In a Sea of Dicks

I just deleted Grindr. It consumed me. Every day, for hours, I’d be on it—hunting for men. Most days it ended in a random hookup, even when I wasn’t horny. It became less about desire and more about habit, like reaching for your phone when you’re bored, except the stakes were higher.

Grindr works like a slot machine—variable ratio reinforcement. You keep swiping, not knowing if you’ll get nothing or a big win (a super hot guy). That unpredictability is pure dopamine. Sometimes you pull the trigger 100 times, and nothing happens. Other times, you strike gold. So you keep checking. But most of the time, it’s like opening the fridge over and over, hoping something new appears. And late at night, you shove in whatever you find, desperately looking for satisfaction.

Some nights, I’d wake up at 4 a.m. to pee, and like muscle memory, I’d open Grindr. One swipe turned into hours, and I’d trade sleep for some soulless hookup with zombie men who’d already been on it for countless hours. I’d kiss them and taste the mephedrone on their lips. The third time they offered it, I’d cave, take a line, and watch my day spiral. My goals? Gone. My plans? On hold.

It wasn’t just at home. I’d travel to a new city, excited to explore, but the first thing I’d do was open Grindr. If you’ve been there, you know the rush—hundreds of messages, invitations, offers. All that attention. Hours vanish. And instead of seeing a new place, you end up in another stranger’s bedroom, another bed you’ll forget by tomorrow.

Casual sex became so routine that I had to remind myself: I can just jerk off. Not every urge needs an app. Not every quiet moment needs distraction. Honestly, I can barely remember most of the guys because I wasn’t using Grindr to connect. I was using it to escape—loneliness, boredom, or simply to disassociate.

And then there are the drugs. Grindr is my biggest trigger for those situations. I’d show up for sex, but temptation would always be there. When someone offers persistently, when you want it, when they want you to be “on the same level,” it’s hard to say no.

Deleting Grindr isn’t just about reclaiming time. It’s about reclaiming myself. My challenge for 2025 is this: six months off Grindr and drugs. Six months to recondition my brain, rebuild my habits, and have a healthier relationship with sex and my needs. I’ll allow myself to use Hinge—because hookups aren’t the problem. The problem is the toxic cycle I let myself fall into.

So what will I do with all this time? I’ll get serious about the gym again—train hard, eat right, and push myself. I’ll read books I’ve neglected. Meditate. Meet friends I’ve drifted from. See places with clear eyes, not through the haze of late-night swipes. I’ll journal more.

If you know who I am, reach out. This shit is lonely sometimes, and I could use some support. But I’m done chasing dopamine in dark rooms with strangers. I want more, and I’m ready to work for it.

Saturday. A day party. I’m dancing shirtless, enjoying the feeling of the pill I swallowed. Kissed a few boys—nothing too exciting.

Then I saw him. Out of the corner of my eye. Gorgeous beyond belief, intimidatingly so. I knew who he was—I’d been following his Insta for a while. One of the popular ones. Yes, of course, there are the thirst traps, but he also shared thoughtful things, so maybe there’s more to him than just a pretty frame.

I figured I had to take my chances, and did I see him looking in my direction and smiling? Yes. A short, shy smile. But enough to make me push my way through the crowd and dance next to him.

We’re talking, and soon enough, I feel his muscular body on mine. He tells me he’s shy, doesn’t wanna kiss in public. Eventually, though, he relaxes, and his lips touch mine. Like an electric shock shooting through my system. Is this real?

I know I’m popular and fit the gay stereotype—muscular, short hair, tall, handsome face. Like him. And yet, my heart starts beating like crazy when I approach guys I find attractive. I keep my cool, though, and the more we talk, the more I bring him down from the pedestal my mind put him on.

He asks me what my plans are after the party. I tell him I wanna go home with this handsome man right here, and he’s just like, “Correct answer.”

We leave the party early. The ride home is long, and the more we talk, the more I discover a shy, smart, driven man who has his shit together. He drops the shyness as soon as we step into my apartment, and suddenly, I’m the one who’s nervous.

