EXPLICIT ESSAY: You've been warned
New Essay: The Grind(r)
Here is a little something I composed for a collection of essays I’m always editing and refining. If you enjoy a juicy, explicitly detailed account of queerness and sex, you’ll find this entertaining.
The Grind(r)
Eucalyptus vapors are billowing from the bathroom and the sun has been down for many hours. I jokingly call this hour of the night the “witching hour.” I believe there might be another definition for the phrase but what I mean is I’m quite horny. My nerves amplify and even when it’s warm in my apartment I experience chills and goosebumps. The distinct sound of the Grindr app is similar to a bird attempting to chirp whilst vomiting. Grindr for me has two modes, feast or famine. I’ve known when the weather is prime on the weekend the feast is almost guaranteed. I’ve studied my behavior while pursuing men for sex. I see how I transform and almost prefer the hunt rather than the act itself. Sex is fun, sure, but 90% of the time, it’s actually not great.
Grindr is an app of empty promises and failed sexual demands. “I want you to cum first,” one man says, an hour later and he’s finished before me. “I’m an oral expert,” is said by some as a last chance effort to keep the target engaged. Sometimes you follow through because it's been a famine lately and then you realize they’re not great at oral at all. Then you wonder about their self-awarded accolade. I hear the chirping vomit alert. “I’m around the corner,” the message reads. I take a small whiff of a bottle of RUSH. Blood rushes to my face giving me a false sense of warmth. I’m now committed to following through. I live on the first floor and the curtains hang the full length of the windows facing the street. It’s thrilling to peer from behind the curtains just enough to see a narrowed spot of where I can get a view of the man I’ve been messaging. The secrecy and hiding is getting old, but I love it. I am high on this ponzi scheme I’ve been running for a while. Sometimes I deliver the return on investment and other times I drop the ball and never answer the door.
Straight people won’t outright admit it, but there is a noticeable amount of jealousy that gay men have perfected the hookup app. If heterosexuals spent as much time as gay men do on the app they would realize it's a flawed platform just like the rest. Grindr’s grid is often a sea of torsos with the heads cut off. Since I was young my parents observed my body and commented on every noticeable size increase. When I open Grindr, the last thing I’ll do is post a shirtless picture. It’s funny though, the fit pics rarely showcase the users current figure. Pushy gay men demand a current picture, shirtless of course, because they’ve been burned before. Sometimes you’re asked in conversation to send a picture of yourself currently, even if it’s while you’re in bed thumbing away on the screen. I’ve noticed not all sculpted torsos match handsome faces. A lot of handsome faces aren’t attached to aspirational frames. When I decide to follow through and meet someone, I am often catfished. It’s not the dramatic MTV Catfish but the user's photos were often from 5-10 years ago. Every aspect of Grindr feels like a full-time hustle. You have to master the language, understand the codes, be sexually compliant and “open.” The price I pay to use the app is my confidence.
I have taken many long bouts away from Grindr as a way to heal myself from the shame around hooking up. I experienced shame because I desired partnership. The fast fuck nature of Grindr contorts my own ideas about who I am and where my values exist. I call friends and promote my motivation to date and seconds after hanging up Grindr is open and I’m seeking the nearest hard-on. Dating is painful in the way people get their wisdom teeth removed. Once the hard part is over, for me, there is an added recovery period to feel like myself again.
Grindr has an improvisational aspect built in, you can be anyone or any type. In conversation with another man, we discuss what we like, what we don’t like, what turns us on and how we best experience pleasure. The good matches are electric and lead to tender moments where I sense good sex and intimacy can exist. Bad matches diminish any work I’ve done to have a positive self-image leading to potential harm. I know someone who met their boyfriend on Grindr, in fact, I hear stories of relationships that started as a hookup and blossomed into shacking up. At my core, I don’t know if any of this is for me. Sex, relationships, intimacy with men, it’s all work that I really don’t want to do. My brain will sabotage me on bad days questioning my worth. Where did this worthiness wound come from? On good days, my brain illuminates when I’m in my values. The internal tug of war I experience is maddening. Can’t I blame it all on Grindr?
