Lessons to learn when a Grindr hookup doesn't go exactly to plan...
A story about how Grindr hookups don't always go to plan, and how to deal with it when it happens. Also, exciting breakfast food and the phrase "two humps and a shudder".
Stories of queer life and even queer-er sex.
Always interesting, definitely amusing, Probably True - the repeatedly-award-winning, slightly filthy storytelling project tackling LGBTQ issues in a fun and engaging way.
Much like its creator, it is a smutty-but-charming collection of personal misadventures working to make the world a better place, one silly, sexy story at a time.
See acast.com/privacy for privacy and opt-out information.
It only went and happened again, didn’t it? I’m going to walk you through this one, lovely listener, because what’s the point in my humiliation if I can’t talk about it to strangers?
So! I was sitting in one of those wanky cafes, having my breakfast, which by law was smashed avocado on toast. Fuck knows why it has to be ‘smashed’. Sliced would be fine. When I make it at home, it’s not even sliced, just “it got a bit goopy as I was getting it out of the skin, but I got most of it on the plate, now shut up and eat it” avocado. On toast. I guess they have to put an exciting word in there because avocado is such a bland fruit in the first place. You don’t do that for all the other stuff on your plate: “Yes, could I please have smashed avocado on some incinerated toast, with pulverised bacon and some annihilated beans. Oh, and a cup of detonated tea with two grenades of sugar. Thanks.” Actually, I would never order that. Mostly because I automatically consider anyone who takes two sugars in their tea to be somehow below me. Like, I won’t judge you on your appearance or your ethnicity or your politics or anything like that, but if you take two sugars in your tea, something inside me just snaps and I assume you’re some kind of sub-human. No idea where that comes from, to be honest.
Anyway. What the hairy-arsed fuck was I talking about?
Oh, yeah. I was having breakfast. Christ, I’m off to a good start. Anyway. While I was sat there, waiting for my exciting food to arrive, I decided to announce my presence on the Grindr. This wasn’t a neighbourhood I usually spent much time in, so I thought it might be nice to see a few new faces, or at least new nipples. Since pretty much everyone around there was posting headless photos of their toned torsos. One particularly pert pair of man-tits messaged me pretty much immediately, and we got talking. We swapped a few more pics and his face was as handsome as the rest of him, which was nice. He was all toned and pert and gorgeous. Can’t remember his name, but since he was Australian it was probably Mitch. Not a spare ounce on him, arms, abs, pecs… Lovely. So I was a little surprised when he invited me round for some sexy fun. Now, to start with I thought this was a bit too good to be true: A spanking hottie into me, without me even having to dazzle him too much with my sparkling personality.
But as I caught myself thinking that, I stopped and said now, Scott, don’t be silly. You’re a very handsome and charming man with a perfectly acceptable penis; there’s no reason this sexy lump of muscle and Instagram filters wouldn’t want to get sexy with you. Now, wipe that bit of egg off your face and go rock his world for ten minutes with some of your least mediocre sex moves.
So, off I went. I was excited, and more than a little flattered. Actually, I was even kind of nervous. He was a real hottie and part of me was mildly worried I was going to get his clothes off, take one look at him and make a mess all over his duvet. And the wall. And possibly the curtains. Well, it had been a while.
Another part of me was also worried that he was going to turn out to be some scary old man using some random model’s photos to lure boys back to their flat in the hope that they won’t say no when they get there despite him being twice the age and three times the weight of the man he was sending them photos of.
Anyway. I got there. Knocked on his door. And there he was. This stunning, tanned, muscly Mitch. Wearing nothing but a pair of tiny shorts and a smile. He invited me in, got me a glass of water, and as he bent over to get the glass out of the cupboard I could see those little dimples at the base of his spine. You know, the really sexy top of bum dimples. And that’s when it happened.
No, I didn’t spaff my pants, if that’s what you’re thinking. He handed me the glass of water and said “So… Is it too late to change my mind?”
That’s the second time someone has invited me round then decided against getting sexy with me once they actually met me. I felt like saying something like “Actually, yes, it is too late. I’m here now, so find something to hold on to and let’s get this over with.” but instead, I kept my composure and said “Wow, that’s awkward. For you.” gave him a little wink and left. He’d blocked me before I got back home.