I love sex. I’m good at it, and it’s easy for me to relax. Helps that I’m usually in control. But with him… I liked him so much. I was putting pressure on myself. We end up talking and having sex the whole night, only falling asleep as the sun comes up. Such a perfect night. It's been years since I felt so comfortable with a man so quickly.

You know when something just feels too good to be true? Something in him flipped the next day. He tells me he wants to be my friend, but without the sex. He can’t date right now—there’s too much going on in his life. He feels embarrassed by how much he shared, and so on.

I couldn’t hide my disappointment and wanted to cry. Sure, it’s just one night, but feelings aren’t something you can always control.

He left my place, and I don’t know if I’m gonna see him again. I’m not gonna be just your friend when I’m developing feelings for you. Maybe he’s just scared. Maybe I should risk it. Maybe this is his way of slowing things down.

Maybe this isn’t the end of our story just yet.

When I came to London last year, I really struggled with chemsex. It feels omnipresent, so normalized that not participating makes you feel like an outsider in the community. It carried me through the night, from one sexual encounter to the next. All day, all night. It makes you feel strong, confident, hard—almost superhuman.

There’s always a price, though. My wake-up call came when someone at a chill asked if I could still have sober sex. Back then, I was very new in the city and found the thought ridiculous. Of course I can! What kind of question is that? Then you reflect on how often it really happens… the weekends are a blur, you dance the night away, then end up at someone’s house, and before you realize, it’s Sunday evening again.

So I got myself help. My therapist uses dialectical behavior therapy (DBT) with me. It teaches that two seemingly contradictory things can both be true. For example, accepting oneself and striving to change can coexist, which helps build self-acceptance and reduces feelings of invalidation. DBT is especially effective for depression, eating disorders, and substance abuse.

Him being a more experienced gay man who went through similar struggles, we connect very well. He makes me feel understood, never judges, and puts up the mirror from time to time. I’ve learned a lot—about myself, about triggers, the erotic desire cycle, stages of horniness, how to say no, and most of all, being kind to myself.

Those drugs are confidence in power form. They also rip away all the confidence I had when doing sober sex. The other day, I met someone who checked all my attraction boxes. Big. Hairy. Confident. A smile that makes me melt. His hungry eyes were eating me before we even got naked. Jackpot. And I find myself fucking him, struggling even as I am so turned on. And out of the depths of my unconscious, my brain, almost like a small devil popping up at my shoulder, delivers the solution: “Just take some Mephedrone, you’ll perform so much better.”

Luckily, it was 11am on a Wednesday. I had plans. I’m not gonna fuck my day by getting high there. And even…! As if coming fast is a problem. We cuddle a bit, and go for a second round. It’s okay not to be superhuman. There’s no jury that will judge me based on performance here. Plus, the feeling was mutual.

Going back to sober sex is like taking the wheels off when you first learn biking as a kid. Where there was confidence and racing, there’s now some wobbliness. It’s a bit harder. It requires genuine connection. I might not be hard all the time. That’s okay. I will be kind to myself. It’s a learning experience.

Soon enough, I’ll race again. 🚲

Just as I’m sitting here, trying to grasp what just happened and this insanely sexy Brazilian is leaving, I wonder what makes the difference between alright sex and amazing sex?

Optics certainly play a big part. A good body feels amazing, but what you really fuck is a handsome face. I’d rather have sex with someone cute with a more average body than a pornstar with a fuckface.

Even more important is the kissing. Some guys are terrible at it (seriously, wtf?), many are alright, some are good and very few are let-me-forget-the-world amazing. Amazing kissing requires feeling into the partner, find a common rhythm, lead and follow, dance with the tongues. Kissing is a great indicator of how the sex is going to be. If that one doesn’t feel good, I’d rather call it off than trying to have sex.

