How many of us have found ourselves thrust into the awkward position of having to explain what Grindr is to a straight friend? Recently this happened to me. So to save myself from any future horror, I’ve penned an introduction of sorts.
Around a month ago I decided to just stop dating. I had reached the decision that it was nothing more than cluster f*ck of emotions and hormones and feelings and involved way too many thoughts about your appearance and the length of your pubic hair. So, I was taking myself out of the game.
Then I got lonely. Or horny. Probably both actually.
Eventually I caved and enlisted the help of an old app I’d promised to never return to. I am of course referring to the festering skid-mark on the underpants of the digital dating world; an app that’s more commonly used as a dick-pic dispensary and is the gay guy’s equivalent of a Pokédex.
Armed with the same brand of scepticism it left me with last time I deleted it, I returned to the App Store and downloaded Grindr. RIP my dignity.
A few days later I was shamelessly scrolling through profiles in a half-empty Starbucks. After the third ‘chirp’ (the sound Grindr uses to announce a new message) my straight friend raised her head to ask what I was doing – I’m losing the will to live, Charlotte. That’s what.
I tried to steer the conversation down a less sordid avenue, but curiosity got the better of her. Fast-forward twenty minutes and I’ve traumatised my friend with Grindr horror stories (complete with visual aids) and probably set gay rights back around ten years.
Explaining what Grindr is, and how it works, was about as fun as swallowing a matchbox full of coffee granules, then somehow regurgitating it into my mouth. In order to never have to go through that ordeal again, I decided to write this introduction: Grindr: a guide for your straight friends.
If you have never used Grindr before, or don’t associate with a homosexual that does, then I suggest closing this tab; it isn’t for people with your level of self-respect. If you decide to keep reading, then allow me to illuminate your ignorance by sharing with you a typical Grindr experience.
Grindr has somehow earned itself the mantle of ‘dating app’, which is a formidable achievement. Especially considering it’s not really a conventional dating app at all, more a big online bin full of blank profiles and the occasional weird-shaped penis to lighten the mood.
You sign in to find that half of the users look like a rejected prop from a Ghostbusters movie and the other half are shrouded in mystery as they apparently don’t have a face.
Within 0.7 seconds of opening the app, the first dick pic will flop into your inbox. There it is staring at you, looking like a chubby, throbbing thumb after a brutal hammer smashing.
Side note: Guys, nothing makes me want to pluck out my own eyes more than receiving a dick pic from an anonymous stranger. It’s essentially the equivalent of a cat bringing you a dead bird as a present. Stop it.
The more you use the app, the more you’ll wonder what Grindr depletes more: Your phone’s battery, or your soul. Yet as heinous and unholy as Grindr is, there’s no shortage of characters on it that’s for sure.
Here are the type of guys you may encounter whilst on Grindr:
There’s that one guy who (no matter how many times you block him) keeps coming back like a monster in a movie, or an unpaid bill, or casual racism.
Amongst a sea of ominous, faceless profiles, a user may well pop up and offer you money for sex in a way that implies it’s a term of endearment – which, by the way, it’s not.
There’s also the guy who opens the conversation with a rudimentary greeting, swiftly followed by a dick pic and an intimate shot of his colon. Then, when you don’t reply, he kicks off.
Not to mention the guy who hounds you so incessantly for nudes that you consider going into Witness Protection just to get away from them. And even if you did, the other guy you blocked earlier would probably still find you and pop up AGAIN.
And of course we’ve all encountered that one guy who (without prompt) shares, in explicit detail, the sexual acts he’d like to do with you.
There may be plenty of people on Grindr, but there isn’t much to choose from. The app isn’t encoded with love, so if you’re looking for good-boy chivalry and harmless comments, then advise your straight friend not to recommend it to other gays in their life.
There you have it, a quick guide to Grindr for your straight friends.
NOTE: I have since deleted the app as it made absolutely no difference to the trajectory of my love life.
What is your worst Grindr experience? Any funny stories? Share them with us on Twitter @GayBoyBible