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About Just out. (Portland, OR) 1983-2013 | View Entire Issue (May 6, 2011)
JUL 32 voices MAY 6. 20)1 I fancy myself someone on top of things. I read the news incessantly; I’m constantly pe rusing music sites; I’m consumed by politics, despite the ever-glacial pace. Apparently I’m a sucker for rhetoric. That said, what I’m not apt to obsess over are the latest technological marvels—I blame being a child of the ‘90s, futilely straddling both old and new, longing for the tactile (books, please, not Kindle) while longing for (but maintaining safe distances 9 from) advances I never fully fathom or con done. Case in point: phone apps, like Grindr. Last spring, during my birthday weekend, my two best friends and I wandered San Fran cisco’s sunny, exquisite, men-lined streets. Both friends drained (and re-drained) their phone batteries throughout the trip, never let ting a moment to Grindr slip away. No, I don't •» need to g o back to the hotel, I’d say. I haven't been w a stin g my battery perusing online rum m age sales. God forbid anyone spend a moment separated from the city’s best torso screen shots. I heckled mercilessly. While my friends mastered the art of beg ging “Please stop,” I mastered imitating what I consider Grindr’s biggest (made-up) miss: a hy pothetical Big Brother homing beacon, whose rhythm increases in frequency as objects of de sire approach. It’s a relentless beep, insatiable until thirsts are quenched. My notoriously loud mouth ran whenever I noticed Grindr open, and it didn’t stop until acquiescence came, usu ally via the off switch or by finding safe distances from my stubborn vitriol, which transcended r WWW.JUSTOUT.COM Don’t Call It an Apology: Lady about Grindr n lady about m fc,; B Y D AN IEL B O R G E N If most of the world is already dissecting us—and they are, why can’t we cut each other some slack? Grinding or drinking, why condemn? city. Anyone who knew me w ell suspected (cor rectly), on some level, my mockery was borne of jealousy. I longed, but didn’t dare try. I’ve since succumbed and joined the revolu tion. M y favorite Grindr hotspots? Portland’s bars—say a Sunday afternoon at Silverado (the love-it-tf/zd'-hate-it bar, like the ex you feign apathy toward but fuck behind closed doors).Tbere, I’ll quick draw my phone, fire up the app and wave it around, scanning people like they’re alien races in episodes of Star Trek. No, you're not the one. No, not you either. Friends remind me, “Daniel, that doesn’t help Toad more guys.’” Perhaps not, but I sure enjoy pa trons’ reactions and pretending it does. Grindr, though, soon becomes a sea awash with too- familiar faces—and chests, proving most use ful searching for out-of-town talent. clubs—that disposition transcends sexuality. W hat I can’t understand is the facet of our population unabashedly loathing certain hab its, those who reserve so much bitterness and anger toward people who are, like it or not, al lies. Is it a more intense version of my former Grindr-jealousy? Maybe they’re outside look ing in, secretly wanting to participate, but can't. Is it simply self-loathing, an inability to live and let live, finding odd comfort (or com placency) in back-and-forth judgment? If most of the world is already dissecting us— and they are, why can’t we cut each other some slack? Grinding or drinking, why condemn? It’s perfectly fine, even healthy, to gather in groups, commiserate, revel in one another’s company—in any bar. Who cares if it’s a gay strip club? I don’t believe strippers actually love me because I’m shoving sweaty one dollar bills in their panties, so what’s the harm? Our distinct gay experiences boast eerily similar characteristics—universal ones: struggles to love, be loved, shirking endless oppression, troubling family dynamics, the ability to em pathize with those who can’t count on even remotely accepting family scenarios. To hide from that camaraderie—or discount it—is too bleak, bleaker even than fellow gays hating those who drink beers with friends at gay bars on Sunday afternoons. J0] During a trademark Sunday outing, my friends and I scoured Grindr, comparing our vast experiences. One particular friend who has yet to take the plunge—he’ll remain nameless for propriety’s sake—found a screenshot partic ularly alluring. I invited the Grindr beau out. He asked where we were and I, unashamed, re vealed our location (though a homing beacon would have been easier). My disclosure provided him the impetus for an unexpected tirade. He ranted about “us gays” being “funda mentalists on par with militant Christians.” I relayed goings-on play-by-play to those around me, tossing a volley of queries at him. Please explain, because I'm certain I didn't pass Sarah Palin in the bathroom. Apparent rather quickly: He abhorred all things gay. He de clared, “All you gays do is frequent strip clubs, gay bars and bathhouses.” Oh yes, I replied. I ju s t ren ew ed my Steam membership w hile order- in g my last beer. Although his was a particu larly dramatic vein of distaste, it represents an I also believe i f you do any am ount o f shit-talking unmistakable, real divide. on Grindr, you should show you r fa ce. A nonymity I understand general distaste for bars or isn’t courageous. Email daniel @ justo ut . co m . V Mother's Day Brunch and Dinner SERVING BR EA KFA ST and LUNCH DAILY M O N -PR! • 7 A M - 2 PM SAT -SU N • B A M - 3 PM BRIDGESCAFEANDCATtRING.NET Sunday ; May 8th please call for reservations equlitox RESTAURANT 830 N Shaver Dinner: Tues.-Sun. 5pm; A ll T hings F resh BASTAS Seven Nights A Week 410 NW 21st Ave, 503.274.1572 b a s t a s tra t to r ia .c o m AND BAR 503-460-3333 Breakfast/Lunch: Sat.-Sun. 9am-2pm
