- I used Grindr every day, logging on to see who was near me and get instant validation.
- I realized I didn't like the person I was on the app, and I wasn't using it for the right reasons.
Four months ago, I did something which, in the modern age, and for a gay man like me, felt like packing up tools and retiring from relevancy. I deleted Grindr.
I didn't stop there. I deleted all dating apps, which had crept onto my phone like an oil spillage. Tinder. Hinge. Scruff.
But Grindr was different. Grindr was very much part of my smartphone addiction. I logged on daily, and it needed to stop.
Grindr started to rule my life
Grindr is more of a hook-up app than a dating app. Some go on there looking for more, but for most, it's the quickest way to meet up for no-strings-attached, man-on-man sex with men closest to you.
It sounds so commonplace now. It's easy to underestimate just how groundbreaking that alert of homosexual proximity was. I grew up for years feeling isolated and excluded from the standard dating life my straight peers freely enjoyed. In the late '90s and early noughties, I was terrified anyone would discover I was gay; I was convinced they'd ostracize me like a leper. I felt like the only person dealing with this. Gay people were hated and mocked. Something like Grindr, back then, would've shown me I'm not alone; others are right on my doorstep. I cannot stress how powerful that feeling of solidarity would've been.
This is also partly what made it so very addictive. I could easily see how many men were nearby, who were online right now, and who were horny. Sometimes, I'd use it to meet a man for an actual coffee date, sometimes for a hook-up. Before long, I was logging on daily.
I'd log on at work when I needed some excitement. If I entered a new suburb, city, or even country, the first thing I'd do — before absorbing my new surroundings in the real world — would be turn on Grindr. Inevitably, messages followed, and with messages came validation.
I'd turn it on in the mornings to see who was online even though I was busy getting ready for work. Then I found myself logging on discreetly at any brief moment of boredom: in a queue, waiting for a friend, or on the toilet. There was absolutely no way I was going to meet any man for a romantic or intimate moment during these times. But I'd lie and pretend I was.
I realized the app made me behave in ways that didn't align with my values
I didn't like who I became on there. Aside from lying about my intentions, I was monosyllabic on the app, when in real life, I'm very much multisyllabic. I love words and proper, fulfilling chats. I also judged men purely on appearance and age. When I did want to meet someone, I became impatient. I hated answering, "How are you?" I wanted them to cut to the chase.
In short, instant gratification took too long.
I realized I was no longer using the app for what it was intended for — hookups and dates. I was now using it exclusively for validation. When I didn't receive messages, I felt empty.
Then, Grindr, in recent years, released a "boost me" button. You pay to go to the top of people's grid across your city for an hour. It was transfixing. I literally got dozens of messages in that hour. I'm slightly ashamed to admit I spent over a hundred dollars on this.
I recently finished reading "The Velvet Rage" by psychologist Alan Downs, which theorizes that gay men seek validation to compensate for the shame they felt growing up in a straight man's world. My Grindr addiction fed on this.
That's when I knew I had to delete the dating app
My love life improved as a result of deleting; without using Grindr as a crutch, it forced me to go out and actually start conversations with men. I went on actual dates before or after hooking up. It felt healthier, and I was happier.
Admittedly, there've been moments when I've re-downloaded Grindr, but the minute my old habits crawl back, I find myself deleting it within an hour.
Grindr can actually be a great connection tool when traveling to a new city to live, vacation, or work. If I can trust myself to use it as a connection tool, rather than a validation seeker, then I haven't ruled out re-downloading it.
Till then, the distinctive bright orange grid and borderline iconic "brrrrup" notification sound have been silenced for a more old-fashioned dating life.
Gary Nunn is an author and journalist. Visit his free substack here.