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Grinding is less a pastime than a palm-sized addiction. Grinders spend an average of ninety minutes on the app every day—and not just in one session. In my experience, that's an unrealistic number. I never wanted to get to the neurotic stage where I logged on while walking around, so I made a point of doing less walking around. My theory was that Tops took it as a challenge, whereas Bottoms seemed to feel they'd already come up short in our imagined duel of wits, and that was good enough for them.It is also standard practice among grinders to steer clear of certain red flags.A spokesman for Vodafone said: 'By his own admission, Mr Waldrum made calls to premium rate adult entertainment services more or less continuously over a period of two months until we suspended the services on October 21 when the total debt was £91,000.Since we missed the opportunity to alert him at this stage, we will waive the charges of around £61,000 incurred after this point as a gesture of goodwill.Another took the time to text just one remark: "My bf will beat the shit out of me if he knows I'm talking to you." Which I found refreshingly concise, if vaguely unnecessary.Others offered interviews in exchange for a quaint variety of carnal favors, which I graciously declined, as far as you know.exact location, I could see him on a map, too, in the shape of a red pushpin.I knew to expect only one thing when our dot and pushpin met: that the guy wouldn't look much like his tiny picture. But the Grindr team, in September, was launching a new app, Blendr—which was not just for gay guys but for Everybody.

Those other sites are proud of asking for massive detail.To ensure that no user of Grindr ever felt hoodwinked, I took the name "GQ Magazine" and used as my icon a collage of covers, though I was slightly worried that grinders would think I was hawking subscriptions in some kind of seedy jailhouse telemarketing scheme. Though it is 96 percent inane, it's not all sexting and Weinering pics to people.Many guys started a conversation with the aforementioned "Sup? " I admit, I looked down on them, as one would on "mole people" or Michael "The Situation" Sorrentino.I'd take out my device and tap on the black-and-yellow tribal-mask logo of Grindr, an app that lets guys use GPS to meet other guys who are ten steps away or a hundred. Guys calling themselves "Hard" and "Hung 2 Hang" offered cheery requests pertaining to the act of love: "Top bunk, don't be a fuckin' girl, 420-friendly."The Chat, too, was of the highest quality.The screen would blink into a checkerboard of guys' pictures—whole armies of men who were within a mile of me, many right next door, and I could those distances, for I was the Lord. Someone would message "Sup." Without even missing a beat, I'd come back with "How are you?

" (I spelled it all out, eschewing the "R U," because, you know, being said!

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