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All in a Days Grind

My room was shared with a straight man, a man with dad bod, beefy Hanes, facial hair,

which Ive yet to figure out how to grow on my own, and a vibrant thirst for the affection of

some suave young lady. Our luxury condo, an 11 x 16 room connected to another 11 x 16

room by a shared bathroom housed two gays, Dylan, a twink (an attractive, boyish-looking,

young gay man), and Chris, an otter (a gay man who is very hairy all over his body, but is

smaller in frame and weighs less than a bear), in one room plus me (also a twink?) in the other.

The rest of the hall was littered with other LGBT students, but Dexter was a lone wolf, the odd

man out, the straight, white, Christian man Feminists warn you about. With so many

homosexuals on one floor, its no wonder that Grindr became the primary means of

communication between several of us.

Dexterwhat a manalways woke from his slumber to see me off before a long days

work. Im not sure how, but he was great with the ladies and everyone. Heck, if he were gay, he

and I would have already walked down the aisle. Thats not to say he is all that attractive. His

unkempt beard/mustache combo was patchy at best, and his gut became its own autonomous

entity with an OU Class of 2019 ID to prove it. He grew from a size 28 to a size 32 during our

stay in Adams Tower; Really, by the time we finished our freshman year, he and I had swapped

pant sizeshe just wasnt as lucky as me. He was quickly passing from twink to otter to bear

within a college year! His new girlfriend, Lauren Tony Rachel, didnt mind a bit, though. Rachel

was the latest object of Dexters affection, the latest Tinder match. We often talked of our

relationships.

Dexter loved to hear about my life, my woes, my problems, my highs, my lows. It wasnt

unusual for us to stay up until one or two in the morning talking about our love lives. Hed ask
me, what should I do, as if this gay man knew the secrets of the universe and how to seduce a

woman into thinking a man with a patchy beard and a dad bod was a hot commodity. Just be you

was most often my answer. I dont get womenIm gaysomehow, it worked, and Rachel stuck

with him. This isnt to say that Dexter never helped me out. Dexter often joked that my life could

be an HBO show, filled with dramatic and heartbreaking relationships, twisted stories of friends

torn apart, a political campaign plagued with corruption. I guess you could say that it was

interesting to hear my life being spoken against the dull silence of Tarman 1104. But Dexter was

there to coach me through every bit of chemistry between me and the wide array of men Id meet

on Grindr.

Following the breakup with my teenage heartthrob, I followed Dexters advice to join

every dating app that the Google Play store offered. There I was, a swipe away from meeting the

man of my dreams. Who was I to know that of the 20,000+ students enrolled at OU, half of them

were men? Half of them were thirsty, and it didnt matter that I, too, was a man. It only mattered

who was tonight, who was DTF (down-to-fuck).

Dexter and I sat around our room. Darth Vader, Luke Skywalker and the rest of the Star Wars

cast littered our walls, or at least the walls on Dexters side of the room. On my side, a pride flag

covered the length of the wall above my bed, and autographed Bianca Del Rio, Americas Drag

Superstar, posters lined the wall above my desk. He played the most highly-anticipated game of

the year, Star Wars, on his Play Station 4, and I kept pulling down from the top of my screen,

refreshing over and over again, trying to find someone new, someone who would pique my

interest more than the general attractive, muscly male who was DTF.

Lunchtime rolled around and neither of us had rolled far enough out of bed to find any

sort of lunchunless you count the helpless stretching both of us made for our nightstand-
turned-pantry which was home to our single-serve bowls of Cheerios, Fruit Loops and Frosted

Flakes and an endless supply of Lays Original Baked potato chips. It was garbage; it was lunch.

We didnt have milk, my bad, but Dexter forgot to remind me, his bad. We didnt lack in

communication about anything of substance: French homework, writing assignments, readings

for the week, but, for the life of us, we couldnt communicate about whatever the hell was in our

fridge (or what wasnt in our fridge for that matter).

That Sunday dragged on, and neither of us so much as put on fresh clothes. He wore

basketball shorts and a Star Wars tee; I wore Abercrombie and Fitch sweats. It was a symbol of

who we were. Dextera laidback, video game-playing couch potato. Mea champagne gay on

a beer budget who didnt have the pocket money to waste on more Abercrombie boxers. Thats

somethingDexter was the first boy to ever see me in my boxers.

It wasnt until that evening when Dexters mom called him to check on him that he made

a harsh realization. When she asked, What have you done today? and his reply was Uhhas

his voice trailed away, Dexter suddenly noticed he nor I had so much as stepped out of the room.

Without missing a beat, Dexter climbs out of his bed, flings open the dorm room door, steps into

the hall, turns around, slams the door, and crawls right back onto his bed.

That was it. He had officially left the room. His mom couldnt nag on him for staying in

his room all day.

