What The Fuck Were You Expecting?

Yeah, yeah, I haven't posted to here in probably about a year. I could check the date, but it's not important enough to bother with those extra taps on the touchpad.

I'm posting because I need to bitch. And moan... Well, maybe not moan. I guess just the bitching. 

Anyway, I went on a Grindr hookup a couple of nights ago (gasp!) and it didn't exactly go perfectly. The chat went fine and arranging the meetup was almost too easy, which is usually a red flag. But he and I were talking and quickly arranged for me to go to his house. It was about 15 to 20 minutes from where I was, so I started heading his way and kept him updated on my progress. I do that to make sure they don't disappear on me. If they stop responding, I stop driving to their house. He, luckily (I guess), responded right away nearly every time, so I figured he was legitimate.

I parked where he had told me to and walked up to his house where he met me at the door. We said our hellos and I followed him up two flights of stairs, making sure to be quiet so as to not wake his roommates. We got all the way upstairs and we started to have a little bit of small talk and I mentioned he was cute and he told me to hold on a second.

I backed off a half a step and put my hands out to the side and gave him a puzzled look. I was genuinely confused, as we hadn't done anything and the "hold on" seemed out of place. He fumbled to try to explain that he just had this different image of me in his head. He said he was "picturing more of a daddy type." I didn't know what the fuck that meant, but I turned, opened the door, and walked downstairs with him right behind me. When I left, there was a very deliberate lack of "goodbyes" from both of us.

When I got back out to my car, I sat there a moment, still puzzled, and trying to figure out how I was supposed to be more daddy like, and what that even meant.

The thing is, my profile is very candid. I am a bearish guy, covered in hair and with a slowly-shrinking belly, but a belly nonetheless. I'm balding and probably average in looks, generally speaking. My true height and weight are on my profile, as well as an exact description of what I'm into. So, there's nothing that I could think of that would make someone turn me away at the last second. I thought maybe he was expecting someone more butch. I'm masculine, but not to an extreme. If someone was really concerned about someone being "straight acting" they might be nervous around me. I'm masculine with the occasional feminine moment, I guess. And my voice isn't super deep. It's higher than people expect and more nasally. I do not have a voice for radio.

While sitting in my car, I decided to check Grindr to see if he blocked me yet. Surprisingly, he hadn't (though he, since, has). So, I figured there was no harm in asking him what was up, without being too confrontational. I asked him if there was something misleading on my profile and his response was that he was expecting someone wearing a wifebeater.

A fucking wifebeater shirt?! I got turned away at the last second, after driving for 20 or so minutes and looking for his house in the dark, and quietly walking up two flights of stairs, because he pictured me wearing a wifebeater and I was wearing a Polo-styled shirt. I was apparently supposed to just psychically know that he had a wifebeater fetish, I'm assuming.

A fucking wifebeater?!

I seriously felt like shit, walking out of his room, down those stairs, and out of his house. It was humiliating. He was very cute but turned ugly in my eyes pretty quickly. I just don't understand why he would have that expectation, I wasn't wearing a wifebeater in my profile picture. In fact, I wasn't wearing a shirt at all. In my profile picture, I'm standing outside, with no shirt on, and wearing a pair of jeans with the front open and showing my Andrew Christian underwear. I do this so that guys know what they're getting. All too often, if I just have my face in my profile picture, some guy will hit me up, or I'll initiate a conversation with him, and everything will be going great until I send them some body pics and they see that I'm not as in shape as they had assumed, or I'm hairier than they had hoped. Whatever their delusions were, I relieved them of them, and they stop talking to me or they block me. So, whenever possible, I try to use a photo that shows more of my upper body. What you see is what you get. And that was the case here.

Whatever expectations he had were on him. He conjured up that fantasy all on his own and made me feel shitty for not fitting his mental mold. There was nothing misleading on my part, and he should have expected exactly what he got.

He blames his reaction or his stupidity or something on being stoned, but that's a lame excuse. I've been stoned. I'm a little stoned right now. I'm not expecting guys to come dressed in any particular attire I've conjured up in my head. Like, "If that fatherfucker doesn't show up wearing a purple pimp hat and a mismatched pair of Crocs, I will point him right back toward the door!"

Fucking douche-bag.