A Story of Rape: How a Grindr Hookup Ruined My Sensuality and My Body
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I was born in 1991. I remember a world without social media. I also can say with increasing certainty the world I remember from my childhood and early teens seems to be moving farther away as the days and years go by.
I realized as you get older, you don’t meet people like you used to. When you’re young everything and everyone is new and exciting and the time and opportunities for those friendships to develop seems to grow thinner like oxygen as you ascend a mountain as you age.
There’s still a handful of stalwarts, but mostly it’s a series friend requests, short pithy instant messages, and posts.
Avatars for a real life.
I don’t remember a life before hook-up apps and social media. Or I vaguely recall it but can’t imagine how we navigated it or how we could go back. There was something to be said, more than something, everything to be said about going to a gay bar with your friends and meeting someone new.
Now many of us don’t even have to leave our couch to snag a date or more accurately a hookup, or whatever.
I just accepted that as the way things were now.
But I learned the hard way what is missing in these digital interactions and hours of scrolling and notifications: body language, demeanor, energy transfers.
A whole intuitional knowledge of the person you are interacting with. You are left with just pictures and words on a screen that paint a picture.
And pictures and words can be about real events, but more often than not, the narratives are fiction.
I would say I am an introvert with some extroverted tendencies. I enjoy my solitutde and peace of mind on the daily but I thrive and live off of the deep connections I do keep with the special people within my life.
I think thats why using apps like Grindr never worked for me to well.
I was not there solely to find good dick or plump booty. That’s always a great reward, but I always have needed more than that. Even from a friends with benefits situation, I need to know you on some deeper level, feel comfortable enough around you, before we ever initiate a anything remotely sexual.
Meeting someone at a bar, talking for hours, playing pool, creates a feeling of intimacy that puts you at ease, your intuition fully vigilant, being able to judge how safe you feel with someone before leaving the bar with them.
Grindr offers none of these things.
I never felt comfortable showing up at a strangers house for a hookup, but I did it. Shit, I didn’t even feel comfrotable meeting someone off Grindr in a bar or a public space, but I did it.
Why? I did it because for most gay men there is no other viable option. If you go to a bar and introduce yourself to strangers you are seen as “creepy” or “crazy” nowadays.
Social media has become so ubiquitous and pervasive that we subconsciously vet friends and acquaintances based on cursory glances at their avatars.
It almost makes us incapable of getting to know a real stranger naturally. Really getting to know someone from scratch is a lost habit these days. We always have some preconceived expectation of who someone is because in our mind we’ve already met them, through social media.
The worst case scenario, we tell ourselves, if those impressions are wrong you can always block, ghost, etc.
I had just turned 25 when I met the guy that would sear a terror I never imagined into my memory.
I was on Grindr all the time back then. I would literally go through a day in a daze of dings and conversations that sometimes lasted minutes, but that could go on for days. Sometimes I felt so close I would allow myself to imagine all kinds of scenarios only for it to end suddenly and be left feeling empty.
I was not ready for a relationship or deep commitment but I was looking for a friend with benefits, one that was actually both a friend and a sexual partner. I would endlessly chat and chat and try to find someone who was looking for the same. Constant rejections and being shamed for being on the app yet not looking for anonymous hookups were a part off the vitriol in too many of the conversations.
I remind myself all the time now that those messages couldn’t be further from a real conversation than an offer from a Nigerian prince.
So I wandered like a ghost through real life while carrying on thousands of virtual conversions always looking for something or a feeling. A positive response felt better than anything in the world. But the converse was also true.
I would often fall asleep with the app open, just in case that perfect dude happened to find me.
One day an older handsome man popped up in my messages. He was built bigger than me, more muscle and slightly taller, a well kept beard, and kind face. I was instantly attracted. I always had a “daddy” fantasy in my arsenal of stories I told myself to get off and he seemed to be the ideal person to actually have this experience. Besides being unbelievably attractive, he was good with his words.
For alot of those who use Grindr, grammatical correctness is not a top priority, but a well crafted sentence will get me harder than a picture of your cock.
We talked for hours and hours so by the end of the night, between his words and his pictures, I was all for it. We agreed to meet up the following evening for some movies, food, and potential “fun” if we felt comfortable.
Nothing about the day of could have prepared me for how it would end.
I had work that morning and was supposed to go over to his place around 7.
We were in contact almost the whole day over Grindr.
His words and messages suggested he was still really into me, I didn’t feel that competitive oneupmanship I often did when someone I had been chatting with let me know, intentionally or accidentally that he was talking to someone else simultaneously.
Sometimes many someone elses.
