Dale Dent's Diary. A Gay Romance Novel. 
by Woody Mller 

Relationship-hungry 27 year-old Dale Dent is as neurotic about sex and love as Bridget is about food and alcohol. He forecasts the possibility of eternal gay love, or at the very least, volcanic sex, through a daily success and failure barometer.

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FRIDAY, JULY 13
Hits I got from guys I was attracted to online: Two. Looks I got from guys I wasn’t attracted to: Eighteen. I don’t like the math.

Home. 1:02 a.m. Last night I clicked on my smartphone faster than a Flamenco dancer. Have chatted with dozens of guys but the only thing I’ve gone to bed with is carpal tunnel syndrome. Met four guys last week from this app but I sent them packing because they didn’t look like their pictures. Why do online guys gain 10 years and 20 pounds on their way to meet you?
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Like Bridget, Dale fears he’ll die alone and be discovered weeks later eaten by wild dogs. On the one hand, Dale is a romantic. He is intoxicated with the idea of getting a boyfriend. On the other hand, he is desperate to get laid. Dale’s best friend Richard (“the vulgarian” because he’s so crude) thinks Dale just needs to get laid. Dale agrees, but only with the kind of guy he wants to marry. So he desperately tries to crawl out of Singles Hell only to fling himself back in every chance he gets.

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SATURDAY, AUGUST 8

Personal Stock: Bearish. Dating potential: So low I’m about to be delisted from the stock exchange.

Home. 7:45 p.m. Richard on the phone. Tell him about meeting that heavenly guy who looks like something Caravaggio dreamt up. “Wait a minute,” the vulgarian says. “The guy with the lips so thick it’s like he just ate a plum and the juice is about to run down his chin?”

I felt nauseous. He cruised Richard, too? “Uh, yeah,” I said. "I slipped him a note at the gym."

“I did the same thing,” he said. “Saw him at Starbucks yesterday and slipped him a note.”

“Crap! What did your note say?”

“You first.”

“Come on, Richard, just tell me.”

"Nope. You first."

“Okay, but if you laugh I’m hanging up,” I said. “If you had been around, Michelangelo would have painted you into the Sistine Chapel. Coffee sometime?”

Silence. “Well, mine was a little different, Dale.”

“Why, what’d you write?”

“I’ve got a thick, eight inch dick. Let’s hook up.”

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Can Dale escape singles hell and settle down into the loving relationship he dreams about? Find out in the hilarious new entry in gay fiction/contemporary romance. It’s packed with graphic bedroom antics, high comedy and thoughtful insights into gay men’s psyche.

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