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Sex and Belonging on the Grid

  • Writer: Bret Hansen
    Bret Hansen
  • Aug 21
  • 3 min read

Updated: Aug 21

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Early in the morning and late at night, hookup apps come alive. Before the workday starts and just before bed, many of us check the grid, scroll through profiles, or send a quick hello. At those times, we’re usually at our most unguarded. The habit says something important: the apps are about more than sex. They’re about the desire to connect, to feel wanted, to know someone is on the other side of the screen.


Hookup apps are one of the few exclusively gay spaces. That makes them powerful. In a world where we’ve often felt outside the norm, the apps promise a kind of instant belonging. Everyone here is gay; no need to explain or translate. They also deliver on things we genuinely want: sex, flirtation, recognition, even intimacy. For many men, they provide moments of joy and playfulness, or a sense of community that was hard to find growing up.


At the same time, the experience is mixed. The same space that makes us feel included can also leave us feeling excluded. Some profiles get endless messages while others are ignored. Silence can sting more here, because the apps seem like they should guarantee connection. The quick validation they provide sometimes fades into self-doubt or loneliness once the screen goes dark.


This tension is part of why the apps are so compelling. They give us a taste of intimacy while also showing where it feels just out of reach. They are neither good nor bad, but a mirror for our deepest longings. When we scroll, we’re not only seeking sex—we’re seeking recognition, affirmation, and belonging. That’s what makes the apps such an important part of our inner lives.


Therapy can help us slow down this process and notice what’s really happening. When you reach for the app, what are you hoping for? Is it sex, comfort, conversation, or reassurance? Which experiences feel nourishing, and which leave you depleted? Therapy doesn’t aim to stop anyone from using the apps. Instead, it creates a space to explore the deeper desires the apps bring to the surface.


For some men, that exploration leads to insight about old wounds—times they weren’t chosen, moments of exclusion that still echo in the present. For others, it clarifies what kind of intimacy they want today, beyond the inherited scripts of who’s considered desirable or valuable. Therapy makes room to experiment with those discoveries, so the connections we make—on the apps or elsewhere—feel more authentic and sustaining.


The point isn’t to take the fun out of the apps. The thrill of desire, the playful banter, the excitement of possibility—all of that matters. Therapy simply widens the lens, helping us see how those moments fit into the bigger picture of our need for intimacy and belonging.


Think back to those early mornings and late nights with the phone in hand. The scroll isn’t only about arranging a hookup. It’s about reaching for connection at vulnerable times of day, when our guard is down. In therapy, that reaching is taken seriously. The longing behind it is treated with respect, and the loneliness that sometimes follows is given a place to be understood.


Hookup apps are likely to remain part of gay life for a long time. They’ll continue to be fun, frustrating, and full of possibility. But when we use them with curiosity about our own desires, and when we have a place in therapy to reflect on those desires, they can become more than a cycle of highs and lows. They can be one part of a fuller story about how we seek—and find—connection.


If hookup apps stir questions about connection and intimacy, therapy can be a place to sort through them. Schedule a free 15-minute consultation.

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