He’d instantly put me at ease throughout the day, saying he was anticipating meeting up as much as I was.
He even insisted he was “more nervous than” me and I had nothing to worry about when I confessed my self consciousness about my caved in skinny chest when I imagined being naked together.
That day we were talking in away that I had never experienced. He disarmed me by confessing his insecurities being with someone as young and beautiful as me. Through that day long ongoing discussion we discovered a bit more about each other.
I learned he was a firefighter and a volunteer EMT. That made me feel so warm becasue I used to think only good people would take jobs like that. Ya know running into a fire or saving a dying persons life usually means you are selfless; goodhearted. So I got off work and went home to get ready. I ate a small snack, shaved, and hopped in the shower to freshen up. I made sure to be ready for that night, being a bottom wasn’t always the easiest. We had not officially said we would be having sex but we did discuss preferences and positions, as well as if the mood was right we would both be willing.
That being said I wanted to make sure I was clean and ready down there. Hence the shaving down under and just a small snack with nothing for breakfast besides yogurt that morning. Figured by the time we got around to it the only thing substantial I would have eaten was the pizza we ordered together.
Or as my friend Kyle used to screech, “No mess, oh yesss!”
When it came time to go I asked for his address and waited what seemed an unusually long time to get a response. After obtaining the address I hopped in my car and headed out to his place. We had both agreed to meet there and he said he had an “awesome couch and big tv” which would be “perfect for the movie and pizza party” we intended to have.
He lived a good 40 minutes from where I was at the time but it was a familiar area as I had once worked nearby.
I arrived at his house to find a pick-up truck with a firefighters’ light rack on the top in the driveway and instantly felt a sigh of relief, as if the presence of the truck meant that everything else he’d said was true.
I knocked on the door and waited what was probably less than two minutes but seemed like an eternity.
I thought it was odd that it even took that long for him to emerge from the split level ranch with the aluminum siding that looked like every other house in the neighborhood. But he texted an apology and said he “had to prepare.”
I, on the other hand, was feeling more confident and happy that I had taken over 45-minutes to make sure every part of my very much styled hair-do was perfect.
When he opened the door his smile was so inviting and as I offered a hand shake, he slapped my hand away and gave me a tight hug that made me feel so good in an era where people barely press flesh when they hug, treading so lightly as t not potentially offend or open ourselves up.
He pulled me in and and I will always remember the sounds of the outer storm door’s lock clicking. I thought of that scene in Watchmen where Dr. Manhattan is building the watch. I saw all these gears clicking and grinding in my head. Locking out the bad of the outside world into just the island of security of his house, the safety of inside.
He swung me around only a few feet to the right of the door into the into the kitchen where I saw a pizza already waiting on the faux Ikea granite counter.
I remember thinking that was kind of odd.
He told me that he had decided to have it ready because he didn’t want “to waste any more time” since he knew I had “drove forty minutes or so to get” there.
He explained he just decided to use the message that I had sent him last night, of me telling him my favorite pizza toppings, and use that as what we would order. I felt mixed about this instantly, with one part of my brain telling me this was fucking weird as fuck while simultaneously feeling warm that he’d been so thoughtful about the toppings.
But it was so fleeting, that thought of concern, that nothing about it set off any alarm bells. His behavior didn’t appear weird or odd enough for me to feel any certain type of way about it, and the pizza was still warm, so I ate it.
It was good pizza too. My family used to drive all the way out here to get this specific pizza for special occasions.
It’s fucked that I still think about him and this experience every time I have pizza.
Anyway, We grabbed a couple slices and a bottle of wine and headed for the living room. He did have a huge flat screen tv and a big grey couch. The couch was surprisingly comfy. In my mind I remember that visually verifying these details meant everything was indeed real. He must be an alright guy. We chatted briefly about our day and then we moved into what type of movie we wanted to watch. To this day I cannot remember what we watched. I don’t know why I remember bits and pieces of scenes but have never been able to thread that needle since.
The movie had been on maybe ten minutes before he made a move. It was small and gentle, he just put his hand on my hand. I did not move it I just looked at him and smiled. He moved closer to me on the couch and we embraced in a hug or cuddle like fashion. He told me that I was so cute and that he was glad I had come over.
I told him I was glad that I had too because it seemed like we were going to have a really good night. We stayed like that for a minute or two watching the movie before he turned to kiss me. It was more aggressive than I had anticipated and I was caught off guard but still went with it as I had no real indication of anything that was going to follow.
We made out for a few minutes and then he started to unbutton my pants. I withdrew slightly into the corner of the couch and asked him if he was “willing to wait a bit more.”
Before I finished the sentence he lunged onto me he said “why wait?”
