Jack Cullen

Grindr’s Keepers

An aperitif to the Grindr Diet.

As a teenager I used to worry myself to sleep, lying in bed wondering if I’d ever meet boys who felt like me. Ten years later, I go to sleep with about twenty men each night, their faces neatly arranged into the shiny orange grid of Grindr: it’s an all-you-can-eat buffet of gayness and it’s addictive.

At the top of the screen I have my 1st XV, my ‘favourites’, forever fixed in their positions. These boys are an eclectic mix of friends, colleagues and boys who were just too hot to let go. I also have two exs in there that I still stalk a bit, not so much ‘favourites’ I suppose. More like ‘concerns’. I used to treat my ‘favourites’ like a display case, collecting hot boys like rare stamps. But over time Grindr has taught me that most of the hot boys are using deceptively attractive pictures, or they’re empty-headed egomaniacs.

We’ve all read how Grindr has revolutionised gay sex. Nearly 2 million users, 8000 joining every day etc. Of course gay sex has always been very easy to get hold of, but Grindr is a welcome reinvention of the wheel. Its primary achievement is making no-strings-sex fashionable again. Grindr gives that long neglected sector of bisexual and curious guys now have an easy way to access the often intimidating world of men who have sex with men. Those who can’t sit at their home PC on Gaydar, those who can’t bound around in bushes with a hard-on.

Grindr has added a new dimension to the fulltime sport of spotting gay men. So many of us play on our travels from A to B each day, the backwards glance, the knowing eye, the purt sway of the tightly-wrapped bum. Well now we can simply sit with our elbows lodged on the bright white tablecloth of a friend’s wedding and frantically scan the crowd for fresh cock without evening lifting the head.

Grindr is reaffirming too, it shows us just how many gay men there actually are out there. Within easy walking distance of my flat, a mere two songs on an iPod, there are never less than 15 men online at any time. I was surprised to learn my mum lives in the middle of some kind of gay teenager soap opera too (all those wasted school holidays reading in the garden!). Admittedly, there wasn’t much Grinding to be had near my Gran’s, but she does live on the coast, so one half of the GPS’s reach falls deafly onto the English Channel.

But enough rambling about the philosophy of Grindr, let’s put this app into action. How easy is it to turn those shiny little faces into spread cheeks on a bed? Sifting through the sea of topless orangatans and overly-opinionated cyclists, how many up-for-it guys are there out there?

And so, I set myself a task that only a magazine as brilliant as Gay Times could help me to justify – the task of finding 7 Grindr shags in 7 days. And we’re not talking pints in shit pubs. We’re talking shags. That’s more sex than a poet of the romantic period could hope to see in his whole life, and even by 2011 gay standards it’s a relatively busy week.

So, pick up your copy of the new Alex Reid Sex Issue this month and find out what happened in my feature “7 Grindr Shags in 7 Days”.

p.s. we still haven't received our copy of this.

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