It would be easy at this point to go and cry to my friends Gordon and John (that’s Gordon’s gin and Papa John) and have a massive shame spiral about how unattractive I must be, how could I expect someone as hot as him to want to sex me anyway, he’s so out of my league, and on and on… And that’s all pointless. There’s no point trying to drown your sorrows, because those little fuckers can swim. And, more importantly, there are no leagues. There are no boundaries on who you can and can’t fancy or be fancied by. There’s just people. It’s a lot more about personality than it is about looks. Think about it - only super-shallow people would say something like “Ugh. I”m not going to date him - he’s well below me. I need someone much hotter than him, because look at me, I’m amazing.” No-one thinks like that. And anyone who does is definitely not the kind of person you want to be associating with. But, for some reason, that’s the sort of thing we project onto hot guys - we assume they think like that with absolutely no other justification than “If I looked like him…” which is stupid because all people are just people. We’re all insecure and unhappy with our bodies or something and putting someone on a pedestal just because they have 5% bodyfat is stupid. If you’re going to think like that, then every time someone you find attractive actually wants to meet up or go for a drink with you, you might as well just say “No, sorry, you’re obviously too attractive for me, and so I’m going to block you before this gets awkward.” Which, thinking about it, is true of this case, so maybe it was a bad example, but there are other hotties I”ve hooked up with who were really quite into me. Some of them even wanted to do it again, after having met me. So, y’know.
In fact, when I’ve asked my lovers what it is that they find so attractive in me, the most common response is “your confidence is really sexy” or something like that. And a lot of that confidence comes from guys like Mitch rejecting me. It might not seem like it, but he did me a favour.
For one thing, have you ever shagged someone who really isn’t into it, but is just going through the motions? It’s fucking harrowing. As much as it sucks to have someone you fancy say “I have made an error in inviting you over, please leave.”, it’s nothing compared to them sighing, taking their pants off and just lying there, waiting for you to be done. Eyes closed, arms limp… That’s only happened to me once, but after a couple of minutes of dead-eyed humping when I realised he didn’t want to be there, I just had to fake it. A couple of grunts and a bit of a shudder and the whole ordeal was over. For both of us. Although that guy then tried to sneak me out of the flat without his housemate seeing me, so I made a point of introducing myself to the guy. Fucked if I’m going to be someone’s shameful little secret. There’s a life tip: Don’t shag anyone you’d be ashamed to see leaving your room the next morning.
Apart from that grossness, getting turned down politely on occasion is a good thing - it builds character. I know that sounds like something old people say about military service, but in this case, it’s actually true.
It’s like the school that banned all valentine’s cards or whatever. Not because it’s mawkish and gross, but because they wanted to ‘spare the children the trauma of possible rejection’. And my first thought there is Oh, teacher. Who hurt you? The ‘trauma’ of rejection is part of life. It’s like trying to stop a child from touching a hot radiator - sooner or later it’s going to happen however hard you try to stop it, and they’ll learn an important lesson from it.
Think about it - knock-backs like Mitch or whoever are painful, but it’s not the end of the world. You didn’t die. All that happened is someone you fancied said “no, thanks.” That’s part of life. We use it to grow, just like every other experience. It makes us a more rounded person. Think of all the people who never hear ‘no’ in their lives - they’re spoilt, entitled shitbergs who need a good kicking. Once you get over the worst of the pain, and realise that it’s not you, it’s them, it is freeing - the worst has happened, and you’re still here. Great! Next time you won’t be so afraid because you know that’s it’s not the end of the world and you’ll be fine either way. And that’s where the confidence comes from that the next super-hot guy will find really sexy.
Also, if the guy is super-hot, make sure you screenshot all of his pics before you meet him. That way, if he blocks you, you can still go home and finish yourself off. And going home to finish myself off is usually how Grindr hookups end anyway.
That as probably true, the award-winning podcast series by me, the award-winning Scott Flashheart. If you enjoyed it, you can leave a review on iTunes, support the show on Patreon, and generally tell all your friends about it. If you didn’t enjoy it, you can tell me why in the Facebook Group, or on Twitter where I’m @Unlikelylad. Come at me, bro.