The years before Grindr were blissfully uncertain. I would attempt to corral a group of people to go out dancing, or drinking, and suggest going to a gay bar/club. In college there was only one place to go and that was PrimeTime (RIP). I danced as a gogo dancer for about two nights. I strapped on a fake D&G belt and sold overpriced shots in test tubes that were basically sugar water. The cage was where you wanted to be seen. The pulses vibrating off the walls to “As The Rush Comes,” by Motorcycle plays. My friend Jay was permanently in the cage. He had one hand fixed on a pipe supporting his thin frame as he dangled and swayed. On certain nights, exquisite bodies were displayed exclusively in the cage, true gogo dancers. They were paid by the hour. The owner of PrimeTime didn’t care much for me. One night I saw the gogo dancers taking the cage and in between selling test tubes I thought I should join them. The owner waved what looked like a taser telling me to get down. He yanked me over to coat check and told me that my job was selling shots, not dancing. I came to my own conclusion that I wasn't attractive enough to get paid to dance.
Before Grindr there was Adam4Adam. I found out about it when I heard a couple of gay men discussing ways they get their needs met with sex by logging on to the website. Adam4Adam’s website was never updated. It used the same technology and delivered a message with a five-ten minute delay. When I was living in Astoria, Queens I used Adam4Adam a lot. Going out and meeting men organically was costly, timely and rarely fruitful. I was trading in the smoke and mirrors for right here, right now. I have a chronic illness in that I rarely sleep with men I find attractive. In lieu of attraction, I was looking for sexual expertise. Kissing and flirting weren’t cutting it anymore and I wanted men that could fuck. I remember the first man I broke ground with was someone I was edging for two months. His name was Alastair and he was Polyamorous. I had no idea what that meant at the time, but he was into everything. When I finally mustered up the courage to head to his apartment, it was dingy, lit only by the TV. He was warm, welcoming and fell into the typical older man trap of offering life advice before sticking it in me. “You should ________” now let me fuck you. I walked away ashamed after every encounter I had online with a man, yet it was exhilarating working up the strength to meet these men. The person I desired to be was one of relationship material and I was going behind my back only seeking sex. I wish I could say that I entered therapy and the behavior course corrected, but when I got my first therapist it brought up mixed feelings.
Gestalt is a therapy modality I’d never heard of and to my 23 year old brain, “try anything at least once.” My first session with the gestalt therapist was explaining how it all works and providing a framework for our sessions. Gestalt focuses on self-acceptance and self-awareness as keys to personal growth. This was everything I wanted from therapy, a soft couch, dim lighting, a window slightly open allowing a faint breeze and someone who spoke softly. Our first sessions covered many topics and I felt ready for change. I was the thinnest I had been in a while. My diet consisted of eating raw vegan food coupled with an obsession over the appearance of my body. I would get haircuts every two weeks to maintain a coiffed lacquer. I desired complete control even over what I wanted, arresting myself from pleasure. I mentioned to the therapist how I hooked up with a man who went into the kitchen to grab a pint of ice cream and proceeded to eat ice cream in bed post coitus. I found the behavior repulsive because I was detached from my body experiencing my own negative self-image. The therapist assured me there is a world where you can have your cake and eat it too. To me, this felt like a violation. I was trying to achieve personal perfection. I was making good money, I had a car, I was consuming healthy foods and I was fulfilled in my career. My outlook was tunnel vision. I wanted more but not in a way that was honoring me.
As skinny and healthy as I looked, my brain was rotting. I was tormenting myself with a high level of shame around pleasure. I lusted for men with endowment. When I satiated my cravings, I wanted to punish myself for acting on my desires. Grindr has been the app that frustrates me the most. The ease it provides moves the needle for sex. After meeting a man for casual sex I would feel bad about my body and about my dreams that I started to convince myself that I was wasting away. I would never want to be in a relationship with the men I was having sex with. The biggest conundrum for me was trying to understand why I was having sex with men I would never want to date, yet the men I wanted to date weren’t available or interested at all.
