The Time I Was Rejected on Grindr Because of My Instagram Account

Okay. So there comes a time in every gay man’s life when he is rejected on Grindr because of his Instagram account. This is the story of the time it happened to me.

After going twenty-fours straight to unpack all my belongings in the Fox Den, I established three major priorities: (1) buy toilet paper (2) drink red wine and (3) log on to Grindr to reassert status as homosexual man.

In the basement… I am going to stop myself right here for a hot minute. I just noticed I keep referring to “the basement” as if it were on the same listing’s page as “the Room” in Emma Donoghue’s twisted tale. For the record, this was not the case at all. The basement was lovely, sprawling and last time I checked, there was no psychotic man with a lock and key. (But side note, can we talk about Alison Brie’s Oscar-winning performance for a moment?” I digress). So let’s start this paragraph again.

In the basement, the conditions were not ideal for me to “host” gentlemen callers – or – shall I say, invite strange men over to take advantage of me. For starters, I lived directly underneath the bedroom of a six year-old-girl (Think of the Children!) but apart from that, I also had a roommate to be considerate of – and, most nights, I couldn’t be inspired to share my precious bottle of red wine with anyone else.

So, once I got back on my own again and the setting for coitus was right, I wasted no time scrolling through all the profiles of online men downtown. Now may I say before we continue any further, that I am fairly good at several things in life but Grindr is not one of them. The truth is I suck at it. And that is not with one inch of a pun intended. For me, trying to meet a good man on a hook-up app, is like failing the colour red in swim class as a young child. Each time at Pan Am pool, I was the only one left behind.  

I like to think I am designed for dating sites that focus on a person’s favourite interests and hobbies, in addition to, the specificities of how they like to get down to clown. Last time, I checked, however, those sites are all dried up, a vacant motel off the old number eight highway! Good luck meeting a husband in this day and age I say! Good luck!

Oh my heavens, I have really got off track here. Time to peddle back.

So all of this is to say that in my best efforts to Grind, measured over a seventy-two hour period, I struck out not once but twice. The first time, I admit was half my fault. It was three in the morning and while I was high on red wine and Season Two of Broadchurch, the man who showed up at my door was flying much higher on a boatload of cocaine. After he talked non-stop at 100km/hr for nearly forty-three minutes straight, I kicked him out so I could continue watching my shows.

The second time, d’ya know what, I admit was fair. After chatting with the most handsome construction worker you have ever seen, legit, I made the mistake of casting myself as Titus Andromedon in The Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt. Within five minutes of chatting, I cooked up a romantic future for ourselves and placed it on the back burner to simmer, while I struggled to “be sexy” in real time. Feeling like a child trying to keep their head above water while doing the whip kick, fortunately I did not have to stay afloat for long. For as soon as he scrolled through my Instagram account, the show was over.

“I just went through your IG”
“This isn’t going to work”
“Sorry bro”

Pouring a glass of red wine, I had nothing left to say to him except “fair enough, bro.” Closing the app on my phone, I could not help but to take a sip of wine and pause to appreciate his honesty. Not to mention, I would be the largest hypocrite in the world if I did not confess to judging someone three photos in.

But is this what the dating world has come to in 2017? Are we all just profiles within 100 metres from each other - left with nothing more at the end of the night than judgment and an empty bottle of red wine? I would need a double gin to think about it more.

Before I stepped back up to the plate to strike out a third time, I decided to take a time out. The bad news is, like all of us at one point or another, I was rejected because of my Instagram account. The good news is that I love my Instagram account. And I wouldn’t change it for the world.