'Lick my feet for £50?' - The perils of Grindr dating

Would you lick my feet for 50 quid? If I gave you £20, would you watch me poop? Exactly how much money would it take for you to sip my piss? These may sound like rhetorical questions you and your friends might ask each other, while drunk and bored, but on Grindr there’s real money to be made from such requests.

I’m regularly offered more money to do stuff like this than I am to do certain gigs. It’s a potential goldmine, and if I had a day job it might be a good way to make a little extra cash. As it is, I’ve only done “stuff” for money once.

Given that I’m a comedian, I work at night, meaning my time on Grindr has paid off in other ways…

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I once drove down to Devon with another comic, Javier Jarquin. We were booked to do a small gig in some quiet suburb of nowheresville. We arrived early and were greeted at the door by an older gentleman who identified himself as Don, the promoter. “We’re still waiting for the audience to arrive,” he informed us, in a thick Devonshire accent. “Make yourselves at home.”

So we walked across the deserted dance floor and sat down at the bar.

After a while, I thought: “there’s no way this gig’s going to start any time soon, plenty of time for a bum,” so I turned on Grindr. Thing is, being out in nowhere, the closest Grindr accounts to me were 40-odd miles away. Except one profile bearing just the name DonaldFuck.

I started to write to the mystery man asking for a picture (I’m not a “no pic, no reply” Grindr-er but one sent in conversation is good, although it can feel as if you are playing Minesweeper). He messaged me back with: “I didn’t realise you were gay,” presumably in a thick Devonshire accent, adding: “fancy going down to the toilet for some sex?” I looked up to see Don, the aged promoter, smiling at me from across the room.

“Ha ha, sorry mate I can’t! I’m going through my material for your gig,” I replied on the app, before frantically grabbing Javier’s notebook off the bar to make it look as if I was doing something. “£20 Blow job?” he offered.
“No thank you….”
“Wank?” he persisted.
“Sorry, no…”
“Kiss?”
“No.”

Javier, who by this point was thoroughly enjoying the whole situation, recommended that as the gig wasn’t going to go ahead I should take one for the team.

“It’s the only way we’re getting any money out of this,” he pointed out.

Also, I don’t like rejecting people based on their looks. It’s happened to me. One winter, after a particularly long dry spell, I turned up at a guy’s flat only to have the door shut in my face, which left me thinking that this is how Joseph must have felt on Christmas Eve.

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Anyway, as it turns out the gig did go ahead, in front of six people — the promoter, his boyfriend (explains the photo-less profile), and his boyfriend’s parents and sisters. Any other gig would be cancelled if that was the sum total of its audience, so clearly this was a punishment for not accepting his invitation and money.

I did get to ask him in front of everyone how long he’d been with his boyfriend… 19 years! About 16 happy ones I imagine — pre-Grindr.

Still, it’s not all bad. I met my ex on Grindr and we’re still good friends today. Plus, he’s making a fortune on the app. So, hopefully, he’ll be able to pay me back that £50 he owes me. That’s the last time I agree to clean naked for money.

Larry Dean is at the Pleasance Courtyard, Upstairs at the Edniburgh Fringe. Friday 5th August – Sunday 14th August 19:15, Tuesday 16th August – Sunday 28th August 19:15

Follow him on Twitter @Larrydeancomedy

‘Lick my feet for £50?’ – The perils of Grindr dating

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