GRUMPY OLD BUGGER

Scott Aldred

They say you should never ask a lady her age, a gentleman his salary or gay guys how they met. We all know why. If we could have children with one another, by now there’d be a lot of funny looking babies being born. We’re fishing from a very shallow pool so it’s probably for the best we’re (largely) the fun uncle in the family. Everybody knows everybody… KNOWS everybody.

I think most gay guys didn’t get the ‘Don’t ask how they met’ memo. It’s a known phenomenon that new couples now decide on a meeting story before going public with the relationship. Largely as they know the second you let your guard down someone will pump you for the details.

On some of the more popular ‘gentlemen’s apps’ you see lines such as ‘I’ll say we met in IKEA’, or ‘Willing to lie about how we met’. They’re being honest. It wouldn’t have any meaning if it wasn’t an actual real life concern for some.

Admittedly, if you’re at a big family wedding and your favourite aunt comes over to meet your new squeeze and asks, chances are you don’t want to have to explain to her what a dark room is.

I prefer a story that’s a bit more over the top. Say you were hiking Machu Picchu for charity. Raising money for orphaned donkeys. Or working at a soup kitchen over Christmas. Something to simultaneously pull the wool over people’s eyes AND create the illusion I’m a decent human being. What can I say, I’m English, I need all the help I can get.

But some guys really want to know. Need to know. Generally single guys. Asked without a hint of malice, they think you have cracked the code. They too want a boyfriend. They have a very skewed view or memory of what having a boyfriend actually means. They think it means Sunday mornings in bed with the papers and a dog. They think it’s doing a boomerang on Instagram with you jumping off the back of a yacht. They think its wearing matching kilts at a friend’s wedding just to upstage the bride. They don’t realise all of those things are a front for arguments over whose turn it is to de-ice the car at 5am on a Monday morning or who’s left hair in the bath.

To them an argument means make up sex. (I don’t do make up sex. If

I’m in a mood with you there’s no way I’m giving you the pleasure, you can wait.)

“It’s not fair”, they cry on Facebook “I’ve not had a boyfriend for 3 years” before someone else pipes up ‘I’ve not had one for 10’ just to make them feel it’s even more hopeless. The someone else having a profile pic that looks like they’ve taken it in the back of a spoon. You know the type. They’re on every app going whilst simultaneously describing everyone on the apps as dirty scum – and they wonder why they’re single.

On online forums they ask ‘Does anyone know any decent gay apps? I’m sick of the guys on [insert name of every gay app here]’. They think a new one is the answer to their problems. That a new secret hidden pool of gay people lies tantalisingly just out of reach. They hear rumours of a hidden functionality on Tinder that’s invite only for the rich and famous (true apparently – but if you’re struggling with the average people on Tinder there’s no hope for you and you should walk round ringing a bell). They know they are ‘Quite shy at first but really chatty once you get to know me’, which is gay speak for ‘I’m socially awkward and you’ll put your back out carrying this conversation’.

However, all of this chatter stems from one central premise. That the idea of meeting someone online is somehow less real, less organic or meaningful than had you met ABSOLUTELY ANYWHERE ELSE. It’s true in the old days, (God it hurt writing that) guys would meet in a bar. If you saw someone you liked, you’d smile. Say hello. Buy them a drink. That puffing noise you hear is a million introverts breathing into a paper bag.

If you needed pluck up the courage to speak, you’d wait and plan your week around being in that bar at that exact same time. You didn’t exchange numbers; you didn’t have a number. You just hoped they’d show up again. It’s no wonder public toilets became so popular.

But now, you have the like of Grindr and Scruff. Before you get all high and mighty, there are pluses and minuses.

On the negative side they have made people as disposable as a cheap vape, and with slightly less sucking. Before social media, people used to have to do tangible good in a community before word of mouth got out about how decent a person they were. Now they just have to film themselves giving money to tramps. If you wondered if you looked nice, you’d wait for someone to say… ‘You look nice’. Now you just clean the skirting boards wearing a jockstrap and write #housework and the fire emojis flood in.

That instant dopamine hit is addictive. Soon you’re comparing likes and lifestyles. Before you know it, you’re filming yourself opening your eyes and getting out of bed like it’s the most normal thing in the world. Setting up your phone in the fridge to catch you opening the door to reach for the orange juice. Face it…you aren’t an influencer. You aren’t on a yacht. You’re on a glider going for a face to face interview over benefits sanctions. Wise up. (listen to me, adopting the lingo) than saying what you don’t want. You can talk, make the effort, ask questions…see the goods.

If you’re honest, or as honest as anyone can be when meeting someone new, you can make connections with people that you probably wouldn’t have looked twice at in the real world.

That is the biggest problem with online apps - the filters. Fortuitously hidden behind a paywall, you can weed out anyone that isn’t your type. The reality is, if you’re single and complaining about being single, you need pipe down about your ‘type’. You need to start looking at little deeper.

Be sociable, forget about a relationship. Meet people. If you both wanna hook up then go for it but make that a bonus not the objective. In talking to people you may not think of as your type, you may suddenly find yourself talking to someone that pushes buttons. Makes you think. See the world through fresh eyes.

So, I did…

We met in IKEA *cough

My own story…after two long term relationships, one with an ex-wife, one with an ex-boyfriend I found myself single at 47 for the first time since I was 15. After a couple of years of believing nobody would want me and throwing myself at anyone that so much as looked at me, I chilled a little. Decided I was no longer looking for a relationship. I started to enjoy the freedom that came with being single. I figured online sites and apps were a harmless diversion and a way to meet new people. Having taken my own advice, I answered a message online from a Belfast boy who said ‘I think you should get on a plane to Belfast’.

On the plus side, with social media you can set your stall out. Market yourself. You can say what it is you’re looking for. Always better