The Dreary Dom

Whenever I deal with BDSM communities, I know I will encounter the Dreary Dom.
He doesn’t want to talk to me, of course, but has the bare minimum of socialization to know that he must hold some kind of conversation with me in order to avoid being seen as rude.  But our conversation is low on eye contact; he’s continually looking over my shoulder in an attempt to find women he could be talking to, and only perks up when I’m a) discussing his talents, or b) providing a possible angle to meet newer and younger women.
He’s in his mid-thirties, with a bit of a gut, and was never conventionally attractive to begin with – but strangely, everyone he dates is in their early twenties, the younger the better.  He rhapsodizes over every one of them, telling them all how they’re beautiful stars, praising them endlessly for their strange emotional depth. No, you don’t expect a woman so young to act so mature, but you, my darling – you have a wisdom that really resonates.
Not one of these women has the wisdom to ask why he never dates anyone over thirty, except maybe for a wife propped casually on the sidelines, but hey.  It’s not that they’re young and attractive.  It’s all their personality, nothing more. Oh, hey, did I mention that I have this case of wine over here? It’s very expensive.  At least to someone on your just-out-of-college budget.
It’s not necessarily a bad thing, but the Dreary Dom will go through a number of submissive women between each of our sporadic meeting.  He doesn’t seem to pick them up on positive reviews, either; he seems to find women in isolation to impress and coddle, and they stay for a time before moving on to other partners.  In this sense, sometimes I wonder whether the Dreary Dom is a rite of passage in the BDSM community for young women, some first spark of romance and interest before they find he’s really not all that interesting. I wonder what need the Dreary Dom fulfills.
The Dreary Dom isn’t actively evil or anything.  Just sort of tedious.  I’ve met him a hundred times, all under different faces, none of those faces quite willing to make eye contact with me because somewhere, there’s a cute young girl and he’d much rather be with her than killing time with me.