He was already over my body and trying to still make out with me when I realized that this was not going to be a tender experience. When I pulled away to stop and try to say something he had turned me over and pinned my arms down over the arm of the couch faster than I could react.
He grabbed the back of my neck with one hand and held me down straddled. Then with the other hand he grabbed onto my my cargo shorts in the back and pulled. Buttons popped and were lost as he ripped my shorts off leaving a rugburn like sting. I had never felt particularly strong, but I had never felt this frail and small. Like a prey species in the presence of a tiger whose camouflage blended him with the reeds until he attacked.
He was a big guy by any account, probably 6’5″ and as his body pressed against me, I felt the sinewy muscles, strong musculature of someone who had fought and rarely lost this battle.
I remember feeling helpless, out of options, part of me that I will always be ashamed of gave in, I was sure any effort to repel him physically would be met with a show of force.
I still lasted about ten minutes before I gave up fighting entirely.
He never once lifted both his arms from my back, neck, or shoulders.
He had me pinned me down the whole time, telling me what a “good boy” I was.
I remember going between staring at the clock on the wall and his dog on the chair. The dog who should have snarled and defended me, just watch as I was raped and screamed.
He used spit and no lubrication the whole time.
I thought the initial tearing, the feeing of being stabbed in my ass with a piece of broken glass would pass and it would end soon.
But five minutes later, I felt him push the head of his cock further into me, and the pain was worse than the initial penetration.
I know I was screaming, begging him to stop, but he just put his one hand over my mouth and said now be “a good boy.”
I was snotting and completely sobbing throughout the entire ordeal.
But, the one indignity I will never forget, was the simultaneous revulsion and embarrassment as I came in a series of four involuntarily orgasms I had.
Every time I came he laughed cruelly, telling me it proved “how much I loved and needed this. ”
“I knew you’d like it because you’re a good boy.”
When he was about to come he announced it, twice actually.
Once about a minute before and then again right as he came.
He announced it, yelled it, in tone one usually reserves for your cheering on your favorite team as they scored a goal.
And he was scoring as he yelled “I’m going to cum.”
And then he reared up into a more animal like position and said “I’m going to give you my seed boy.”
As he orgasmed he shoved his cock as far inside me as he possibly could. Three different times completely in and out as hard as he could. I remember hearing my back crack the last time his torso and my backside came together.
He grunted heavily on the last spurt then laid down on top of me. For the next few minutes, his cock remained inside of me, pulsating and finally deflating in my colon, going from hard to soft.
I will never forget the weight of his body on top of mine. I felt like I was going to die or suffocate. Yet I I just laid there and took shallow breaths feeling him inside of me until he removed his member and slowly lifted off of me.
The whole time he would pull out, making an embarrassing popping sound and lifting himself up, only to pount me again, all while his hand held his whole body weight pressed on my neck.
I thought for sure he was going to snap it until I heard his feet hit the ground and felt the pressure lighten as he removed his hand.
I laid there over the couch arm like I had been for the last 30 minutes or so. The dog looked at me as he had been looking at me the whole time. Like nothing had happened.
The first words out of his mouth were “You’re ass was perfect.”
He reached for a towel that was waiting behind the couch, preemptively just as the pizza had been, and rubbed the spit, cum, and anal juice off his penis. The second thing out of his mouth was “Do you want some more wine? You might need it for the second round.”
He said this as he made his way to the bathroom to take a piss. The bathroom was across a hallway from the living room. Even though I had already been raped something inside me clicked.
That fight or flight instinct I’d heard about all my life.
I jumped out of the hunched over position I had been in for the last 40 minutes and grabbed my busted shorts and my shirt. I was dressed and almost had my shoes tied on by the time he had finished pissing.
As he came through the doorway from the hallway bathroom to the living room he saw that I was dressed and standing. He instantly asked me what I was doing and why I was leaving. I told him because I was no longer having a good time and that he should have stopped when I asked. While walking towards me quickly he tried to say something along the lines of “I thought thats how you guys like it” but I was already running towards the front door.
I got into my car and locked the doors as he approached and pounded on the window telling me to go back inside, that we weren’t done.
I took off out of his driveway and never looked back.
That was the first and last time I was ever raped.
In truth it was the only bad experience I ever had on that app besides the endless and pointless conversations with the people you end up never meeting.
I wasn’t myself for a long time. I didn’t go out, I didn’t focus on my writing or my hobbies, and I certainly didn’t use the app for months after that. I fell into a deep depression and withdrew into myself. I did not seek legal action or help as I was too embarrassed and still in shock.
