Online Dating - All Downhill from the Sign-Up?

by John Daniel

So I bought a new smartphone last week. I’ve been limiting my smartphone use lately because they’re so addictive and isolating, but now that I’ve had the chance to play with my new toy for a few days, I have to admit I’m smitten by the improved technology, and the phone’s fit and finish is just beautiful: I can’t stop caressing the damn thing.

What can I say? Smeagol is pleased. Very pleased.

Anyway, as I was drifting off to sleep the other night, a stunning idea suddenly hit me like a ton of rainbow-colored bricks:

“I’m gonna give Grindr a try!” I thought as I anxiously groped for my phone.

Heart racing and temples pounding, I sat at the edge of my bed and mercilessly poked and prodded my little precious until it led me to the fabled site. Moments later, my room was bathed in a lurid, orange glow.

I was in.

Although middle-aged, I felt like a kid again, having stepped into a wondrous new world; but unfortunately I couldn’t proceed without first suffering through a mind-numbingly long list of terms and conditions:

“Will you allow us to use your location?”

“I accept.”

“Will you allow us to share your email address with other advertisers?”

“I accept.”

“Can we distract you from any and all other truly meaningful, life-enhancing activities, 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, and 365 day per year?

“I accept.”

When it finally came time to upload a pic, my heart momentarily sunk once again when the following warning appeared:

“ABSOLUTELY NO PREHISTORIC IMAGES ALLOWED.”

“How ageist!” I thought, “that can’t be right.” But then I fetched my reading glasses:

“ABSOLUTELY NO PORNOGRAPHIC IMAGES ALLOWED.”

Ah, now the message made sense, but it got me thinking: I wanted to upload a picture that was sharp and clear, but just a touch flattering as well. Something detailed, but not too detailed; vague but not too vague…you know, a happy compromise between Lindsey Lohan’s mugshot and the Shroud of Turin.

In the end, I settled on a torso shot. While the Grindr gods were reviewing my submission, I perused a few profiles to pass the time. I was surprised to see that people’s desires (and delusions) hadn’t changed much since the ye olden days when we posted ads in the back pages of gay newspapers and exchanged Polaroids via snail mail.

The guy in closest proximity to me described himself as a “100% True Top,” though he occasionally made exceptions for 110% True Tops. An 18yo about three miles away sent me his Amazon wishlist. Whatever for?

What really blew my mind was the sheer number of Gay and Bisexual men who lived around me. I’m in a workingclass, blue collar neighborhood, far, far away from the gay bars, trendy shops and hip restaurants downtown. If someone had asked me to guess how many gays lived in my neighborhood, I would have estimated about 5 to 10 people.

It turns out that there are around 40 to 50. Who knew? My low estimate was likely influenced by the fact that I came of age in the late 70’s, when most LGBT kids grew up feeling isolated and alone.

I doubt I’ll ever meet most of the people behind the smiling faces staring up at me from my smartphone, but it’s comforting to know that I have so many Gay and Bisexual brothers surrounding me; and I’m sure that the younger generation of LGBT people in my neighborhood feel comforted as well.

That’s why we need to get out and stay visible. That’s why we need to continue to fight for our rights. That’s why we need to…OMG I just got my first IM!!