Ultimately, it’s about energy and confidence. A guy that knows he’s sexy, that can enjoy himself, that knows how to give and take, and is not shy to be loud when he enjoys the play. There’s a fine line between confidence and over-confidence. What you don’t want is someone that believes he’s hotter than the world, and that he’s doing you a favour (or just hasn't found anyone better yet).

Dick size certainly plays a part... if it’s too small, being bottom just isn’t fun, but much more importantly is the strength. I take a normal-sized, really hard dick anytime over a massive one that doesn’t get super hard. Being fucked by one of these just feels like reverse shitting. Yes, you are being filled, but they're not really doing any of the damage we are seeking.

Similar, being a great bottom requires some trust that the other guy cares. If a guy can’t relax, it’s gonna be hard to fuck proper, it will hurt more, the angle sucks, and it’s overall a frustrating experience. And – as the bottom – it requires the ability to lean a bit into the pain. The best fucks are when I can’t fathom my life as this hod stud on top of me is rearranging my guts, there’s points where it hurts, but I know that he feels my reaction and just pushes me to the limit, not above. Mindless hammering into a hole isn’t great sex. If your man does that, he probably watched too much porn or never bottomed. The best tops are vers.

Mister today had a good size, slightly smaller than mine, but he more than compensated for this with being chill, being in the now, grabbing me hard, and understanding the dominance game. And when it came to pounding me, he’d give me these intense looks.

Nothing is more unsexy to me than if you try to push my head down to make me wanna suck you. That’s so cheap. Instead, lie on the bed, give me a lustful look and let me explore your body. Trust me, I’ll find your dick and hole, and I’ll suck and eat your ass until your eyes roll up and turn white.

Also... chill! Nobody needs 84 different sex positions. The basics are all you need. Chest on chest, lots of body contact, kissing and eye contact while pounding, or flip over and grab him hard while you are inside him. Doggy for some mirror porn, you don’t need anything else. At least I don’t. These are perfect, they make me feel really connected with my playmate and they are comfortable. A pillow under the butt does wonders for the angle.

We gays often take drugs to make sex better... yet if you think of it, does it really get better? Yes, it helps to cum harder, but the result often is that simply nobody is cuming, leaving both parties unsatisfied. Monkey-brain also has a hard time being in the now — it always wants more. More men. More drugs. More of everything! We end up half the time on our phone, trying to invite more guys, which in almost all cases doesn’t make things better and is just a giant waste of time.

Mister today was here for two hours. We didn’t even take a break, other than a quick glass of water. No phones, no Grindr, no midway-douching, no drugs, no smoking, nothing. If we needed a breather we just cuddled and hugged each other.

We didn’t just share sex, we shared intimacy.

I’m not hiding the fact that I love escorts. It’s simple, efficient and they always come when you text them. What I didn’t expect is that one of them would love bomb me so hard, that I end up asking him for a date.

But let’s start from the beginning. Another rainy weekend horny and bored, I been browsing the catalog (aka RentMen). There’s this one guy who is incredibly handsome, HUGE, and overall looks like a handsome teddy bear that is going to f the shit out of you.

The only problem? He’s top only. At least that’s what he says. I ended up trying my luck and (for a slightly higher price) he said he’s gonna bottom for me.

That alone made my day. I looooove to pound tops. I have a good thick tool, I’m not giving them a beginner treatment. They get it all. And they usually go crazy because it’s an experience they don’t have every day. Also, dare I say, I know what I’m doing.

It started right in the elevator. That teddy bear face commented on how handsome I am and started giving me a kiss. Compliment after compliment, this gorgeous Brazilian blew through all my defenses, so far that I got nervous and couldn’t even get properly hard.

I mean, not that it would have mattered much. I’m usually the dominant part, so when we got things going in bed, I started doing my thing. He simply didn’t move and whispered in my ear “we aren’t doing that just yet” and continued with his program. Uhhhh. In most cases I’d try to keep control, but he just had the right word for every situation and I was like butter in his hands.

When his hammer started to mercilessly force its way in and slowly but steadily increased in speed and force, I was in heaven. Those kisses, that intense stare, and this subtle stream of compliments that no man gave me before were just too much.

