Sunday, June 19, 2022

How to cleverly (or not so cleverly) disguise your tricks in your address book

When I was a sophomore in college, I developed a system for storing phone contacts for hookup buddies. This system was borne out of necessity, as near the end of the spring semester of my sophomore year was when I started hooking up with guys (plural). I needed a way to distinguish which string of numbers corresponded to which guy whom I didn't know on a last-name basis. Strangely enough, this system has partially endured to this day.

As anyone familiar with online dating knows, especially gay online dating, mates are almost always met on a first-name basis only to start. A last name represents a level of intimacy in the connection--it means that you can be discovered more easily on social media or via a Google search, thus exposing more vulnerability.

When I started hooking up, I experienced a cognitive dissonance between my conservative evangelical upbringing that cemented the belief in my mind that premarital sex was wrong and my biological urges to experience sexual release which had been suppressed for 20 years. Indicative of this cognitive dissonance, I sought to keep those two aspects of my life distinct with no crossover. My self was divided into two halves: the former was my public-presenting self, the self that my family and friends knew; and the latter was my sexual self that I sought to hide from others. I did not intend to become friends with my hookups; I hoped I would never encounter them out in the world; I would actively avoid them out in the world if I could; I did not provide them with my last name; and I did not host at my place of residence. I wanted to avoid integration of the two halves of myself, my left hand not knowing what my right was doing.

The online platform that was my foray into recurrent sex was Adam4Adam*--a web-based gay dating site, the existence of which I learned about through a casual reference made by a gay Cal Performances coworker. Every hookup I met through this site was stored in my phone as "[First name] 6". I initially considered entering "A4A" as the last names for the hookups met through this platform, but I feared what might happen if someone saw a text message come in from someone with "A4A" as the last name. To increase the vagueness, I assigned the last name "6". 6 is the sum of 1, 4, and 1, where 1 was a stand-in for the letter "A". So "6" represented "A4A", which represented "Adam4Adam". Best of all, since my contacts were sorted by last name, all my hookups were concentrated in one place at the end of my address book. This meant that scrolling through my contacts in a public place would be less likely to expose these men. It also could enable an easy way to find all my hookup contacts for quick and complete deletion--the primary use case I kept in mind.

This all started before I had a smartphone, so any online platforms I used were web-based, accessed through a computer. At the end of the fall semester of my junior year, I obtained my first smartphone. Over the following semester, this unlocked a world of possibility for me: smartphone applications. Grindr was the first dating application I downloaded on my smartphone, even as I continued to use Adam4Adam on my laptop. Over the course of the spring semester, I learned about the existence of Tinder and Jack'd. I simultaneously began seeking out a dating relationship, so I also expanded into okCupid. I intended to use some of the platforms for dating purposes and others for sex-only purposes, the latter of which I felt was a more shameful and inappropriate use of my social energy. Accordingly, I felt I had to distinguish between the guys I met on each of these platforms to distinguish who was a candidate for a real relationship, and who was just a trick to fulfill my carnal lust.

Grindr, in my mind, was a more base and carnal platform than Adam4Adam. Consequently, guys I met from Grindr were assigned a last name of "5"--lower than "6" because I deemed the platform less legitimate and respectable. Guys I met from Tinder and okCupid were assigned a last name of "7"--higher than "6" because I deemed the platforms (or at least my intended use of the platforms) more legitimate and respectable.

For the next several years, I maintained this convention, with my designation of the "respectability" of the platform varying relative to Adam4Adam's "6". Guys I met from 3ndr were assigned a last name of "5"; from Hinge, "7"; from Coffee Meets Bagel, "7"; from Surge, "6"; and in person, "8". At various points in the past, I also downloaded Scruff and Hornet, but these apps never "clicked" for me. I never used them enough to meet anyone from them, so I never had to decide what numerical last name was most applicable to these guys.

Oddly, this convention has generally continued to this day. However, unlike my 20-year-old self, I now prefer to assign last names to my hookups. If a guy makes it into my address book, then that is an indication that I want to see him again. He may have a numerical last name at first, but as soon as I learn his last name, he moves out of that grouping in my address book and is juxtaposed with family and other friends. I have largely integrated the two halves of myself. The numerical last name convention persists merely due to systemic inertia. And now, I give zero fucks about platform "respectability"**. Most guys I meet from any new apps I may download these days usually have an "8" or a "9" as a last name for the brief period before they become regular contacts.





*I distinguish "recurrent sex" from sex in general. I had my first and second sexual experiences in a two-week period in January 2013 with the same guy. Afterward, I cut off contact with him. I met this guy on PlanetRomeo. His name was Lee. Due to self-imposed guilt, I did not have sex again until April 2013, after I created my Adam4Adam account.

**Unless, of course, the app's UI sucks, though I don't currently reflect that in how I store my contacts.