As attractive as I find wee Canadian diver Alexandre Despatie, it's unlikely that anything will ever happen between us. There are many reasons for this, but the most relevant are that he doesn't know who I am and also that he's a heterosexual teenager and therefore would probably be immune to the romantic advances of a leering homosexual stranger. Therefore I leer from afar, and pant, and occasionally moan, in total anonymity, in my comfortable chair, alone, hoping only that somehow, by some mysterious mechanism or force, my leers will not only cross an international border to penetrate Alexandre Despatie's consciousness but will also provoke a sympathetic response therein, miraculously, a response signaled by the astonishing spectacle of Alexandre Despatie dropping everything and rushing to my side to be my lover.

If this were to occur (clearly a very big if), any number of scenarios could play out, many of them extremely satisfying from my point of view. For instance, I am envisioning sitting on a sofa with my arm around Alexandre Despatie's shoulder, sharing a bowl of popcorn, watching a vapid movie which I can barely tolerate but which elicits from Alexandre Despatie hoots and howls of elation. Occasionally I'd lean over to sniff Alexandre Despatie's neck, or fellate Alexandre Despatie, or impale myself anally upon Alexandre Despatie's engorged penis while staring into Alexandre Despatie's molten seductive eyes, completely blocking his view. Or I could see myself and Alexandre Despatie waking up in bed together on the sunniest of sunny mornings, a Sunday morning, and I'd turn to Alexandre Despatie and cry "I love you Alexandre Despatie!" or "Sit on my face, Alexandre Despatie!" or other such tender ejaculations, and Alexandre Despatie would love me and sit on my face on that beautiful sunny morning. Just about anything Alexandre Despatie is up for, he could pretty much count me in. If Alexandre Despatie asked me to murder his enemies I'd seriously consider it, although it's hard to imagine Alexandre Despatie having any enemies. It's completely within the realm of possibility that if Alexandre Despatie wanted to piss in my mouth I would let this occur, despite the fact that the idea of having my mouth pissed into has never appealed to me even for one single moment and in fact makes me gag just to think about it, not surprising given my well-documented pathological horror of excreta. There are people whose piss you would enjoy swallowing in spite of the fact that you don't enjoy swallowing piss under any other circumstances, and for me Alexandre Despatie is one of those people, the top of a very short list of people. Your list is probably different, the list of people whom you'd let urinate into your mouth. This is the beauty of human diversity in its most fragrantly foul manifestation. In fact one of the ways I can recognize the waning of a particular erotic fixation is when I can no longer tolerate the notion of the person in question pissing in my mouth under any circumstances. As Alexandre Despatie was pissing in my mouth, I'd gaze up at him with sparkling eyes of love and gurgle "Ah Yuv You Awezawa Despai!"