Anyway, the experience being one of such unprecedentedly swift gratification (from flirtation to sweaty fucking to the after-glowing sojourn home), and me being so hopelessly cerebral, I've decided to blog what I intuit will be a new and notably lewd chapter.
I'm still reeling. I know I'm definitely 'catching up', that the world of Internet dating with it's shameless collapse of privacy and nuances of blunt and tersely contracted communication (I'm guessing to weed out the incompatibles as efficiently as possible), is basically well established. It's me that's only lately discovering an existing world, rather than joining 'of the moment' to praise or curse an emerging phenomenon.
Still, I can't believe this is a fucking thing! It's a hundredfold more disorienting than joining Facebook was. Maybe it's because the digitisation of sex is happening with the former, or more accurately the networking or convivial preamble to a sexual encounter has been condensed or even elided, a micro experience substituted for an actual one.
I'm not saying this has or is even yet to occur, but conceivably the social skills necessary to meet the demands of that experience may wither and die in their neglect, should grindr become popular enough (which to my understanding it is).
Anyway, this is a chronicle of a late-grindr-bloomer, a twenty-three year old dinosaur, navigating new terrain and even now only one 'date' in, mourning the loss of macro dating-methods.
Is it so idealistic to expect celestial forces to align with my desire and plop Mr. Right Now in front of me as the need invariably (inevitably) arises?
And on boredom.
Having had the app for approximately twenty-four hours, perusing profiles of potential lays already proves compulsive, like Internet-porn compulsive, which I guess it's close to; I'm searching images for something I 'like', surface-level chatting to gauge whether I can render a fantasy solid enough to sustain an encounter, and an hour later I could be balls deep happily cumming. I look at profile pictures with the same bodily expectation of arousal and orgasm as I do pornographic material.
Boredom often brings me to have between three and five simultaneous windows of porn open (no judgement please), but add grindr to the mix and you've got a form of escapist entertainment with the potential to lead out of fantasy into real encounter.
Could this damage me emotionally, by way of supplanting any real desire for intimacy I might have on some level ( I make it sound so peripheral), with sexual or romantic longing only rearing as a means to defer boredom? Love as entertainment?
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