Tag Archives: Grindr Templates

The Guysexual’s Guide To Every Fuckboy In The World

Fuckboy.jpg

Kartik, 28 (my copywriter friend who gets a mention every few weeks) matched with Atul, a senior associate at a top legal firm, about two years ago. They bonded over their love for bad puns, great gin and the fact that they were both self-proclaimed Ravenclaws. What could I say?

Wit beyond measure led them to each other’s treasure trails.

For Kartik (as is usual), it was love at first swipe. Like most millennial love stories, it had its (mostly) highs and (many) lows. But something still seemed wrong — the dates were always at home, friends were never involved and future plans were never made. Their trysts started late, but Kartik was never invited to stay the night (including that one time when he puked all over the bathroom floor).

It seemed strange, but Kartik (being Kartik) decided not to second-guess things. He continued making bad puns, and drinking great gin. Why wouldn’t he?

Atul was a great many things. He was smart. He was handsome. He was successful. He was charming. He was a dipsomaniac.

Atul was also a F**kboy.

The quintessential f**kboy (just like Atul) is not always very easy to spot, considering his adaptive nature and ability to blend in. The F**kboy is everywhere (and more importantly, anywhere). Smiling behind you at the checkout aisle in the supermarket. Making googly eyes in the subway. At the library. In your poetry class. In the bus. At the local pub. In your untouched list of Tinder matches. Anyone who’s traversed through this giant desert of dating knows that finding a F**kboy is like finding a wild Rattata on Pokemon Go — it’s that common — which makes avoiding them that much more difficult. Want to know how to bypass the boys that most bad decisions are made of?

Look no further, kids. Here are some telltale signs the guy you are hopelessly crushing on, only plans to crush your heart after:

The F**kboy only messages you post midnight.

He’ll never disappoint.

The one time he messages you at 8 pm, is simply because his flat mates are away.

He drinks his cold pressed juices straight out of the carton.

Just like he drinks his pre-mixed cocktails straight out of plastic bottles.

The f**kboy is an amalgamation of bad pick-up lines, expensive perfume and template text messages that he broadcasts to his little black book of men.

All three have high success rates.

He hoards up on all his used condom wrappers, because ‘how else will he know that he’s the supreme sex god that he claims to be?’

He addresses you as his bro. Even when he meets you in person.

And he doesn’t mean it in the endearing “I-am-so-comfortable-around-you-I-can-call-you-anything’ kind of way.

He’s always vague about his Friday night plans.

But he already has advance tickets for Tomorrowland 2019.

The F**kboy doesn’t snuggle. He prefers the post-coital smoke to the post-coital cuddle.

His idea of the perfect date includes drinks at a dive bar, and dessert back at his place. Dinner is usually not a part of the deal, unless you offer to eat it off him.

He wears his charm like he wears his signature perfume.

Bottles of it at a time.

He introduces you to his friends as a ‘friend from work that he bumped into’.

Eight months into knowing you. You never see them again.

Or all his friends know who you exactly are, but they act like they know something that you obviously don’t: that he’s seeing other people.

He’s always busy when it’s time to meet your friends.

Once it was his dog’s funeral. Twice it was a late night at the office.

And thrice, it was his mother’s birthday.

In the same year.

The F**kboy rolls up his shirtsleeves to just below his elbows, because he likes to live on the edge.

He likes to drive with his windows open, and uses styling mousse so that his hair doesn’t look ‘too windswept.’ Sometimes he doubles it up as lubricant.

He never lets you stay, and has an excuse ready every time you suggest pulling out your jammies. Sometimes it’s a early morning gym session at 5 am. Sometimes it’s an over inquisitive maid who can’t mind her own business. Sometimes it’s an Uber he booked for you when you were cleaning up in the bathroom.

He likes his boys just like he likes his chardonnay.

Free flowing, and out of his system the next morning.

He doesn’t see the point of crossword puzzles, middle school trigonometry or commitment.

He downloads Grindr Xtra just so he can get unlimited blocks.

