This post was submitted by Zack Rosen

Journalism, to paraphrase Joseph Conrad, contains an infinity of absolution. It’s amazing how much degenerate behavior a guy can rationalize in the name of a interesting story. Thus I find myself hatching plans to visit The Crew Club, to brave a gay cruise, to do a million other things I would never even otherwise consider just to emerge on the other end with some interesting cocktail conversation.

The retrograde version of this  logic, then, is to succumb to the slippery slope of sloppy behavior because halfway through you realize that you can write about it. This is even more insidious for a person like me because it unlocks all kinds of doors that I previously couldn’t even see. Though I condemned Manhunt a while back, I’ve since received an entre’ to the perilous chapel of online dating through the iPhone app Grindr. Like a cross between match.com and a restraining order, it allows you to see and chat with the men around you that also have the program open. It also tells you exactly how far away they are, in case you feel like chasing them down the street with an axe, because lord knows we don’t think about the sex/death connection often enough.

But where I’m going with this is for the past month, I’ve been using a picture of my faceless torso for my profile. A friend took a particularly flattering one and I figured it would be a good way to test my eternal question about online dating/dick shopping: Are guys on the hunt for a person, or for an act? My previous opinion used to be that the person behind a profile didn’t matter. You could be nice, well read, handsome, intelligent, gym-toned, whatever, and it wouldn’t make a lick of difference. They’ve got a brand new pair of rollerskates, you’ve got a brand new key, and since you both happened to be on the same website at the same time you try’ em out. See?

I’ve been pleasantly surprised in the past at the number of guys who’ve messaged me because they recognized the songs I quote, or because they really were just bored and looking to chat … though I do wonder if these guys also whip out their penises when making small talk with strangers in the library or at the park. But when you just show a picture of your torso, the world becomes a darker place. It’s fine if you like darkness — we all have it in us — but I was shocked at the number of blatant come-ons you recieve when a person can’t see what you look like. Good friends of mine sent me pictures of their penises without even knowing it was me. If I had four eyes and a goiter they would still open their conversations with “Horny. You Looking?”

I chose to depersonalize myself by not showing my face, but I’m still not sure what the appeal is on the other side. It’s one thing to ask a person with a nice form if you can see their face, but my headless avatar has carried on long and involved discussions on traveling, movies, and the finer points of ejaculation. What if I was your fifth grade math teacher? What if I was your cousin?

But that’s the thrill, isn’t it? A guy like me —who has a dog and calls his mom and still gets nosebleeds when it’s dry out — can instantly transform into the wam-bodied object of your desire with a little photoshopping and a bust-enhancing trick of the light. It’s fun, too. You can say anything you want to a person when you don’t have a face, because you yourself are not a person at that moment. You’re a body. And if a guy chooses to engage a headless horseman in conversation he shouldn’t be surprised if a couple pumpkins get lobbed his way. I would never log off mid-convo when I had a face, or be so aggressive in seeing what a guy looks like naked. But without a face it’s easy to be without a conscience as well. And to be honest, I doubt that anyone logs onto Grindr expecting to meet Jiminy Cricket.

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