After scrolling through the feed, I realized that Grindr seems to have definitely moved to Instagram. And it moved with all its usual inhabitants—only now they call it running a personal blog.
You open Insta, and there’s another guy in the gym. Of course, he’s just sharing his workout results. That’s why the photo is taken in his underwear, ass to the mirror, and the caption is some philosophical nonsense about self-love.
Fuck, yes, we get it—you want to fuck. Why so many decorations?
And in Grindr it was all more honest. You’d open it, see who was nearby, exchange photos. If you didn’t like each other, you went your separate ways. Or you’d run into ghosting, when a person just stops replying.
And now it starts with likes. Then the algorithm thinks you’re a match and keeps serving you the same person again and again and again. And bam—you’re already following them. Then come the reactions to stories. Then, if it’s a mutual match, he’ll DM you something. Or maybe he’s just an OnlyFans creator with an army of managers.
But the new culture of public modesty is especially wonderful.
“I’m not looking for a relationship at all.”
“I’m happy on my own.”
“I’m just living my best life.”
And all this beneath the twenty-seventh photo of your own abs in a month.
No, darling, you’re not just living your best life. You’re running a self-marketing campaign. Seven days a week, no days off.
And here’s what’s interesting. At least in Grindr it was clear why someone came there. But on Instagram everyone is now looking for sex, relationships, followers, and, preferably, brand partnerships all at once. And sometimes it’s unclear what a person needs more: to finally get laid, or to have a photo rack up a thousand likes.
I’m absolutely not against explicit photos. On the contrary, I love looking at handsome men. But it amazes me how much effort we’ve started putting into seeming desirable instead of just getting to know someone.
And what’s funniest is that behind all this display of sexuality, we’ve become terribly ashamed of our own desire.
Telling someone outright “I like you” is awkward. Suggesting meeting up is too pushy. But posting a semi-nude photo with the caption “boring Sunday evening” — that, of course, is just content.
In short, Grindr hasn’t gone anywhere. It just got a pretty interface, ad integrations, and the ability to pretend you’re here purely for art.
Although you know what the most insulting part is?
Before, people could simply ignore you on Grindr. And now you also see that this fucking ghoster watched your story.
✦ This article is published as written by the author. The opinions, assessments, and conclusions expressed in the text are those of the author and may not reflect the position of the Doberman.media editorial board. The editorial board is not responsible for the author’s interpretations, statements, or conclusions.
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