And an unlimited pass into everyone’s pants.

At some point in your relationship, he’ll tell you that you are the One.

He’ll also tell the same thing to Rizwan. To Sam. To Kabir. To Nikhil. To Rahul. To Kiran. To Sameer. To Zishaan.

He breaks up with you eventually, because ‘he’s not good enough for you, and you deserve better,’ He doesn’t reply to your texts, phone calls (and that one long winding drunken email) after.

That’s the thing.

The F**kboy will only lead you to another one. And another one. And another one. He’ll lead you through a string of bad decisions, heartbreak and life-altering mistakes.

You’ll sigh every time, but you’ll never learn.

Now go message your Atul.

The Five Other Guys You Will Meet On Grindr

 

5 other grindr guys

We’ve already established that Grindr is a supermarket for gay men.

Whether you are shopping for turnips or torsos, you’d find some templates that will never fade away, just like the hickey from last Christmas — you’ve stared at the Torso’s six pack abs, shared salted peanuts with the Tourist and had your stress spots worked on by the Masseur, all in a previous version of The Five Different Guys You Meet On Grindr.

But has there ever been a dearth of men (and stereotypes) on everyone’s favourite hookup app?

Not really. While you haggle over beets and biceps at your neighborhood supermarket of sex, here are an additional five guys we’ve all had a dalliance with on Grindr:

1. The Druggie

The druggie comes in all shapes and sizes — tall, short, rugged, lean, stocky, smooth, and hairy — all marked by their characteristic glazed expression, and a nose that sniffs (but never runs). What does he run instead? His very own drug cartel on your friendly dating app — he’s sort of like Pablo Escobar, but without the killing and the love for cigars. The Druggie replaces his ‘Hi’s with ‘High Fun’s and always wants to know whether your ‘MDMA got you feelin’ like a champion.’ He sells everything from poppers to crystal meth (and even weed, to the less adventurous) and for the record, will only feel like breaking the bed when he’s Breaking Bad.

At the end of a really fast drug-fuelled day, our resident thrill seeker can only promise you one of two things — three hours of happiness or a trip to the urologist.

Either way, you might need a one-way ticket to rehab.

2. The Sapiosexual

If you eagerly text the Sapiosexual thinking that you’ll be able to have an in-depth debate about Syria’s refugee crisis or Rumi’s soulful poetry, you are almost certainly going to be disappointed. Being a sapiosexual, he craves intelligence, but you don’t need to ask the dictionary what it means, because he’ll tell you himself. However, a few texts with Mr Intelligent, and you’d realise that the only interesting thing about our friend here is the fact that he actually believes that Math will arouse him.

The word Sapiosexual is thrown around as casually as the phrase ‘sane and sorted’ on Grindr. It’s a security blanket he uses to keep the douchebags away, but he’s not fully aware that it makes him sound like one himself. The sapiosexual doesn’t throw any big words your way; he only throws questions — ‘what do u do?’, ‘Whr do u liv?’, ‘wnna meet nw?’ — for someone who craves intelligence, he doesn’t crave grammar much. But what else can you expect from someone who would confuse Stephen Hawking with Stephen Fry?

At the end of the day, how do you tell the sapiosexual from someone who can actually have an interesting conversation? Exactly six sentences in, he throws the quintessential question your way:
‘Do u has a dick pic?’

And that’s when you toss your brains out.

3. The Spambot

With his blonde hair, ripped body and good-natured face, the Spambot is your classic all-American frat boy. If he’s not flashing his dentist-approved smile, he’s probably flashing his washboard abs — his picture usually has him grinning cockily into a bathroom mirror, flashing both, with an expression that says, ‘Hey! What’s up? Are you ready for some lovin’?’

The spambot is thus, the perfect fix for your weekend. Only, he’s not real.

