It was three p.m. and as I sat down to join my friends at the bar table, I began to realize at that my attendance at this so-called "Sunday Funday" gathering was pointless. There was no me. There was no company. And probably, there was no God. There was however, a shirtless bartender to provide liquid courage, a myriad of small photos of strangers located within a 1000 foot radius and a free clinic down the street."Hi", I said to all three of my friends. No response. "Hi", I remarked again, half convinced that perhaps in the loud bar my friends hadn't heard me. "I'm gonna go get a drink" I exclaimed, and I walked away. After a ten minute wait to receive my ten dollar cocktail I pushed my way back to the table.
My friend Walter finally looked up and said, "Oh my gosh Elliott, how long have you been here?" I wanted to say, "Enough time to notice your Rogaine isn't helping" but instead I said, "Oh, about fifteen minutes". Walter said, "Oh my gosh, you have to see this guy I'm talking to!". Expecting to meet some insanely hot, muscular, blonde cretin who would want nothing to do with me after he glanced upon my average at best facial features, I took a chug of my ten dollar vodka soda and painted on my "nice person" smile. Silly me, I should have known that I wouldn't actually be meeting a real life meathead, but instead, I would be directed to a picture on Walter's Iphone of some shirtless Armenian meathead who was allegedly standing 103 feet away.
You see, Walter hadn't even met this Armenian yet, but somehow he was already involved in a passionate, emotional love affair and Walter was planning on having like, 10,000 babies with him. An Armenian who, according to his online profile was "Hung Like A Camel". I don't really know much about dromedaries, but I was a bit offended by his forwardness, not to mention his blatant reference to Islamic Stereotypes. I could only pray I wouldn't have to meet him in real life. Walter was quite smitten with himself and apparently the exchange had just ended on a high note. The final text read "Let's MEAT at 8". I sighed and shook my head. I suppose I should be used to such behavior.
I'm talking of course about Grindr. For those of you not familiar, Grindr is a smart phone radar application for gay men. Gays throughout the land can locate other gays close by, strike up a semi-hilarious double entendre filled conversation which four minutes later eventually lead to unprotected sex and if they're lucky, a mild case of gonorrhea. It's similar to finding a stranger in a bar to sleep with, except you eliminate all the clerical work. Grindr - it's an all you can eat homosexual buffet. And it's completely free. Even Sizzler can't compete with it's price. Asian, Kosher, American, Iranian, African and French. You can essentially get whatever you're in the mood for. In typical buffet fashion, most entrees look a lot better than they taste, not to mention you will probably contract a food borne illness. And by food borne illness, I mean syphilis. I'd imagine Grindr was first designed for priests, politicians and sad farmers in small towns with two houses and a cow, but now anyone anywhere can enjoy hours of socializing without actually socializing. I recently invited eight of my best gays to my apartment for a dinner party. All eight showed up and quickly hopped on Grindr and I learned a hard lesson. Don't even bother serving dinner at a gay dinner party. By seven p.m. six of my friends left before appetizers to go have sex, the other two were on a vodka only diet and couldn't have been less interested in my cooking.
Steve Jobs has inadvertently caused the complete social downfall of modern gay society . I don't really know what it all means, other than I should really just bring my IPAD with me to bars so I can just sit there and play "Bejeweled" while my friends mentally masturbate and convince themselves that the"straight acting" jock thirty feet away that enjoys "PNP" (party and play) will make good husband material. Is it trolling for sex if technically you really don't even have to troll? You can just stand there looking pretty and pink and people will magically appear on your radar. Grindr is like shooting gay fish in a barrel. Bottom feeders and scavengers, pun intended. I hope someday there will be laws against its use in public. Or maybe they could make a patch. Like a smoking patch, but instead of nicotine, it could pump you with manners. Until then, I beg of you, take the time to enjoy each other's company. Cell phones down people. Cell phones down. And guys, here's a tip - maybe if you were talking with your friends and actually having a good time you wouldn't seem so god damn unapproachable and aloof in the first place.
BB PNP A ++++
ReplyDelete