Fond du Lac, Honey? More Like Fond du Don't

Let's just get one thing straight, shall we? This isn't some polite little Midwestern missive. This is a declaration of independence, a resounding "NO THANKS," a full-throated rejection of the Fond du Lac gay scene. Consider this my official "break-up" letter to the entire lot of you. And honey, it's not you, it's… well, actually, it is you. All of you.

Look, I'm a grown man. I know what I want. And what I don't want is anything to do with the Fond du Lac gay community. You guys are so… beige. Like a lukewarm bowl of oatmeal with no brown sugar. Bland. Boring. Zzzzz. I'd rather wrestle a badger in a tutu than endure another excruciatingly dull conversation with a Fond du Lac "gay." Honestly, my personality is too vibrant, too seasoned, too fabulous for your palate. You wouldn't know flavor if it slapped you in the face with a rainbow trout.

And the age thing? Don't even get me started. It's like a geriatric convention up in here. I swear, some of you were around when they invented the rotary phone. I'm looking for a little spark, a little zing, not a dusty relic from the disco era. You're not even on my radar, you're so far back in the archives of my mind.

Then there's the "younger" generation. Oh, honey, the drama. The entitlement. The rudeness. You're all so busy being "fierce" and "yas queen" that you've forgotten how to be, you know, pleasant. Newsflash: being a sissy diva doesn't make you interesting. It makes you annoying. I'd rather gargle with gravel than listen to another one of your whiny, self-absorbed monologues.

And let's talk about the closeted contingent. Oh, the closeted men of Fond du Lac. You're married to your wives, living your "respectable" lives, but then you slide into my DMs at night, all hot and bothered. Please. I see you. I know you. And I'm not interested. Go back to your wives, your secrets, and your repressed desires. I'm not your late-night snack. I'm not your escape. I'm not your anything. Seriously, the sheer number of you lurking in the shadows is enough to make a gay man question his entire existence. You want me, you don't want me, you're confused, I'm confused… just go away. Seriously, leave me alone. I'd rather date a cactus.

The whole "everyone knows everyone" thing? Yeah, no thanks. I prefer my dating pool to be a little less… incestuous. I like my men like I like my coffee: from somewhere else. I'm single, fabulous, and exploring. And "exploring" does notinclude the stagnant gene pool of Fond du Lac.

So, to the gay men of Fond du Lac: consider this a restraining order. Stay out of my DMs. Stay out of my thoughts. Stay out of my vicinity. I'm not interested in your saggy pizza personalities, your geriatric charm, or your closeted desires. I'd rather eat my own weight in razor blades than spend another minute in your company. Consider this my official declaration: Fond du Lac? More like Fond du Don't. I'm out. Peace out. And don't let the doorknob hit you on the way out… of my life.