There’s this little cub in France who’s chatting me up on BearWWW, in another tab on Safari. He tells me he’s into older chubby guys, but that I’m cute and he’d make an exception for me. He has an older lover. I inquire about the older lover. Delicately. He tells me that he wants to snuggle. I say that I’d love to snuggle with him. And his lover. I imagine his older lover. They’re in France. I think of the coffee and brioche we’ll have in bed the next morning, the cheese. He goes on to describe this thing he’d do to me. I describe that thing I’d do to him. He describes this other thing he’d do to me. I describe that other thing I’d do to him. Where is this going? Isn’t it lunch time in France? He asks if he can chat with me again, that I’m very imaginative. Flattered, I say yes, you handsome little cub. Someone’s daddy bear in France needs me.
Tales of Post-Twinkie Ennui