He begins with a simple, succinct ‘How do you do?’ and then trudges through a series of deeply NSFW sexts irrespective of how you respond. As you continue playing your very confusing game of textual table tennis, he asks you (very seductively) if you wish to watch him jerk off on his webcam. You politely refuse, but he sends you a dubious link anyway — one that would probably give your phone the digital version of Herpes.

The only giveaway to the Spambot’s otherwise blank profile? His height, listed at a meek 123 cms.

4. The Ghost

The Ghost is the Ranveer Singh of Grindr — he’s funny, not LOL funny, but actual ‘laugh out loud’ funny. The man gets pop culture references and sometimes, even plays Ping-Pong with them. He likes cats, loves Korean food and Netflix binges more shows than you do. He disses Haruki Murakami and swears by your favourite Margaret Atwood book. He’s someone you slowly see yourself spending the rest of your life with, as you text flirt with each other through countless late nights. Why is such a great guy single, you wonder?

And just when you are deciding whether you should buy matching towels or not, he disappears on you.

‘Hello?’
‘Hello?’
‘Hello?’

He’s gone without a trace, retreating into the ones and zeros to haunt another corner of the digital universe. That night as you cry yourself to sleep, you realise you’ll never see him again.

5. The One

The One is the perfect man you’ve been dreaming about, right since you bumped into your first Not Pictured (from our original five guys you meet on Grindr) — he’s the Prince Charming you get at the end of the really dark, depressing tunnel.

And it’s been a long ride indeed. The One’s dating profile is the missing jigsaw piece to yours. He’s everything The Ghost was and more. You click with him immediately, and give him your number even before your first conversation is over. He furiously texts you over the next few days until you work up the courage to call him one night, right after you down a few shots to calm your nerves.

His voice is the deep baritone you imagined. You giggle at all the right spots as he sets up a date (in a decently expensive restaurant where they serve soup in small plates). When you do meet each other, you realize that you are hopelessly falling in love. He’s your ‘everything perfect’. What do you tell people when they ask you how you met?

You’ll lie and tell people that you met while in the line at Starbucks, and you’ll continue your whirlwind romance right until the very end. But what do you do if it doesn’t work out with the One?

Well, there’s a Two, a Three, a Four and so on.

The Guysexual’s Guide to Every Gay Man’s Treasure Chest of One Liners

 

Guilty

Gay men are a lot of things.

We might come in a variety of shapes and sizes, and have temperaments as diverse as the cast of Grey’s Anatomy, but it all boils down to one thing in the end — as homosexual men, we are a storehouse of corny one-liners, sassy quips and stereotypical jokes that’ll put all the Kardashian Sisters (even the new ones) to shame. Don’t believe me?

Well, whether you are a red-blooded activist who churns out slogans for breakfast, or a social butterfly who sleeps when it’s time to have breakfast, it’s a given that we’ve all been guilty of having said at least a few of these (often cringe worthy) well-worded gems:

Continue reading The Guysexual’s Guide to Every Gay Man’s Treasure Chest of One Liners

Meet The Men 3.0: The Sapiosexual

Sapiosexual firstpost

 

Ranveir, 27, is a high-profile accountant with a high-profile MNC.
And yes, that’s how he describes himself.

He likes his matcha tea and his sourdough bread, and twice a month, he likes walking his dog on weekends. Ranveir guffaws at racist jokes, and occasionally ghosts a nice guy because ‘things are moving too fast, and I can’t handle all the expectations of this relationship’.

While the fact that he spells his name that way might ring a warning bell, something else seals the deal.

Ranveir is a self-proclaimed sapiosexual. How does it change anything?

Let’s get it straight. The word sapiosexual is thrown around as casually as the phrase ’sane and sorted’ is used on Grindr. It’s a security blanket used by boys to keep the douchebags away (completely unaware that it makes them sound like one too), assuming it’s going to draw in a string of smart, suave and eligible men straight to the bedroom (and beyond). But that’s the thing.

All the smart, suave, eligible men are taken.
And they don’t call themselves sapiosexuals.

Continue reading Meet The Men 3.0: The Sapiosexual