Unfortunately, This Isn’t The Scariest Thing I’ve Seen On Grindr
When Grindr first came out, it seemed like a perfectly great way for gays to network, socialize, and yes- put it in each other’s butts without the use of unnecessary things like names or phone numbers. I admit I tried it. I admit I wasted A LOT of time on it. I’m not going to say I never hop on anymore when I’m bored but I don’t like to cut into my Pinterest time too much. Why not, you ask? Because I don’t think it works.
Grindr is an amazing idea, and a great concept. It makes a lot of things easier, such as getting a blowie from a stranger in a city where you don’t live. But for some reason, the ease of use makes it harder to actually make a connection. I have probably met 3 guys from Grindr and each time was a fucking disaster. I’ll admit that some times it was that the guys looked like methed-out three toothed extras from Straw Dogs–but the bigger problem is that meeting online cuts out one major component out of the process of meeting someone:
FUCKING CHEMISTRY. Chemistry is without a doubt the most important piece of the puzzle when it comes to dating, cocking, sucking, or ram-rodding (I made that last one up but watch and see–it’ll become a thing). When you meet on a social networking site, you normally have a few opportunities to at least chat with a guy before you meet him. You can sort of gauge the chemistry there. Its not as good as meeting someone in person, but at least you aren’t shaking hands as someone shoves their finger in your butt. On Grindr there are only so many things you can say before you realize you are only 200 feet away and might as well meet in person. In other words, it makes it too easy.
I suppose that its all a matter of numbers. If I chatted with 10 people a day and met 5 of them, odds are at least one of them would be decently attractive. I don’t mean to be high and mighty about it because lets face it, we all have skeletons in the closet and all of mine have dicks – but I don’t have that much time on my hands and I’m not that easy.
Life is disappointing enough without constantly meeting guys with beer guts that smell like ash trays and talk like Samantha from Sex and the City. I would rather get my cockles the old fashioned way – by meeting strangers at bars and having drunken anonymous sex in the bathroom of Dairy Queen.