Forget your favourite gay club; the best place to pick up guys, it would seem, is now your local supermarket. Okay, maybe this isn’t the case everywhere, but shopping in my local store is like gayday at Boys “R” Us. Straight after work is unofficially the ‘singles hour’ and a good time to catch a fast-living, party boy if you just want something quick and shallow, like a tarte perhaps, but you have to be quick with these boys – they’re on one express checkout out of there. You’ll probably catch one in the alcohol section, or maybe the deli counter – hey these boys don’t have time to cook!
The starting point in my supermarket is the fruit and veg section, which seems to be like the towels-on, sun lounger area in a sauna, where guys circle and observe each other, lying in wait until they see something they like; then it’s off down the aisle for some ‘basket bashing’. I find it’s generally a good idea to spend time filling your basket with phallic-shaped vegetables, taking time to examine them, caress them for signs of bruising and, after a quick glance to see who’s observing you, place it lovingly in your basket. I’ve even identified a rudimentary code in operation: lots of soft, fleshy ones like a peach or tomatoes if you’re passive and, obviously, bananas, carrots, or courgettes etc. for the actives, depending on your size – I wouldn’t go near a guy with an aubergine in his trolley! A whole cucumber can give mixed signals.
Sometimes you want something with a bit more substance, like a risotto perhaps, and during the day is a better time for such a wholesome dish. You’ll spot the guys who are genuinely planning to cook such a dish with all the ingredients in their shopping basket, and would happily invite you round for some home cooking and cock sucking; these are the guys who take their time browsing the shelves. In fact, you’ll have to be quite blatant, because these guys are actually thinking about food and can’t see beyond their trolley – reaching for the same tin at the same time usually does it. A word of caution about these gays though: if they spend too long looking at the labels, they’ve got issues, and you do have to wonder why they’re here in the middle of the day. But you just have to read the packaging carefully.
If it’s a slow night then you can always just enjoy the eye-candy shelf-stackers, purely employed for your edification – ooh, the sight of any of them bending down in their regulation, tight-fitting trousers; I sometimes ask one of them to show me something I know is on a low shelf just in the hope. It always makes me laugh how all the staff at my supermarket are a) male b) young and c)cute – I would love to be a fly on the wall in one of those interviews/casting couches – I picture a Fagin type manager who, at the end, says “now, if you could just drop your pants.”
Sunday is couples day, so best avoided, unless you want to go down that route – too many rows over the meat counter to contend with though. It’s also worth mentioning the bargain-hunter type that will do a fast-mince round the shop, holding their (empty) basket in handbag fashion, seeing what special offers they can pick up; often leaving with little more than a scratch card – desperate is never attractive.
The checkout (appropriately named) is the ‘last chance saloon’ – after you’ve picked your till based on the cuteness of the guy serving, this is that now-or-never moment to make eyes with the guy you noticed earlier who’s queuing at the next checkout, or maybe a glance up and down the lines in case you missed something better. You’ll have plenty of time for a bit of eyeball volley and eventual smile with your chosen one, but pay attention to the queue in front; there’s nothing more embarrassing than being so into the guy that you didn’t notice the gap open up. Of course, the checkout guy knows what’s going on and smiles when you hand over your change, but that’s part of the fun and, besides, soon you and your catch will be out in the car park together, very happy shoppers indeed.
Boys "r" us
The starting point in my supermarket is the fruit and veg section, which seems to be like the towels-on, sun lounger area in a sauna, where guys circle and observe each other, lying in wait until they see something they like; then it’s off down the aisle for some ‘basket bashing’. I find it’s generally a good idea to spend time filling your basket with phallic-shaped vegetables, taking time to examine them, caress them for signs of bruising and, after a quick glance to see who’s observing you, place it lovingly in your basket. I’ve even identified a rudimentary code in operation: lots of soft, fleshy ones like a peach or tomatoes if you’re passive and, obviously, bananas, carrots, or courgettes etc. for the actives, depending on your size – I wouldn’t go near a guy with an aubergine in his trolley! A whole cucumber can give mixed signals.
Sometimes you want something with a bit more substance, like a risotto perhaps, and during the day is a better time for such a wholesome dish. You’ll spot the guys who are genuinely planning to cook such a dish with all the ingredients in their shopping basket, and would happily invite you round for some home cooking and cock sucking; these are the guys who take their time browsing the shelves. In fact, you’ll have to be quite blatant, because these guys are actually thinking about food and can’t see beyond their trolley – reaching for the same tin at the same time usually does it. A word of caution about these gays though: if they spend too long looking at the labels, they’ve got issues, and you do have to wonder why they’re here in the middle of the day. But you just have to read the packaging carefully.
If it’s a slow night then you can always just enjoy the eye-candy shelf-stackers, purely employed for your edification – ooh, the sight of any of them bending down in their regulation, tight-fitting trousers; I sometimes ask one of them to show me something I know is on a low shelf just in the hope. It always makes me laugh how all the staff at my supermarket are a) male b) young and c)cute – I would love to be a fly on the wall in one of those interviews/casting couches – I picture a Fagin type manager who, at the end, says “now, if you could just drop your pants.”
Sunday is couples day, so best avoided, unless you want to go down that route – too many rows over the meat counter to contend with though. It’s also worth mentioning the bargain-hunter type that will do a fast-mince round the shop, holding their (empty) basket in handbag fashion, seeing what special offers they can pick up; often leaving with little more than a scratch card – desperate is never attractive.
The checkout (appropriately named) is the ‘last chance saloon’ – after you’ve picked your till based on the cuteness of the guy serving, this is that now-or-never moment to make eyes with the guy you noticed earlier who’s queuing at the next checkout, or maybe a glance up and down the lines in case you missed something better. You’ll have plenty of time for a bit of eyeball volley and eventual smile with your chosen one, but pay attention to the queue in front; there’s nothing more embarrassing than being so into the guy that you didn’t notice the gap open up. Of course, the checkout guy knows what’s going on and smiles when you hand over your change, but that’s part of the fun and, besides, soon you and your catch will be out in the car park together, very happy shoppers indeed.