Datingadvice.com asked me to write a piece for them.
I wanted to talk about Grindr and Gay Dating.
I’ll post more about this in a few days, or you can click the link above.
I think we could all relax a little bit about Grindr. It’s just social networking.
I have met really great friends and lovers on social media.
Calm down a little, fags.
Winky-smile emoticon.
Him: So tell me a little about yourself?
Me: What do you want to know?
Him: Well, why do you meet people online who are clearly lying about their age?
Me: Well. I write about it. I had a string of painful, awkward dates about a year and a half ago, and I started writing about it. People starting reading. Now, when I come across someone online who seems angry, self important, or blatantly deceptive -no offense…
Him: None taken…
Me: Instead of ignoring or blocking those people, I go out with them and write about my experiences with them.
Him: I’m not sure I like that.
Me: I’m not sure I asked for your approval.
Him: That’s why. That’s why I don’t like it.
Me: What do you mean?
Him: You’re being glib. Sarcastic.
Me: Do you think?
Him: I do. I think it’s a real problem with your generation. You roll your eyes at everything and you’re terrified of any sort of genuine human interaction.
Me: Doesn’t this particular interaction – me sitting with you on this park bench – prove your theory wrong? Isn’t this a genuine human interaction?
Him: Well it would be, except you have the ulterior motive of wanting material for your blog.
Me: And you have the ulterior motive of wanting to sleep with me.
Him: No I don’t.
Me: Come home with me and give me a blowjob.
Him: Okay.
Me: SEE!
Him: Okay fine, I concede that you’re right about that. But where did you meet me?
Me: On Grindr.
Him: Exactly! A site for guys to meet each other because they want to hook up…
Me: So?
Him: So – who’s worse? Me, the horny, dishonest old man?? Or you, the good-looking young liar?
Me: Jeez, Old Faggot – can’t we BOTH be awful people?
Him: HAHA. We can…
Me: And thanks for the compliments. You’re a handsome guy yourself.
Him: Thanks, can I put my hand in your lap?
Me: Twenty years ago you can.
Him: What an asshole.
(pause)
Him: So why?
Me: Why what?
Him: Why put yourself in these awful situations? What do you gain from it?
Me: I don’t know. I like writing about things that are true…
Him: Don’t give me that horseshit. You’re being sarcastic.
Me: I’m not! I’m just saying it sarcastically!
(pause)
Him: So you started writing why?
Me: To process stuff. I was in a long relationship that ended. About a year went by with me being single. Then I started dating again. People were awful. Defensive. Petty. Small. I wanted to write about it. Kept me from getting depressed. After a while though, I started seeking out people because they seemed a little off. It got alienating. I don’t know exactly why I’ve kept doing it. I’m compelled to, somehow.
Him: Ugh.
Me: What?
Him: Just… Your generation.
Me: What?
Him: You guys all feel shy, and alienated, and lonely, and yet you’re so very hyper-connected. It’s narcissistic. Everyone is squawking constantly, but nobody is listening. Nobody cares. And worse – you don’t just urgently need to communicate your awkwardness or your ironic detachment – you guys fetishize it.
Me: I’m not sure I’d go that far.
Him: I would! What is an American Apparel ad, if not fetishizing awkwardness?
Me: Uh… It’s…
Him: Or what about those movies by P.T. Anderson?
Me: … Boogie Nights?
Him: No, that’s a great film. I mean like Rushmore and the other one…
Me: Royal Tenenbaums?
Him: Ugh. Awful. So coy, and precious, and ironic…
Me: So you mean Wes Anderson.
Him: I guess. He’s all the things about your generation I don’t understand. He fetishizes that alienation you were talking about. He urges the rest of you to indulge in this glorification of the uncomfortable. Life doesn’t have to be so labored and ungraceful, you know. We used to just call it ‘going on a bad date,’ and it happened every once in a while, but we didn’t react by being glib or sarcastic on the next date. That was considered rude. We certainly didn’t write about it for the world to read.
Me: Okay fine. I get it. You don’t approve.
Him: I don’t.
Me: Well then don’t read.
