A gay indie boy living in suburban South West London recounts his trials and tribulations dealing with sex, sexuality, growing up and getting older

Sunday, February 18, 2007

MySpace: How Hipsters Do Rejection

Okay, so you spend a lovely night with a guy, you're not sure if you'll see each other again, but fuck it; single and fabulous, right?

So then comes the crunch. You know, you're not sure whether or not to leave your number (and just as a note, I always do. This isn't desperation, it's more because then you're absolutely blameless and they can feel guilty for not calling you when you're really, really nice to them if you ever see them out, even though you don't give a shit either way. I know; it's manipulative, but hey...). But recently numbers seem to have become obsolete, and there is in fact A BRAND NEW WAY of saying "this was a one night stand".

"Are you on MySpace?"

Yes; me and my friends have now discovered that if a man asks for your MySpace poist-coitus, you can forget the candlelit dinners, forget the drinks in the champagne rooms of Kettners. MySpace now equals "I'm never going to see you again but just so I remember who you are I'll read your bulletins occasionally, and maybe even make you fill out those fucking shitty questionnaires about what your favourite colour was when you were 3, and what you ate in the last decade."

Now this new technique works on two levels; one, they can file you away with their other 2,100 friends (and now I'm thinking how many of those people has he actually slept with), and two if you try and give them your number, they can rebuff you with "Well, I've got your MySpace anyway if I want to get in touch"

So no more guilt tripping with numbers. Just a piece of paper with www.myspace.com/dontletthedoorhityourarseonthewayout. I guess good old fashioned honesty is just an inconvenience in today's technological society

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