I did have the wherewithal to immediately go get tested for STDs. He hadn’t used a condom and the testing was weekly and free at the Health Department in my area. Eventually I told two good firends and began seeing a therapist. My friends gave me a lot of support and ways to cope, as well did my psychiatrist at the time.
Mentally it took me a while to be able to talk to anyone over an online app again. And when I did I had to try and not think the worst of them or have trust issues. I stopped using them completely for a long time. However it’s the way of the world so inevitably I found myself back on them. To this day my sense of sensuality has been damaged beyond repair.
My interest in sex substantially lower.
Masturbation became my primary sexual outlet for a while.
I will never bottom again, not only because of the mental trigger but because of the small lasting fissure that always leads to pain after intercourse. I’d say it was a good three years before my libido was back to a normal, if it’ll ever be normal again. I wasn’t fully back to myself until I met my current partner and relearned what love and sex is, slowly but surely, together.
The most brutal and enduring souvenir of that day in addition to the incredibly painful anal fissure are hemorrhoids. I could not go to the bathroom without excruciating pain afterwards, so I eventually went to the doctor. Thats were I was informed on the injuries I had sustained from the lack of lubrication, intense force, and long lasting duration of the event.
If the mental anguish and repetitive memories weren’t enough, the physical pain would drive it all home.
Someone not using any proper precautions, someone not using any lubrication, someone using extreme force, and someone violating your body’s will.
I often thought when I was trying to be positive, that I was lucky that was all that happened to me that night. I was in constant extreme pain in my anus and my groin areas for about three weeks. Going to the bathroom, number one or two, was painful and uncomfortable for months.
And it is still is, whenever the hemorrhoids resurface every two or three weeks if I miss my stool softener or daily dose of Activia.
Even now the pain instantly evokes the feeling that he is still in me, on me, and around me.
I was and am constantly reminded on the daily by things small and large that I have been raped. And the physical damages continue hinder me from obtaining what I know my true sensuality should be and the pleasure I once experienced is akin to the feelings that amputees describe as ghost limbs.
I never ever thought in a million years that I would be raped, yet alone that I would almost allow it to happen. I had not one signal before entering his home that he had any intention of abusing my trust or my kindness. We messaged for almost 14 hours straight and I had such a good feeling about him that I drove 40 minutes to his house. You ask yourself who would drive 40 minutes to anywhere if they werent sure about the person they were going to meet. That’s the thing though I wasn’t unsure. From our interactions over Grindr and from what I could make of it he was a great guy who was primarily looking for the same thing I was. Thats’ it though, that’s the problem right there. Words on a screen are just words on a screen, and pictures are still images. You do not pick up on someone’s vibe, you do not pick up on their body language, you cannot pick up on their energies or mannerisms.
You are precluded from your own instinctual aversion to menace.
Over an app you lose almost all the things about someone that might set your intuition off. I was blinded not only by my own desires but the way in which they were basically regurgitated back at me from that tiny screen.
I fooled myself into believing I had an accurate sense of who this man was. I walked blindly into a situation that could have ended a lot worse.
That has ended a lot worse for many.
I haven’t been on Grindr, or any other social media dating or hookup app since.
I was lucky to have found someone with whom I have a real love and years of not engaging with someone via this technology, I can see much more clearly how flawed and how desperate the interactions that take place vis-a-vis their coding, GPS, and algorithms skew how we interact.
As Donald Trump flailed in desperation in the last days of his presidency only a week ago, I remember seeing the snarling anger he reserved for the indignity of being silenced by Twitter, et. al. and as I watched normally placid friends and relatives swarm onto posts with feral aggressiveness, I wished that Twitter and Facebook would block all of us. Even if momentarily, I felt like the respite from these addictive digital panaceas was what we really needed to heal as a country.
We need to get back into the habit of getting to know someone face to face.
We need to get back into the habit of meeting people through individuals that are already in our lives.
We need to get back to a time when the anxiety and butterflies in your tummy you feel as you approach the hot guy who’s been smiling and undressing you with their eyes all night, are not feelings to be avoided but embraced, as they signify neural paths connecting and the spark igniting the cascade of conflicting feelings, that are happening to your entire body, not just the pleasure center of your frontal lobe.
We need to understand the miasma and stage fright of that first hello with a stranger is at the core of human connection.
To set the clock back to a time when all those feelings that surface that make it seem as if you’re incapable of crossing that divide from stranger, to perhaps acquaintance, possibly friendship and yes, even love.
Where that whole ritual of interaction that is part of our evolution and DNA feels just as natural, just as unsettling, and just as acceptable, as starting a conversation on Grindr with your picture of your dick.