I wish I could provide some relief that things got better around this time, but this cycle works in an insidious manner. Living in Astoria, I would have an older Dominican man come over and I would usher him into my room early in the morning before my roommate was awake. He would take both of my legs and push them towards my chest so I was on my back, ass up. With little foreplay he would hurry himself along and I would beg for his validation that he liked his experience with me. “You like it?,” I would ask often. Based on his consistent erection I did not have enough confidence to realize an erect penis is affirming.
I arrived in Northern California and had a new personality. I joined OkCupid and went on a date with a man I was actually attracted to and even played around. Ghosting was beginning to trend at the time and I experienced it hard. I took it personally and turned from OkCupid to Grindr. There was one Cal student that would give me oral sex in their car on a poorly lit street at night. They were “DL” (down low), a term some believe to be problematic. I didn’t care, sex was sex. Late at night I would chat with men continuously vetting them all against each other privately trying to source the best experience possible for what I wanted to have. I found ghosting, especially when you haven’t met at all, common on Grindr.
When I was living in Napa it was a gay desert. On Grindr there were many men who weren’t “out.” I was asked quite a bit if I participated in “PNP” during sex. The acronym is short for “party and play,” a heightened sexual experience adding methamphetamine to the mix. I centered a lot of my questions to potential sexual interests around this question. Anyone who dabbled, I was not interested. However, when the loneliness and despair crept in I could feel my boundaries becoming shaky. There were a couple of sexual partners that had done it before and typically these men were hard to arouse without the substance. When I lived in Los Angeles I invited someone over who was addicted to meth and right before we disrobed he brought out a pipe and insisted on smoking before we got to it. I freaked out and asked him to leave after telling him I would be okay with it in our chat. As horny as I can be, fear is a leading turn off.
Cockrings are nasty little tourniquets for prolonged hard-ons. I used to struggle when I’d see a man screwing a tight silicone ring around his penis and testicles. It made me feel less sexy. I know now it has nothing to do with me, but my pride was stored in the illusion I could make any man rock hard. I used to think amyl nitrate (poppers) was a turn off. A man sniffing a bottle in between thrusts was distracting to the moment. It wasn’t until my thirties did I realize the short euphoria and lightheadedness you experience from poppers is kind of fun. In my pursuit of men with endowment, I have come to love poppers for keeping me “open.” The biggest turnoff of all is unwashed genitals. Full-on natural scents are admittedly not my thing (a morning dew or original scent emerging from physical labor is different). A few times when oral sex was on the menu I would pull down the underwear and receive what I consider to be a warning smell. The pheromones wafting up from sweaty genitals actually gives me nausea. It’s interesting though, a turn on for some men is when you “gag” on their cock. I am not orally gifted in a way I can take the full length without a visceral response, but I gag sometimes just from the smell. The biggest turn off of all is force. Someone overtly asserting their will above your comfort is repulsive behavior. A hand on the back of your head during oral sex is okay. When muscle is applied insinuating your oral talent isn’t enough, it depletes any form of autonomy when they turn your mouth into a human flesh light.
I shutter at the idea of revealing what turns me on because I’d like to think of myself as open and “down for anything.” It’s misnamed when people refer to their sexual desires as, “Vanilla.” Vanilla is a crucial flavor and perfectly balanced. It’s the gold standard for all flavors. One might argue that all other flavors are attempting to reach vanilla status. I get good chills when men make quality eye contact. Some gay men are stellar at this seemingly lost art of eye contact. The undivided attention packed into good eye contact makes you feel like you’re the only girl in the world. Although, I have a hard time knowing when men are being flirtatious or sincere.
