I just blogged about the insanity of gays who’ll practically let you fuck them in public, but if you then try plant a kiss on them, they’ll squeal, “Outrageous! How dare you do something so personal in front of people!” Well, I’ve noticed yet another odd bit of gay club behavor. Even if someone begs you for your number, they generally will never call! They just wanted your freakin’ info to add to their grisly collection! They consider that a conquest in itself! I swear, the freaks simply wanted to use you to increase their cellular menage of people they hope to never see or talk to again. It’s a total score for them–they get an immediate rise out of all that frantic number punching—and once they’ve gotten a druggie charge out of it, they’re completely satisfied and don’t want to risk any further interaction. Call them the next day and you’ll be greeted with a veritable sheet of ice as if you’ve beamed in from outer space and crashed in on their utter serenity. Trust me. Exchanging numbers in clubs is a futile exercise that is done strictly out of late-night compulsion. There’s no point to it at all—except that if the person DOES call, your Caller ID will say who it is and you’ll be sure to not pick up!