A few weeks ago, I used Grindr for the first time (and wrote about it here >>), that terrifying post-apocalyptic Interzone where only the most six-packed-est survive. Like Mad Max Beyond the Thunderdome if every character in it had Tina Turner’s character trapped within them.
Since that first day on the dating app, things have gone pretty much as normal, with more dicks than a convention of Richards and the same barrage of badly spelled, distracted and boring men, with the occasional gleam of a nice guy who’s either lost on the way to OKCupid or looking for a rebound after a guy has broken his little nice guy heart. Surprisingly and disappointingly for a gay app, the whole process is very masculine, all ‘how you doing buddy’ or ‘do you want to suck me off, mate’, like we’re on a sexy football terrace.
As you can see, I was not really enjoying the app until a user I was talking to gave me a salient piece of advice that every nervous Grindr user should take heed of: go on it drunk. So, being the dedicated journalist that I am, what choice did I have but to get ratted and flirt indiscriminately with men? Prosecco in tow, I got my drink on and turned the app on.
Suddenly the whole thing seemed to make sense to me. No, all of the messages I received weren’t badly spelled because of falling literacy levels, it was because everyone on here is totally bolloxed! No, all of the photos I received weren’t blurry because the blur hid their many flaws, it was because everyone’s arse-over-tit drunk! …Well, and because of the hiding the flaws. It makes sense. I had been amazed at how unselfconsciously forward everyone managed to be on here, especially when I lacked that confidence myself, but they were using Dutch courage on an industrial scale.
The suggestive messages and awkwardly non-sequiturs I had found so weird before I was now reeling off left, right and centre, some because I thought the guys were cute, but mostly because it was fun, I felt sexy and I liked the attention it brought to me. For a brief moment, I saw why this became an addiction for so many, as the instant gratification you got when you realise someone fancies you got magnified multiple times, with new messages popping up every few minutes.
However, if everyone was as drunk as I was on there, it just couldn’t call itself a hook up app. When someone did eventually ask if I wanted to meet up for ‘fun’*, I found that I was so drunk that the prospect of walking to a strangers house just did not appeal in any way. So either no one is ever having sex on Grindr (difficult to believe), or some people’s normal state of being is like me when I’m almost recklessly off my face…it’s a dark world.
* for people not familiar with Grindr, fun definitely doesn’t mean actual fun, like going bowling or to a cocktail party it just means boning. Why ‘fun’ is the euphemism of choice I don’t know, because it’s a weird choice. Who has finished sex and thought to themselves ‘well that was fun’. Sometimes amazing, sometimes intense, sometimes ill-advised, but never fun.**
**These are the sort of statements that get people to stop talking to you on Grindr
Profile of the Week
During my time on Grindr preparing for this blog and trying to find love and meaning in a cold, hostile town (as any film voiceover of my life would go), I see loads of truly awful profiles, and some truly inspiring ones. This week’s profile of the week is the former, as a guy uses a convoluted logic Escher would be proud of to prove to himself that he’s not gay despite looking for blowjobs from men. And if you’ve seen something truly terrible on a dating app, let us know in the comments and we will feature it next week.