Endowment is one of my biggest turn ons (no pun intended). I have a running joke with my friends that my last hookup’s penis was so large it had its own pulse. Its energy has the potential to upend your whole life and put it on a different track. Allow me to be specific here, it’s not just a penis with length, it's really about girth. I have large hands that need something to grip. I’ve enjoyed numerous sizes though and a big one knows how in demand it is.
I’m turned on by the energy of checking in. Validation and status updates are everything for me. I don’t want to walk away from any hookup wondering if the person actually enjoyed themselves. Not to mention, I too desire to let you know it feels good. However, sex is becoming far less interesting. Give me a connection, please. Deep down, when the dick is gone, I yearn for partnership and a romantic connection Grindr may never be able to help me with.
I’ve encountered several STD’s/STI’s from my Grindr acquaintances. A guy once told me that he doesn’t meet anyone past 2AM because he’s convinced that nothing good (sexually) happens after 2AM. He’s kind of right. I was driving back to Napa one night after hanging out in San Francisco. I turned on Grindr hoping that my grid would give me a new face/torso that I haven’t seen before. Sure enough the vomiting bird noise sounded and I drove to a condominium in Pinole. I crept in quietly as his family members were asleep. I found him ass up in bed waiting for me to slide right in. There was no condom, there was just skin to skin. Two weeks later I felt it. The drippy discharge of syphilis had made its presence known. I was ashamed, beating myself up for doing something so dirty, so nasty.
It took years of friendship and therapy to heal my negative self talk around the safety and health I lacked with hooking up. I used to blame Grindr for my problems. There would be long breaks away from the app I thought I needed and hopefully, magically one day I would never return. I come crawling back because I love having sex with men. Only ten percent of the time is it actually memorable or fun, which I’m okay with. I don’t feel I’m trying to fill a void anymore. I have sex supplementally now, almost just a natural response to being horny. I understand the role that Grindr plays in the larger landscape of being gay in the modern times. The app is a connector of sorts that a lot of straight people still envy. Grindr was the model for hooking up and has its own twisted way of being the gold standard. I applaud the app creators for giving gay men what they want. Internally, I desire a new path forward as my relationship with Grindr changes.
Dating, sex, casual friendships, intimate relationships, close friends, best friends, open relationships are all their own economies now. It feels like a job to maintain equilibrium with any of the aforementioned categories. Admittedly, I cannot keep up. When things no longer feel easy and lighthearted I want nothing to do with it. My time on Grindr is ten minutes tops. If nothing is biting, then I’m moving on. I asked myself, “Why is it that the relationships I love and respect the most are the easiest to have?” The friends in my life take my breath away. They’re everything to me, so much so I respect their time and space. I love them close and afar. In my heart, I love them so intensely I let them go.
I don’t covet them. I refuse to smother them. I was watching Brené Brown on Max during her book tour for, “Atlas of the Heart.” She said something so radical, I rewound the clip and watched it several times. She said, “if you love someone, let them go.” The expression seared my brain when it clicked. Internally a heavy gold clad gate opened up within. I now know the expression is a barometer for knowing who I truly love and who isn’t important to me. Any relationship of meaning I would eventually have to let go of. The quote sizzled and penetrated deeper than any other word of conventional wisdom I’ve heard to date.
During COVID I would take long walks in the silence of the Napa Valley vineyards. The light thrusts of breeze swayed the leaves ever so tenderly. On my walks I could finally hear nature. The trees were conversing, the grass was sprouting, everything was vivid. As my head was tilted towards the sky an older tree with a wide canopy danced in the most elegant way. Something snapped, I got it. When I care for and love someone with inexplicable meaning, I know I must let them go. Holding on is the antithesis of true love. When I’m no longer here, or when my friends have left the earth, the emotion and feeling of knowing them, of having the chance to see them as they lived is a gift of the divine. I don’t know if I will ever experience romantic love. That might never be in the cards for me and that's okay. What I have now, the beauty and the memories I’ve released. Over in the other room the vomiting bird noise sound diverts my attention. I’m going to ignore the phone today and take a walk instead.