Woof: Gay Romance in the 21st Century
“Cheers!” I exclaimed, raising a $25 glass of rosé to Theodore. (FYI, there are no happy hour prices on the patio at Cardero’s, you pay for the view.) “Cheers!” he replied, the next sound being a clink.
Sitting back in my chair, I took a sip of wine, and breathed a sigh of relief that my date looked like his profile picture, if not better. I read the fine trim of his beard as handsome, the full frame of his square glasses as sophisticated. Tracing my finger down the page, I discovered the details of his sharp outfit: a navy-blue polo, relaxed beige chinos, and polished brown wingtips.
“This view never disappoints, does it?” I started off the conversation with comfort and ease.
In another life, I would like to tell you that I met Theodore J. Nelson when the two of us reached for the same bottle of wine at the liquor store. Or maybe it was a used bookstore, and like a hero, he saved me from the brink of hardcover collapse. Like most gay men in 2021, however, the two of us met online. While we did not meet on Grindr, we did connect on SCRUFF, which I suppose is more promising than Squirt.
“It is truly exceptional,” said Theodore, putting on his sunglasses. “I must admit it has been a while since I have been down here. So, tell me! How are you?” His excitement was contagious. His charm, affable.
I feel like it is important to take a brief moment to describe to you the difference between Grindr, SCRUFF, and Squirt. This will be helpful to anyone not well versed in the world of gay hook-up apps.
Grindr, with 13 million users worldwide, is like a carnival. Excessive, indulgent, and costly, it is not a place you walk away from without a twinge of regret. While plenty of good times can be had, one must proceed with caution. For this masquerade is more often than not just that – an optical illusion.
SCRUFF, on the other hand, while similar in design and use, is more like a zoo. Not nearly as obsessed with chiseled physiques, the men featured here are older, hairier, and body positive. Home to bears, cubs, otters, wolves, chickens, and foxes – what you see is what you get.
And Squirt? I can’t speak to personal experience on this one – or at least I will never admit it. I have heard though *wink wink* one simply has to log on to find the nearest public bathroom, truck stop, or walking trail where unmentionable pleasure can be found. Back to the date!
“Looking each other in the eyes, there was a pause. I wondered what move he would make next.”
“I am well thanks!” I replied, taking a small sip of wine, ever so slowly. I am always mindful of The Millionaire Matchmaker Patti Stanger’s sage advice about dating. “Thou shall not drink too much on the first date.”
“How was your trip to New York?” I asked him, casually. While remaining cool as a cucumber, this strategic question was my first card on the table to show him I was interested. If you are serious about getting the job, you never show up to an interview without doing your research. As it happened, I briefly glimpsed his IG the night before. At the top of his feed, recent photos of a walk on the High Line.
“It was a great trip! I absolutely love New York,” he said. “I was there for work.”
Looking each other in the eyes, there was a pause. I wondered what move he would make next. Either he’d think I was a crazy stalker who was spying on him, guilty as charged, or he’d find my homework flattering.
“I noticed we like a lot of the same books,” he continued. “I’m curious to know your thoughts on Middlesex. It is my favourite of Jeffrey Eugenides’ works.”
Not only did he play the right card, but he also played the winning hand.
Stupefied, I looked over to the Westin Bayshore hotel across the water. Only half a glass in on this date, and I was ready to check into a room, get naked, and discuss my thoughts on modern literature in depth.
Suppressing the urge to jump up and down, I took a deep breath, crossed my legs, and straightened my back. Then leaning into him, I said, “You know I tried but I could never quite get into The Marriage Plot.”
From there the conversation continued and it did not stop. Before I knew it, our bill was paid, and we were outside the restaurant kissing each other with reckless abandon. And then, just like that, I was in a cab, running late for my dinner with Claire and Mark.
“How did you two meet again?” she asked, passing me a white wine spritzer as I walked in the front door.
While Mark cooked dinner and tiny Jack ran around with his dinosaurs, I picked up the pooch CLARK.
“I met him on SCRUFF,” I answered, still flushed. “Woof.”
