I'm in love with an XTube profile

I have a very obscured libido. It shows up only for heavily regretted party appearances after much coaxing by sexy things like alcohol and dim lighting and lies we tell ourselves and meth. But I do end up roaming XTube quite a bit—frequent searches include "wheelchairs" and "obese"—but other than that my desires do not go unfulfilled because I have no desires. Well, until the other day when, like the sexy, feminist Louisiana breeze that overcame that chick in The Awakening, I myself became awake (like that) to the whims of XTube user ICARUSFALLING. Desperate and needy like the rest of you adults (and only adults are reading this, yes? If not, you need to shoo) once more, I am changed.

First of all, there is this video to be considered.

If ever there was a way to entice every sexy urge in my largely sexless body it is presented with this video. I mean, it's set to my favorite song of all time, 'Goodbye Horses' (the official anthem of the poorly-adjusted young homosexual with violent tendencies, as far as I'm concerned, AKA my people) and for the first decade of my existence that mangina skincoat scene in Silence of the Lambs was basically the only porn I jerked off to.

Also, did he shoot this on tape or something? Because it looks like it is playing back on a VCR and he's recording that with another camera. Every little stutter and fuck-up and grain in the quality of the video makes me sweat. The incongruous editing, the part where he turns around to face the wall and then it suddenly jumps to him facing the camera… I literally might puke from being turned on so much. I mean, in 41 seconds it pretty much blows chunks (again with the puke metaphor, sorry) all over all of the dumb crap the film majors at my school made and I can't even tell what was, like, an artistic XTube choice and what was him just not knowing how to use a web cam and iMovie.

Also, we don't even need to talk about the whole Kurt thing, I can SEE what he looks like. He's so hot it almost doesn't even matter to me. In fact, the only reason his appearance—which is SO RIGHT—matters is because, in assessing his personal profile, videos, and photos, his good looks are probably lost on the regular faggy world in consideration of his weirdo interests.

As he says in the opening line of his 'About Me' section, he is a "loner by nature." Beautiful loners are the kind that inspire Gus Van Sant movies and shoot up schools and tattoo the number 23 on their knuckles and you heard from someone once that they practice sex magick and stuff like that. They're not the big losers we remember, the ones with bad skin who wore those giant raver pants from Hot Topic and read Ren-Faireish poems in class about Earth's destruction or whatever. Rather, they're the oddly attractive, brooding, silent ones that never gave a fuck about anything, the ambiguous ones whose sexuality you could never figure out (probably because they couldn't either because it was all just whatever to them). They're, you know, the ones that you wanted to talk to but couldn't find a way to do it so you started smoking cigarettes so you could ask them for a light after school one day but then your mom smelled the smoke in her car and you got in so much shit you were grounded for a month.

This guy's profile informs me that, ever the learned man, he is "getting an associate degree in Mortuary Science," and though my immediate response is "Go for the Bachelors!" his fixation with death is certainly not unappealing to me. He continues: "I don't understand other people's emotions… looking forward to grief counseling class so I can learn how to fake it". This is the sort of sociopath initiative that I applaud. Naturally, he loves "attractive serial killers" as do I, and he also likes to "read in the bath tub" — as do I!

His film and music interests are blandly alternative and mildly eclectic, suitable enough for me to ignore and override by forcing all of my own much better tastes upon him. There are only a few majorly embarrassing inclusions (Gone with the Wind, Mindless Self Indulgence, Yelle, etc…)that we'll have to work through. His reading habits are gloriously and singularly focused on a small scope of macabre topics. A selection of titles: "American Psycho, The Melancholy Death of Oyster Boy, Death Scenes, Shots in the dark, Driven to Kill, Killing for Company, No One Can Hurt Him Anymore, Cannibal Killers, The Dracula Killer, Rites of Burial, The A-Z Encyclopedia of Serial Killers, Exquisite Corpse, Serial Killers: The Insatiable Passion, Home Book of Taxidermy, Murder and Mayhem, Death: A History of Man's Obsessions and Fears, Stiff: The Curious Lives of Human Cadavers, A History of Cannibalism, The Man Who Killed Boys, Milwaukee Massacre." What can I say, I love an obsessive type. Not because I am one or anything.

His 'hobbies' at this point just seem redundant, but, to no one's surprise include "thantology," "daydreaming of the apocalypse" (ok, so he probably was responsible for some pretty retarded tenth grade poems), "embalming/mummification," "swimming," and "buying vintage clothes." More or less a list of my hobbies, too!

Under his 'turn ons' he lists the following, (all on par with my own lusts): "Skin heads, salt and pepper hair, white or gray hair on young people (skin tone must equally be pale), guys that are capable of hunching their backs with a deep arch when sitting (like a rat)". I mean, the rat bit alone conjures all these messed up Willard images in my head (this is a good thing), and, like me, he has a thing for twins as well as speech impediments and, most sacred of all my turn-ons, ski masks. Appraising this, I am almost certainly willing to trek to whatever godforsaken southern village in which he surely has lived from birth, whip on my ski mask, burglarize his grandmother's house (where I imagine he lives in the basement), tie her up or whatev, commence with the sex rituals (sacrificial blood, etc) and bring him back with me here where I'll chain him in my living room/sex dungeon, Boy George-style, to keep and worship forever and ever.

Before making haste with the plans, however, I rescan his list of 'turn-ons' to make sure I actually qualify as an enticing partner… hates perfect teeth, loves long hair, some blondes, pale skin, rat hunch, nice hands (I'll give myself that), tattoos, but, shit, he likes muscular guys which I am most definitely NOT. Oh but also does skinny as long as they have pubes… uh, that works. I've also got that appendix scar and, wait, upon re-rereading I realize I've missed the golden ticket: he loves "forced sex" thereby negating all previously mentioned physical preferences and also possibly assisting me in the enactment of many of my deep-seated rape/torture fantasies… I'm in!

Unfortunately, he also specifies that he is not interested in hooking up with people from online, and, normally neither am I, but I'm pretty sure that this is like, true love or whatever. A man like this needs someone to foster his interests in killing and taxidermy and vintage shopping with the tender guidance only a fucked up gay freak like me can provide. So if anyone has any info regarding his whereabouts, let me know. The more I watch you, the more I want you. Kill me now, Icarus. My corpse is yours for the dissecting.