Him: I certainly won’t.
(pause)
Me: You know. You spent a lot of time calling me indelicate. But that doesn’t explain why you think I’m interesting enough to sit here and waste the afternoon with. Stop looking at my dick. It’s nothing special.
Him: It looks pretty nice, through your pants.
Me: Thanks Old Faggot.
Him: Can I ask you one more question?
Me: Sure. But you have to wait until Part Three.
Him: Why?
Me: I rarely blog more than 800 words.
Him: Why?
Me: It’s self indulgent, Jerk.
I keep hearing people talk about how we’re living in a ‘post racial’ society. That racism somehow isn’t relevant to the younger generations. Man, I wish that was true. Wouldn’t that be great?
Here’s some snippets from a recent conversation I had on Grindr.
The guy who was chatting with me is significantly younger than me.
I think it’s safe to say this guy isn’t living in a “post racial” America.
Maybe it’s wishful thinking. It’s an attractive idea: a society where race no longer matters to anyone in any way, shape or form.
A friend of mine recently pointed something out. Whenever you hear people talking about ‘post racial’ America, it’s almost always a white person. You don’t hear a lot of people of color going around giving lip service to that idea.
I wanted to hear more of this guys crazy, awful opinions. I wanted to write about him here, and start some sort of dialogue about race and the gay community.
I think he got wise to me, though. He was less enthusiastic about meeting me the next day. Maybe he was embarrassed about the idiotic things he’d said via Grindr. Or, maybe he checked out my blog from my profile, and realized that if he met me, I’d do my best to make him look like a Jerk.
It wouldn’t have been difficult. He did a good job of making himself a Jerk.
Hey,
So, I was wondering if you know – how do you know when a guy wants you to stay?
A week ago I went into the city to hang out with this guy. He was really cute and nice, with a sexy Spanish accent. I get to his place and we talk for a while and we seem to be hitting it off. We then move it to the bedroom and do the dirty – and it was fun. Then we take a shower and jump back into bed and watch tv. This is where the awkward part comes – we watch a movie and then another tv show and then he gets hungry and makes a salad and opens a bottle of wine.
You think “this all sounds great,” but the whole time I’m wondering when I should leave. The stupid guy that I am, I don’t leave after the food and stay to watch more tv. By now it’s 12:30 and he’s getting tired and I have no clue if he wants me to stay the night or not. I give him a back rub.
Then he says, “I’m assuming you want to sleep over.”
I respond, “Only if you want me to.” He gets really silent. Then I ask him again and he responds, not really – he has to wake up early. I knew that I had over-stayed my welcome and to make matters worse the area he lived in had no taxis around. Finally he called me a taxi, but I wound up missing my last train home and wound up walking around the freezing cold in Manhattan for 7 hours.
What should I do to avoid this in the future?
Thank you, Jerk
N.
Dear N.,
Thanks for your letter. You sound like maybe you’re new to online hook-ups. There’s a certain amount of etiquette involved, but that etiquette is, unfortunately, different for every person. As a general rule of thumb, if it’s a hook-up and not a date then you should fully expect to leave shortly after the sex happens.
This is not to excuse any amount of poor behavior on the part of your Spanish accented friend. Unfortunately, guys have a way of being super charming with a new conquest right up until the point of orgasm. After the deed is done, however, reality comes crashing back in and you’re left there in your own home with a relative stranger that seems to want to eat all your salad and watch West Wing re-runs until 2 in the morning.
Next time, explain your situation before you go over to the guy’s house. Let him know you live outside the city, and if he wants you to come over he’ll have to let you stay the night. If he says no, then at least you know what you’re dealing with -a guy who wants to bone you and say goodbye shortly afterward.
If I may say so – it does sound like you might be looking for a date, instead of a hook-up. In which case, I think you’d be far better off using websites like OkCupid rather than Craigslist or Grindr. Just a thought.
Be honest about your intentions and you can’t go wrong.
Jerk.
P.S. Next time you’re walking around freezing in Manhattan, go to Penn Station. It’s warm in there and you can pretend you’re waiting for a train to leave.
baking photos by kristen yoonsoo kim
Him: Hey. Nice to meet you. I’m Y.
