Epic GrindrFails: Vol. 2

It was recently brought to my attention that Manhunt thinks I’m one of the hottest guys on their site. Well that’s a new one. I’d honestly forgotten I even had a profile on there until I received this email from them the other day:

“Hey there! We love your look, and we’re sure a lot of our users would agree! We’d like to feature you as one of our hottest members. This will include one picture (only your public pictures would be used) and a link to your Manhunt profile featured on our blogs and social networks.”

My ego would like to extend a sincere thank you for the boost of confidence.

But really, Manhunt, thanks. I’ll take the compliment.

I mean, who knows…perhaps some Prince Charming in a Maserati (or on a yacht) will see this and be like “Well helloooooooooo, future husband material!” and come speeding/sailing to rescue me from my high-rise tower on Lake Michigan.

One can dream, right?

So here I was, sitting around avoiding folding my Mount Everest-sized pile of laundry engulfing my bed when *ping* – in comes an email from Manhunt showcasing it’s hottest members of the week. Soon after, my phone started pinging more frequently alerting me that my Prince Charming wannabes were sending me messages. Well that was fast.

However…the first message sent me into a fit of laughter and reminded me how ridiculously barbaric some men are. If you thought there was no hope for humanity, you’re probably right based on some of these conversations. I can’t help but shake my head in disgust while laughing to myself as I take a screenshot. So on that note, I present to you Round 2 of some of the more ridiculous messages I’ve received lately on Grindr, Manhunt, and other such apps. 

So upon being named one of Manhunt’s Hottest Members of the Week, I received the following message:

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With a total of 1,555 messages in my inbox, it’s apparently that I clearly haven’t been paying attention to Manhunt for quite some time.

So let’s analyze this.

A. Thank you for the compliment. I appreciate that you think I’m handsome.
B. Rough means exactly that. I like it rough sometimes. Don’t we all?
C. I have no idea what an “SM Top” is, but if you don’t fuck, how are you a top?
D. I have zero interest in being flogged/whipped.
E. I’ve been told “Don’t knock it till you try it” when it comes to fisting by a friend who does porn, however I appreciate having a fully-functional back door so I won’t be trying this.
F. TT and CBT? Are we talking about an Audi TT? I’m guessing no, and I really don’t want to find out.

To answer your question: No. I have no interest in playing. Especially since you’re old enough to be my grandfather.

So there’s that.

With that message, I decided it was time to pull the archives and create a 2nd edition of GrindrFail messages that I’ve received. At the rate I get winners like this, this may become a recurring column on my blog. If you’d enjoy that, leave a comment below and I’ll take it into consideration.

So if you paid attention to Epic GrindrFails: Vol. 1, you’re already aware that I enjoy fucking with people when they send ridiculous messages – be it correcting their typos, calling them out on being dumb in general, or just altogether shutting them down. There are some real winners…that’s for sure. Sometimes, however, I just like to engage in witty banter.

For instance…

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For the record, I have never attempted a cross stitch (although I actually can sew – however I frequently impale myself on needles when doing so), I jigsaw-puzzled myself out when I was younger at my grandma’s house, and crocheting? No. Just no. I tried to knit once. It was a disaster.

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While the size of your…umm…endowment is tempting to say the least, I’m just not into that. Denied.

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Oh Charles. Charles, Charles, Charles. I really appreciate your health tips, and I feel sorry for whatever happened to you 8 days ago, but this is legit the strangest “hello” message I’ve ever received. If this had been your homework assignment and I were your teacher, you’d have an A+ and a gold star. Perhaps even a blue ribbon.

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Needless to say, we will NOT be hanging out. Ever.

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I have no words. For once in my life, I’m absolutely speechless. As a side note, in what sense do I give you the impression that I’m anything remotely close to a “hot and wild dark wicked spirited demon stud”….I mean, maybe a stud (at least in the eyes of Manhunt), but the rest?!? Oh my.

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Corn. Corny. Nebraska. I get it. Needless to say, this is one of the reasons I’m glad to no longer live there.

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As a bartender, I’m fully aware of the stigma attached to our profession that we’ll go home with anyone and we’re all a bunch of sluts. I get it. So did my exboyfriend who was also a bartender. Guess what? We get paid to flirt with you, be nice to you, listen to your problems, and make you think we’ll go home with you. In the end, 99% of the time you’ll be going home either alone or with someone else from the bar. All we want is your money. The more you tip, the more we flirt.

As a bartender, I also have no issue telling you where I bartend. My establishment wants your money and so do I. It’s also a nice neutral (and public!) place where you can come, meet me, and flirt with me while paying my bills. Again, however, just because you’re tipping me doesn’t mean I’m going home with you – even if you think you tip well. I joke with customers sometimes that if they want my number then they can leave me theirs on a $20 bill and I’ll get ahold of them after I get out of work. Sometimes they take the bait and I get an extra $20. 99% of the time, they won’t get a text. Whoops?

Did this guy end up getting my number? Nope. He also only tipped $1 per drink. At a price of $7 per drink, that $1 tip is only 14%. Unacceptable. You should be tipping a minimum of 15-20%. Don’t believe me? Head over to Amazon.com and buy Keep the Change by Steve Dublanica. If you ever had a question about how much to tip on ANYTHING, he’s your guy.

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I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: I like to fuck with people. This guy set himself up for it.

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For anyone who knows Smith’s Hotdogs, you know I’m right. They’re the best. But really…you can’t have my American hot dog. I’m not prostituting down on the street asking people if they want to stick their American sausage in my English McMuffin or vice versa.

So on that note…yes, I’m still single and ready to mingle. Think you can one-up these guys? Feel free to shoot me a message. If you fail though, you might end up featured on here with the rest of these goons.

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