So this past Saturday, right? I’m sitting on the couch in my hotel room and killing time on Tinder waiting for a trolley to pick me up for a wedding, and I come across this buff bro type named Benjamin with the perfect amount of facial hair and I swipe right and It’s a match! and he messages me.
- Benjamin: oops lol
Twelve minutes of silence…
- Benjamin: this happens sometimes, it’s weird
At first I thought he said “oops lol” as in “I MEANT TO SWIPE LEFT BECAUSE YOU’RE GROSS lol,” which hurt my feelings and stunned me into the twelve minutes of silence you see noted above, but then when he followed up with that second message I was just confused.
- Me: wait what? What happens sometimes?
- Benjamin: I’m not gay lol. But idk sometimes guys show up in my feed and I guess I’m an aggressive swiper
- Benjamin: the last time this happened the guy took my third photo a little too seriously and asked me if I wanted a bj haha
So of course I go and look at his third photo, and it’s of a random sign on a fence that reads: Ready. Set. Blow!
- Me: LOL oh, gotcha. Yeah sometimes Tinder puts girls in my feed and I’ll have a mild identity crisis. Not gonna lie, that third picture of yours is intriguing haha
- Benjamin: ha
So at this point I’m fairly certain it’s over, but then after a few minutes he’s baaack.
- Benjamin: You ever suck a straight dude’s cock?
- Me: Uhh
- Me: maybe in college? now I only give head to get head haha
- Benjamin: lol I see
- Benjamin: You’re saying I’d have to suck yours too? lol
- Benjamin: I might be willing to try
Okay. If you weren’t just like, “WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON? THIS IS ALL SO ABRUPT!” as you read that, then I’m going to go ahead and assume that you run in some fucked up circles. Because seriously, what the fuck was going on? It was all so abrupt!
A sick part of me was intrigued, though. And he was cute. And I mean, who knows, I figured. Maybe sexually flirting with a closeted/questioning straight man on Tinder will be a great, emotionally healthy thing to do! Plus the wedding trolley was running late.
- Me: haha REALLY?
- Benjamin: maybe
- Me: well I’d probably be too chickenshit to meet you IRL anyways
- Me: I’ve seen enough TV to know that being lured into a strange setting on the promise of straight dick can be dangerous
- Me: I don’t want to get gay bashed!!!
- Benjamin: lol
- Benjamin: no I understand
- Benjamin: so do you have a nice dick?
First of all, how insufferable am I with the whole making-light-of-gay-bashings talk up there? But it was an actual concern I had, and that’s why talking to closeted/questioning straight men on Tinder is never a good idea — you’ll totally wonder if he’s serious or if he’s like, acting on some kind of gang initiation dare where he has to lure a gay guy into a strange setting with the promise of straight dick and then maim him. It was a dark scenario to contemplate, but luckily, as you can see above, he asked me about the quality of my genitals before I could fully explore it.
- Me: I’ve never had any complaints haha
- Me: You???
- Benjamin: about 7
- Me: nice
How hilarious is it that we’re both grown men here? Like, as I’m reenacting these messages I’m legit thinking to myself, “OMG HIGH SCHOOL DELUXE,” which is both sad and also evidence that people never actually grow up and everything is just a façade. (Wait was that deep?)
- Benjamin: you have Snapchat?
- Me: yeah my name is ctnicolas
- Benjamin: send me a pic of it
- Me: my wedding trolley is here! Argh right when this was getting good
Saved by the fucking trolley, am I right? I mean, as much as I enjoyed our bizarre spur-of-the-moment exchange, I’m not about that dick pic life. Even though I’m pretty sure I gave him my Snapchat name because I wanted to get a pic of his dick, but whatever, I’m a hypocrite, YOLO.
After I logged off Tinder, I got two notifications indicating that Benjamin had messaged me. By then I was in wedding mode, though, so I didn’t sign back in to look, figuring that he probably just said “lol ok ttyl” and I could go back to our conversation later in the evening after I got white girl wasted at the open bar.
Flash-forward to later in the evening when I’m white girl wasted at the open bar:
BENJAMIN IS GONE.
Like, his profile is not in my matches anymore. Our entire message history has vanished. It’s like he was never there. Like he didn’t even exist.
You may be wondering how I was able to so accurately quote the conversation throughout this post without the actual transcript for reference, and the answer there is that I was obviously writing this post in my head from the very first moment Benjamin brought his penis into the discussion, so I was grasping tightly to the contours of pretty much every line we exchanged right from the start. (Though I didn’t have the foresight to screen-shot it before he went all fucking Houdini on me, but lesson learned.)
I told my best friend Fran this whole story the next morning over coffee.
“Yeah, dude, it was so weird,” I said. “Like, ‘Ever sucked a straight dude’s dick? POOF I’m GONE!’ He deleted his entire Tinder profile because of me.”
“Or he just blocked you,” she dryly retorted. “Oh! Did I just stomp on your self-importance?”
It was kind of insulting but mostly hilarious, because it was true.
So in conclusion, I don’t know. This whole situation was bizarre and crazy and yet another example of the sad, strange world we live in. Mostly I just feel for Benjamin, because I know we’re all on a different journey in this life and sexuality isn’t always black and white and so who the hell knows, maybe he’s bisexual and needs to figure that shit out via a spontaneous Tinder beej. Or maybe he’s gay and tortured. Or maybe he’s straight and was just having a moment like the one I had that time I flirted with a beautiful girl at a straight bar all night and we almost decided to go back to her place to “just get naked and see what happens” but didn’t.
Or maybe — actually? — it’s none of my damn business. But then again, neither is the length of his dick. And yet somehow I know it’s “about 7.”
The Internet is so weird.
