2 Become 1

Gay dating, in our experience, is best summed up as a cesspool of gluttonous sex fiends. There are, of course, exceptions to this swamp of dating prospects. Peter and I have both made some wonderful friends from our experience in the gay dating scene. But consistent with our own experiences, our friends also lament about the difficulty in gay dating.

Though there may be reasons aplenty, one in particular rises to the top: that modern gay men are non-committal when it comes to romance. This particular stereotype is pervasive, but not without good reason. In our opinions, it is reinforced by a toxic environment subsisting of 1) strong, if not singular, emphasis on superficial qualities and 2) relentless celebration of sexual liberation. It should be noted, however, that the entirety of this article is written from the perspective of a self-proclaimed prude.

Within the gay community, there seems to exist a very real hierarchy of desirability, which is further subdivided into categories (e.g., ‘labels’ based on physical stereotype). There is such a strong preponderance for the conventionally attractive and an emphasis on appearance. Certainly, it could be said that dating across all groups places some degree of importance on physicality, but only in gay men do you see such a large proportion of individuals all striving to fit the same few molds. In no other dating pool would such abrasive criteria (akin to “no fems, no fats, no Asians”) be so commonplace on dating profiles.

And of course, the advent of dating apps only amplifies and intensifies this tendency: the ease of discarding people with a simple swipe to the left, often based on nothing more than the pictures and a few scant words on their profile. Technology, and born of it these dating apps, continues to diminish the amount (and arguably, quality) of real-life interactions. In an existence where we seek out and thrive in stable relationships, we increasingly turn toward self-gratification and away from potential connection.

Of all the dating apps, however, there is/was one in particular that took the gay community by storm. To call refer to it as a “dating app” at this point is generous. The app in reference here, of course, is Grindr, one of the first apps dedicated exclusively to finding sex and hook ups. Grindr has since cemented itself into not only gay culture but popular culture, an emblem of the LGBT community.

While more conventional dating apps employed predatory tactics to keep you on and swiping for longer, Grindr did not even feign attempt at real human connection. There’s a lot to be said about sexual liberation and undoing the impositions of societal norms or expectations. However, Grindr has normalized (and often encouraged) within gay culture the harmlessness of casual sex—something once held with great meaning now literally at one’s fingertips. I am not convinced that human beings have evolved (enough?) to manage the psychic distress that comes with it.

We don’t find casual sex or hookup culture to be morally or ethically egregious. Rather, people are and should be allowed to do with their bodies as they please when it comes to consenting adults. Sex is a very primitive and biological drive after all. It is the literal and physical merging of two individuals in a process of procreation.

But for much of humanity’s history, sex served as a symbolic merging of two people in addition to the physical merging. In sex, there is a dissolution of our ego boundaries, meaning we give in to the vulnerabilities of closeness with another; there is a deep and mutual respect for the other person. Sex is the vestibule to becoming one yet still remain two separate people and underlines the concept of being apart yet a part of each other.

Compulsive sex on the other hand is not about the other person: it is about the self in a pursuit of gratification. It is a means of purely physical release. Naturally then, these arrangements can quickly dissolve to a dynamic of user and used. Unsurprisingly, compulsive sex also results in the reduction of the person to just a body part. Sex itself can then be considered fetishized without the romantic component, wherein individuals are interested literally only in the parts, and not the person.

On the extreme end, we find connections that start veering on psychologically sadist-masochist qualities. The sadist who derives pleasure from the complete engulfment of the other, the masochist. This is underlined by the fear of isolation: the sadist with the need to enlarge oneself or the masochist with the need to be engulfed. This is an absolute abolishment of any ego boundary and represents a complete merger—neither stable nor healthy for individual beings. As a result, there is not a relationship built on respect for the other, but of two individuals using the other in a desperate grasp for fulfillment.

This is the ultimate peril that has overcome the gay dating scene—the inability to form meaningful relationships while chasing physical release. We’ve continually reinforced within ourselves that this pattern is harmless. In recent times, there appears to be a small (but growing) pushback against this self-destruction. Perhaps it is the natural equilibration in human behavior, as more people come to the stark realization that compulsive sex does not absolve us of loneliness, but often compounds it.

When our method of relating to others is only self-serving, we unconsciously view them as an object that can provide us something. We then miss the value in making genuine connections simply because they are ultimately understood as impermanent or meaningless. In essence, we succumb to and justify the idea that this one sexual encounter is meaningless—just a form of biological release. But isn’t everything in life impermanent?

I am of the opinion that each small interaction, no matter how seemingly meaningless, has the opportunity to be internalized and enrich our lives. We need to take these small opportunities to relate to people as they are. It is so easy, especially with dating apps, to discard others without ever meeting them. And with an app as insidious as Grindr, it allows for people to easily discard, demean, and diminish others before or even after meeting them. Though we bear the responsibility of our individual happiness, we have now come to a place in which we design our own suffering and loneliness.