“I love the way you kiss.” “You feel so good.” “I love your smell.” “You are sooo handsome.”

And it’s not just the words, it’s also the way he said it, whispering it in my ear while he was holding me tight and being in me. How could anyone not melt?

Plus, he kept asking what I do and if I’m single and how long... this man. Ouffffff. That can’t possibly be fake, can it? No escort ever did this to me, and why would they? They want customers, not someone asking them out for a date.

So the next day when I woke up and still smelled and felt him, I had to reach out.

“I wanna see you again” “You’ve got my contact. “Hmm okay. Maybe I was just high.” “What do you mean?” “Sorry. I fell for this connection talk and thought you’d be interested for a date.”

(No response anymore)

Since this gorgeous hunk kept occupying my thoughts, I tried once again. Being more direct and asking him for a dinner, reiterating that our connection was special

(No response)

At this point, I was just utterly confused. Why do this to me? Why fake such an intense connection? Can this even be faked? But if it was real, why would you ghost me? And what stupid strategy is that, since it’s unlikely that I gonna let him fuck with my mind again.

Well, that should have been the end of the story, but I just had to know. So months later, another high night, I invited him again. This time, prepared...

So after some fun, I finally asked him why he didn’t reply and why he would fake such things.

“Oh, nothing was fake. I really felt this connection. Everything I said, I meant. Where you’re wrong is what the next step is going to be. I’m not looking for a date, or a boyfriend. This here is my job, I’m quite happy on my own and my lifestyle makes it hard to have a partner, so I’m not looking.”

But why did you ghost me?

“I did read your text, and I was busy so I wanted to reply later. And then I forgot. This happens quite some time to me, and I apologise.”

Heck, can’t even be mad about this. I’m absolutely the same, as some of my friends know (and complain) about.

“Do you get this more often? That clients fall for you?”

“Yes... it happens more than you think. When I’m with someone, I give them 100% of my attention. I listen what they say, I am in the now. I don’t look at my phone. It confuses people, because so few actually do that. They are on their phone and their thoughts wander elsewhere. When I’m with someone, I’m just there for this person. It confuses people.”

In the end, I have to thank him. Teaching an old dog new tricks isn’t easy, but I’ve learned quite a bit from his ways. So be careful, bois.

I met this boi in the gym. How many stories start like this?

We talked a bit before on Insta, and I already worked out with his boyfriend. His man is cute, but him... god damn! I liked his online profile, yet things are always different when you meet up in person.

You know when you see someone and you just HAVE TO have him? When those handsome Latino eyes are looking at you and you get this electric feeling? When the touches are slightly too long and a bit more than necessary?

In the straight world, the story would likely end here or lead to something that could hurt people. We're gay though and can deal with the duality that is love and lust. I DESIRE him so much. I don't have the feeling we'd be great boyfriends. We're gonna be amazing lovers though.

Since I consider myself an ethical hoe, I asked about their relationship rules and... (omg yes!) they are open. Of course, there are rules, what I wanna do to him is all allowed though. Just a matter of days until we find an evening where we both have time. Not for a quick hookup, but for spending some quality time together. Will we rip our clothes off as soon as the door locks? Absolutely.

He says he's a vers top. Just like me. My favorite combination. Keeps things interesting. Will I dominate our dance or will he give me a fight? Will he be rough or go slow? Will I go first, or will I let him take me?

I already took a sniff of his scent at the gym, and I can't wait to dig my face into his hairy sweaty butt. Lick his balls and smell his cock, a blend of sweat, piss, and pheromones. We're both pigs, that much I asked, so we gonna gym before we get naked. Things are just better when there's some flavor.

The best part? I haven't seen his nudes yet. In a world of Grindr, this is the anomaly, not the norm, and it's so hot. Is he big? Curved? Completely straight like a candle? Does he shave his butt, or do I get my hairy ass?

I can't wait. Anticipation is wonderful.