A Straight Guy Learns From Grindr

Sometimes, when my roommate gets really, really drunk, he let’s me screw around on his Grindr iPhone App in order to try and find him a tasty piece of man meat. Grindr, for those unaware, is an app that helps men find other men near them (using GPS) with which to have more or less no-strings-attached sexual relations. I, however, am not gay, bi, or otherwise have much interest in other men. I’m also completely incapable of being charming towards either sex. Thus, on Grindr, depending on my own level of intoxication, I do anything from genuinely trying to charm and seduce other men (unsurprisingly always a complete failure) to attempting to organize the most bizarre and kinky escapades I can imagine (surprisingly not always a complete failure). Throughout my attempts, I’ve learned a few things. I present you with my conclusions, which although based solely on a very small sampling of my own personal experiences whilst absolutely obliterated, I assure you can probably be labelled absolute and universal truths. Cheesy pet names are rarely questioned. In my own dating experiences, I was quick to learn that casually referring to a target mate as honey or baby is swiftly met with disdain. On Grindr, however, openings like, “heya stud,” and, “sup big poppa,” garner far less of a negative reaction. While this of course could be in part due to the gender dynamics at play which suggest a more condescending and insulting connotation within a mixed-gender context, I instead choose to believe that men who have sex with other men, as a rule, have a far greater sense of irony. Isn’t that right, Captain Chocolate Balls?

Dick pics are “a thing.” Yeah, yeah, I know. “It’s a platform for which men can find other men to bone. Why wouldn’t there be dick pics?” That’s fair. But I think it’s perhaps the function which is different. When you see dating ads posted by women, they almost always directly request that no close-up dick shots be sent. This is because, I assume, women see beyond the dick. They prefer the face, the back, the “personality.” Dick pics are, in their mind, not an attractive and valuable method of assessment. On Grindr, not only is it valuable, but necessary. As if shopping for a used car or a pair of shoes, the dick represents a specific function. Does the pictured object look as if it will fit my needs and/or holes? It should also be noted that pictures of four dudes’ ballsacks all pinched up and smashed into each other in order to form some sort of Power Rangers ultra-sack is a surprisingly acceptable alternative, too. Fear is not a factor. Only on Grindr does it not ring any alarm bells to ask the following questions in sequence: “Are you alone?”; “Are you petite?”; “What is your address?”. Based on pictures and measurements, you can determine if your potential lover (read: victim) is home, if they have any sort of protection of security in the form of a roommate (hell, asking, “You have a big dog…?” would probably fly, if not intrigue), and then their home address. Surmounted by the fact that nobody once questioned the fact that my username was HERPES_OF_DOOM and I’m pretty sure absolutely nobody on Grindr ever paid attention to the school lessons on talking to strangers.

Or, perhaps the idea of getting pulled into a van, bound, gagged and sodomized by a complete stranger sounded more to them like a half-decent Friday night than it did a scarring, life-altering experience. Ugly old creeps still try. My roommate is a strapping young man, and yet I was shocked to see how many messages he would receive from overweight meth-addicts, eighty-year-old dickdragons and almost assuredly convicted sex offenders. I can only assume this applies to the heterosexual world, too, which gives me a bit of confidence: on any given day, I can’t possibly be the grossest guy to have hit on a girl I’m interested in, so why not walk around flashing my genitals and winking obnoxiously? At least I’m not eighty. Getting a blowjob is really easy. And it was damn good, too. What? Can you blame me? It’s all just pleasure, baby.


Matt Houghton, Torie Leigh, SPLOOGED

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