OkCryptid: The Monster Dating App

Karama (MLM) NSFW

You had a dirty little secret that you didn't tell anyone. Women got enough crap for doing it, but you couldn't imagine the amount of ribbing you'd get if your friends found it out.

You read romance novels.

Being a gay man, you preferred men who love men romances, but really, you'd read any orientation if the story was compelling. Though, saying that, you did tend to be a bit picky.

You stayed away from the books that portrayed LGBT characters as sex-maniacs or nymphos or flat out fetishized them. It's like the writers of these books had never actually met a gay person or just thought that all non-straight people wanted to do was have casual sex, as though they weren't actually interested in meaningful relationships. What they did to bisexuals in these books was just criminal. You even looked up a few of the authors and, surprise surprise, a lot of them were straight women.

There was one author you really loved, Elliot Ritter, one of the few men who wrote romance and did it really well. His characterizations were believable and not all rippling muscles and perfect hair, the sex wasn't over the top, and the romances felt natural and compelling. You often found yourself fantasizing about his characters. You even considered writing him to tell him how much you loved his work, but you didn't want to come across as a crazed fanboy.

Reading his work, though, had made you feel lonely. Dating in your area organically hadn't really panned out for you, but you did have an OkCryptid account. You'd only met two people on there, both human, and they had both ended up being hook-ups. It was fun, but you were always hoping for something more... well, romantic. Guys wanted to be wined and dined as much as anyone else did.

One night at work, you got a ping on your phone. Your profile had been dormant for a long time, so it was a pleasant surprise.

>You're a fan of Elliot Ritter?

Your heart leapt. >Yes, very much. He's a genius. Are you?

>He's all right. Anita Seaver is better.

>Are you nuts? You argued. >Anita Seaver is a hack, her sex scenes are repetitive. If you've read one of her books, you've practically read all of them.

>What about Jay Stone?

>Two dimensional characters, no depth. They all have the same personality.

>You certainly have a strong opinion about this, they said.

Your boss yelled at you in the distance to get off your phone and back to work, and you grimaced.

>Listen, I'd love to talk more about this, but I'm at work right now. Can I message you later?

>Sure. I look forward to it.

After your shift was over, you eagerly checked the profile of the person who had sent you the message. His name was Lamieta, and he was a black-skinned, bisexual tiefling with glowing green eyes and two sets of gold horns, the larger pair sitting atop the smaller pair just above his hairline. He wasn't really your type; he was into various sports and expensive cars and he was smoking in his profile picture, which was a turn-off, but you were totally willing to give him a chance, even if it was just to talk about books.

>I'm out of work now. You texted him. >It's really nice to talk to someone else who likes these kinds of books. I feel like I'm one of four people in the world who reads gay romance in a non-fetish way.

>Yeah, I totally get that. It doesn't help that the sample size is so small. Good writers who do right by their characters are few and far between.