Kevryn NOW, safely cocooned in his desert hugbox, with no chance of anyone other than the tranchers coming close enough to him to trigger his social anxiety:
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Versus Future Kevryn (fuck that guy), who, when he's actually visiting London, will bail on EVERY offer of actually meeting these freaks and going with them to the Degenerate Pride Fest. Nor will he ever hook up with any of his international polycule wives for that much-bragged-about heckin' queer lesbian T4T sex. He will instead do what he did last time: Cower in Seb's bedroom and have shitty franchise chain pizza delivered.
"Seb, would you mind dealing with the pizza delivery guy? I'm feeling overwhelmed right now and need to hide under the bed and think about all this hawt sex I'm having at this very moment."
What a cock tease. But of course, on some level, his thirsty paramours will be secretly relieved to not have to meet him IRL and make awkward sexy noises at each other. Because they too know that it's all performative bullshit.