Guy #124 – Let the dolphin speak…

Sometimes Guys on Grindr fail to get the message: That he’s just not that into you.

A good friend of mine introduced me to the perfect emoji for silencing people who fail to realize when the relationship, whatever it was, has run its course. It’s the dolphin.

These days, whenever I used up every available polite way of saying let us not be part of each other’s lives and the only thing I have left is to bluntly tell this person I’m not that into him, I send a dolphin:

dolphin

A dolphin is friendly, playful and well spirited. It means I wish the other person well on his journeys.
It also means the conversation is over.

No healthy person enjoys rejecting others. It’s why we go about it ever so gently. The result is an internet full of people who mistake attention for interest.

Guy #124 was old enough to be dating but too young to have even a slight grasp of the complexity of the game.

About fifteen minutes into our dance floor hook-up Guy #124 told me he had wanted me the moment he first laid eyes on me. For me Guy #124 was only my third or fourth choice of all the Guys there. He was young and inexperienced. I was at #124 and had every intention of making it to at least #125 in the near future.

The reason I ended up having sex with Guy #124 is that he was the key to experiencing a tiny part of the local gay scene I had never experienced before: Hook-up motels, where you park your car behind a curtain and have sex in the garage. The country we were in just so happened to be the place where secretive gay sex was very common, so when Guy #124 suggested we’d go there one day, I was curious enough to try.

What I remember most is the motel cleaning lady, the only person in the world who got to look the customer in the eyes, a bearer of secrets if ever I’ve seen one. The sex itself was more or less okay. We could hear the cleaning lady vacuuming throughout.

As we were cooling down in the garage, Guy #124 occasionally asked me to ‘say something’, apparently lamenting the fact I wasn’t as cheerful as I had been on a dance floor. I didn’t say anything. I just couldn’t be bothered.

Yet for some reason Guys like #124 can find in depressing motel room dates the start of something beautiful. And they’re sweet and inexperienced, so you don’t want to be the first to break their heart, so you go easy on them, and you reply when they start texting you the very next day.

You reply without offering any real input for the conversation to go on, yet the other Guy just keeps asking questions, or gives you that one remark that gets under your skin just enough to respond, thinking the conversation will die out eventually like a flame in the vacuum of space.

I should have flippered Guy #124. I should have sent him the dolphin, letting him know I have nothing against him and that I think he’s sweet and reasonably apt at having sex, but that the relationship has ended, because reasons.

The dolphin is the definitive lid on social awkwardness. It’s the most humane way of saying:

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True to form I never reply to a single message from a person I’ve flippered. If a dolphin can’t show them I’m just not that into them, I don’t know what will.

Guy #124 ended up being quite offended when I eventually stopped replying to his text messages. He would not have been had I sent him a dolphin. That would have left him in a gentle but confused state of wonder.

I think ‘flippering’ could be this year’s planking.


Relationship summary:

LENGTH: 3 weeks
FORMAT: 2 hopeless sex dates
SEX SCORE (0 = A Hannibal Lecter dinner party <–> 10 = The best sex ever): 7.5

Guy #55 – Post-orgasmic cam session cool down.

When it comes to technology I always lag behind.
I survived the 1990s without internet. I didn’t get my first cell phone until 2002. I held on to this Nokia heavyweight until 2012, when Guy #115 gave me my first smartphone out of pity.

I was among the last privileged white people to go on Facebook, Twitter and Instagram.

Technology in itself doesn’t repel me. I’ll buy it when I need it, not a moment sooner. If a trend is lasting it will find its way to me eventually.

By the end of 2009 I started exploring the world of MSN. To me it was like talking, only with fingers and usually not with people I knew.

Some conversations I had on MSN were okay, most were boring and pointless.

Until one day Guy #55 told me my laptop had a webcam.

Guy #55 was about 4000 miles away from me. I have no idea how we got to talking with each other, but the short version of the not so long story is that we ended up showing off our masturbatory skills in front of our respective webcams.

Cam sex was interesting.

I knew I would never make the effort to meet let alone do Guy #55 in real life. That made everything I said about how turned on I was a bit of a bright white lie.

A bright white lie in this case is typing something like I want to feel that cock inside of me so bad right now while in reality I was thinking It´s frustrating to type with only one hand. Why aren´t laptops with webcams ergonomically prepared for people engaging in cam sex? Surely the inventors of the web cam knew what it was going to be used for? It’s impossible to masturbate and type at the same time. Both require a completely different posture. So you either have to constantly interrupt what you’re doing or clumsily type with one hand while your eyes are mostly focused on seeing what the other Guy is doing.

Cam sex requires a lot of multitasking for a man.

The reason I engaged in a long distance cam session with Guy #55 was that I had never done it before. Like I said: I never look for technology. It always finds its way to me and when it does I usually end up feeling clumsy and incapable at first.

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In fact, few situations are more awkward than a post-orgasmic cam session cool down with a stranger. There’s no cuddling, just plain naked awkwardness and still only one hand to type with. Figure out why.

;)

That’s what I ended up typing after Guy #55 and I had both cammed what we came for.
;) was the best lie I could do on one hand. I wanted to close my laptop and take a shower, but even at 4000 miles I chose to stay polite.

The most exciting part of ‘being’ with Guy #55 was actually the realization we live in an age where we can transmit our naked selves over thousands of miles. For free. As someone with vivid memories of the 1980s the technology was more exciting than Guy #55 itself.

They should design webcams that automatically fade to black five seconds after coming. It would have been the most honest way to progress my relationship with Guy #55: I honestly wanted it to be stopped dead in its tracks and never to be spoken of.

Instead Guy #55 and I ended up chatting for a while. I was despising my own politeness.

Guy #55 started insisting on meeting one day.

After our first and only online encounter he would regularly hit me up on my dating profiles. It’s not that I didn’t like him. He was just immensely focused on meeting up with me. It became a bit of a problem a few weeks later, when I moved back to our common home country, where distance is often measured in feet.

Politeness never ends in a spectacular fashion. I simply kept responding less and less to his messages, until I ignored him completely, regardless of how close we were. It has been well over two years since he tried to hit me up online.

I just realized that means he kept on trying for four years straight. Perhaps that means I wasn’t as clumsy as I felt.

I guess I’m better at technology than I give myself credit for.

 


 

Relationship summary:

LENGTH: 4 years
FORMAT: ;)
SEX SCORE (0 = Onion flavored toothpaste <–> 10 = The best sex ever): 2.5