute when confronted by the sexy photographs on my profile. There was a connection between the two of us that a mere glance could inflame, so the sight of my naked arse, well, it was a foregone conclusion. I began to type a message when suddenly the computer beeped at me angrily. My fingers sprang away from the keyboard as if they had been slapped. For a moment, I thought my computer had magically acquired more sense and dignity than I possessed, and was warning me not to commit such a desperate act. But then I realised: I had a Gaydar message.
    Amazingly, it was from HotBloke, asking to see my face pic. I e-mailed him my two headshots and within a couple of minutes, he had replied, complimenting me and asking if he should come over. I was amazed. Was it really as easy as this? I replied sure and gave him the address.
    HotBloke10:
Altair right? I’m in Potts Point so shouldn’t be too long. See you in 15.
    I immediately began to