Me: Nice to meet you too, Y, I’m Michael.
Him: It’s so funny. I was just thinking about you, the other day.
Me: Oh, is that so? Why?
Him: This is so weird. I’ve just met you, but I feel a sort of connection between us. Something cosmic, maybe.
Me: Haha… please sit down. Take your coat off. Would you like a drink? I think I have some Xmas whiskey around here somewhere…
Him: Of course. I’ll have some whiskey.
Me: What would you like me to mix it with? I have ice, and ice.
Him: What?
Me: It’s a joke. I don’t have any mixers.
Him: Ice will be fine.
Me: So, cosmic connection?
Him: Well, you said hi to me on Grindr…
Me: That’s true…
(sometimes i think cylons have invaded my grinder app)
Him: Which led me to your blog, which I spent the last three days reading.
Me: You what?
Him: I read the whole thing.
Me: Congrats, I haven’t even read the whole thing…
Him: Is that so?
Me: No. I’ve read it a few times…
(pause)
Me: What?? I’m self absorbed! Keep going…
Him: Anyway I was at a soba restaurant the other day, and I kept hearing them call out a name to someone in the kitchen. They kept yelling Kazu!
Me: Aw. My little brother, Kazu. I love that kid.
Him: Exactly. He looked so familiar, and I thought the coincidence was too strong, and I had to try to meet you.
Me: Well I hope you’re not too disappointed.
Him: No, not at all. When I hugged you hello, I noticed you have a nice smell.
Me: I… uh, what? I mean, thank you. Thank you. That’s very sweet of you to say. You’re a very cute boy yourself.
Him: I’m 32.
Me: I know, but you know what I mean. Can I sniff you?
Him: Sniff?
Me: You know, now that we’re keeping tabs.
Him: Okay.
(pause – I smell him.)
Me: You smell nice too.
Him: Thank you.
Me: Well I’m glad that’s out of the way. So you were talking about connections?
Him: Yeah. I do this thing. I have dreams sometimes. Sometimes they come true. Well, no, not exactly, but it’s something similar. Do you have time? Can I tell a story?
Me: Sure.
Him: A while back I had a dream. I dreamed about my 4th grade teacher. I hadn’t thought about him in a long time, but he was one of my better teachers and he was well liked by the class… Anyway, that’s pretty weird to just dream about your old teacher like that.
(grindr, that’s not what umbrellas are for…)
Anyway, in my dream he was dead. Everyone was sad that he was dead. Lots of students had gathered to celebrate him and commemorate his death. Well, I didn’t think much about the dream until a few months later when my grandfather in Tokyo had a stroke. I was supposed to go back and see him, but I had this feeling that everything with my grandfather would be all right. In any case, I wound up taking a flight back to Tokyo.
Me: Bye, bye – 1500 dollars.
Him: Right? And here’s the weird thing: my grandfather wound up being fine. BUT. While we were visiting him in the hospital, I found, just by chance that my 4th grade teacher was there, dying of cancer.
Me: Are you serious??
Him: Yes. I happened to walk by his room and notice his name on the door.
Me: That’s amazing.
Him: Yes, and I contacted a number of our classmates that I could find on Facebook, and we all went to visit him, and thank him for teaching us, and affecting our lives. And then he died, shortly after.
Me: Is that true?
Him: Absolutely.
Me: That’s a beautiful story. Hey…
Him: What?
Me: Thank you for telling me that. I’m glad you felt a connection with me. I’m glad that you’re here. And, know what?
Him: What?
Me: I think it was a very kind thing you did, organizing your classmates together to visit your teacher. I think that’s impressive.
Him: Oh… I just wanted him to see how much further down the line he had affected the world. I wanted him to know that he taught us well, and that we went out in the world and did well. It was important to me.
Me: Well thank you for telling me about that. I think that’s inspiring, somehow.
Him: Thank you.
(long pause)
Him: Can I smell you again?
(long pause)
Me: Yes, of course you can.
PIEFOLK 