Usually, I can find something nice to say about every relationship I’ve been in.
Not with Grindr.
I have written about it. I’ve tried a positive/negative list. I’ve really put genuine amounts of time into trying to squeeze a lesson out of a lemon.
To no avail. It, honestly, was a waste of my time and emotions. I’ve been hurt by other people, but Grindr crushed me. On purpose. Over and over again.
It wasn’t enough to hurt me in the privacy of our home. He humiliated me in front of everyone we knew. He also humiliated me in front of hundreds of people we didn’t know.
The torture was physical and psychological. His nastiness knew no bounds. He couldn’t speak to me in anything less than at the top of his lungs, and with more venom than a water moccasin. He was the absolute picture of hateful.
I have this overwhelming need to fix broken people. Let me change that. I had the overwhelming need to fix people. Not any longer. I now run screaming from the room at the first whiff of a slightly troubled background.
I know that I was irrevocably damaged by my time with Grindr. There are things rattling around inside my chest that I’ll never be able to repair. There’s no excuse for that.
He told me I “deserved to be cheated on”, I was a “stupid cunt”. He said a lot worse, too, over and over as I tried not to cry in front of him. Yet, I fought long after I should have given up because the thought of suffering so much for nothing just seemed so wasteful.
The final straw was finding the Grindr account. Seeing the active search to find men to fuck while I sat home, blissfully ignorant. After seeing it in print, I felt something snap inside me.
I couldn’t keep making excuses. It was a bad investment altogether. I would never see a return. It was time to cut my losses and haul ass.