Tag Archives: dating

Grindrin’ and Growlrin’ Me Down

[In which I apparently date incorrectly]

My delete screen from Growlr.
My delete screen from Growlr.

I went and checked out a different bar in Columbus Thursday night. I didn’t bring my book into the bar. This was new territory, and I didn’t know if it would have a good place to flash the glittery raccoon. [No, this is not a euphemism. Click on a link once in a while, people.] Needless to say, I was bored almost immediately. So, out came the phone. Thank god for Instagram and the endless twiddle-worthiness of its filters, or I would’ve been tempted to re-up with any one of the several “location-based dating apps” that used to litter my phone. I cannot go back to having things on my phone that make me feel bad about myself. That’s what the rear-facing camera is for.

A few weeks prior to my move from Brooklyn to Columbus, I deleted my profiles in those various apps and sites that supposedly would help me find a geographically convenient guy with whom to do anatomically inconvenient things. They go by names like Scruff, Manhunt, Recon, Grindr, Growlr, Lepr, Regrettr, Alienatr, etc. It’s too easy to just mindlessly scroll thru the endless parade of thumbnail photos of body parts, judging people based on pictures smaller than one-inch square. And if I’m judging, I know I’m being judged right back.

In all of these, I am very specific that I am not interested in a random hook-up. I need some connection before the depravity begins. I also add something along the lines of: “There is no greater aphrodisiac than a complete sentence.”

So, I would obsessively flip between the apps, allowing that weird repetitive behavior aspect that’s somehow part of my bipolar to take over. Of course I never actually initiate contact with people because then they might actually respond. So I wait. The replies of course are slow to come in because, despite my childlike demeanor and that cement truck full of Just For Men I regularly back up onto my face, I refuse to lie about my age.

But eventually replies trickle in. Continue reading Grindrin’ and Growlrin’ Me Down

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Why are you talking to me? Seriously, why? Because it burns! It burns!

Last night, I put up my Christmas lights. All by myself. Kim, the Cat, helped. Please understand that “helping” means meowing loudly because I moved her precious ottoman and attempting to knock me off the stepladder. “Help! My cat is trying to murder me, and I can’t get up!”

On paper I should be a catch. I’m pretty cute in that I possess a pleasing combination of Type II Diabetes and facial hair that appeals to certain niches of the gay community, your Bears and what-not. I have a wonderful sense of decor –as long as I don’t move ottomans. Plus, I’m really funny and charming once you get to know me.

Key phrase: Once you get to know me. Before that, you must swim a moat of alligators that have a look on their face like they’re trying to digest old string cheese. Continue reading Why are you talking to me? Seriously, why? Because it burns! It burns!