And when dinner came around, I asked Dexter what hed like. Understanding our current

condition of having not left our room except for his single step into the hallway and my paces to

and from the bathroom, there was no question: we were getting delivery.
The problem with delivery food when your living in the dorms, though, is that they dont

deliver to your room. They deliver to the bottom floor of your tower and expect you to find them.

The struggle for Dexter and I was that neither of us wanted to budge. He was furiously pressing

the x button on his controller and making grunting noises as he noted to himself, to me, to the

whole room that Leia is such a stupid character in this game. Shes so slow and doesnt even

carry a lightsaber. News to me, Dexter had just lost this round, and, in his disappointment, I

conceded and would pick up our soon-to-be-delivered-to-the-bottom-of-our-tower single-topping

cheese pizza.

I made my first step into the hallway, remembering that video recording of Neil

Armstrong taking his first step on the moon and reckoned this is what it must have felt like. It

was painful, I was sore, but I would soon have the sweet relief of being a hero, a hero with food.

I sat on the bottom floor of Adams Tower, waiting for the delivery man to arrive in my

sweatpants, not even taking into consideration how my hair looked or my breath smelled. I was

desperate for our first real meal, if you can call a cheese pizza a meal. When I returned to the

room, I realized that both Dexter and I were ravenous for this pizza. Fuck yeah, pizza! Without

plates, napkins, drinks or even washing our hands, we tore into the pizza. This food was enough

for Dexter to take leave from his endless shooting spree of a video game.

With our stomachs once again full, we returned to our respective pastimes, he to his video

games, me to Grindr. Then, with a stroke of luck, I received a stream of messages from one guy

after the other. Many were simple hellos or heys. Some were interesting endeavors of wanting

to hook up on the DL. Then there were a few who skipped both of these and went straight for

the killthere in all of their shining glory, I had the benefit of seeing over 15 OU students
genitals. Then again, so did Dexter. For every message I received, Dexter was there to listen,

respond, and critique every message AND picture. Some were impressive; most were not.

One of our favorite messages we received was a schematic for how this man wanted to be

built into my car seat in order for his face to rest just beneath me. He offered me $500 if Id let

him do it. And, with an offer like that, Dexter countered. $250 and u got a deal! But the crazy

Grindr stories didnt end there for Dexter and me.

Dexter had finally left the dorm room to see his girlfriend across the street in Couch

Tower. While he was away, I received a message from a blank profile that simply said hey. By

this point, I had begun to delete all messages that came from blank profiles as well as the men

who only sent pictures (or requested pictures) because that wasnt the point of all of this. The

point was for me to find my dream guy, like Dexter had found Lauren Tony Rachel.

No one was in the room. I thought Why not? and messaged back pic? I hoped to receive a

face picture since his profile was blank; what I received in return was far from a face picture. It

was a picture of this muscular, tatted hunk of a man bare-assed from the neck down. Not what I

was expecting. I asked again with more clarification face pic? As I waited for a response, I

looked at the tattoos on this mans neck and forearms. They were stunningand familiar. When

this blank profile sent me the requested face pic, I recognized the face and asked for this

gentlemens name. He told me his name and quickly responded with this is awkward.

Why is this awkward?

I teach French.
I couldnt help myself from laughing hysterically. Out of lust? Out of sheer hilarity that

this weird teacher fantasy is not just a rumored thing that people have made up about what

happens in college?

Dexter walked in about this time, and I locked my phone out of shame, out of pure

humiliation that this had happened. After refreshing Grindr for hours and suddenly I was just

lying there in my bed doing nothing, Dexter questioned my motives. I swore him to secrecy as I

sat up, criss-cross-applesauce in my bed and gave him a play-by-play of this situation. It wasnt

until I got to the part about this man that messaged me on Grindr was his French teacher that the

shock set in. Dexters backpack slid from his shoulder, down his arm, and onto the floor as

Dexter began pacing, not knowing what to think. This teacher with whom he had spent an entire

year, he had admired as someone to look up to, had sent me pictures of his naked (attractive)

body.

Dexter asked me what I planned on doing about it. I mean, what was I to do when a

strapping young, attractive professor asked to meet up? It wasnt like he was my professor or

anything. He was Dexters professor. What could go wrong? Then Dexter dropped a bomb.

Brody, hes married.

Dexters words spoke with a finality, that I knew better, that he knew better of me to ruin

his teachers marriage. Maybe it was out of respect for Dexter, but this charade couldnt go on

any longer.

That was it. That was the end of my time on Grindr, on dating sites, on men. I could stay

single. I didnt need a hot hunk of a teacher man to sweep me off my feet. (Okay, maybe I

wanted to.) But without Dexters critique of my Grindr courtship, who knows where Id be?
Maybe Dexter needed a Grindr to be the hot hunk of a man Ive been looking for. Then

again, maybe he doesnt. He and I go on lunch dates every Monday anyway. And what about

Rachel? She knows. She knows that one of these days Dexter will figure out that Im the best for

him. Until then, Im staying off of Grindr.