Do you ask about Instagram mutuals when dating?

There’s still an uncomfortable prickle of jealousy when I learn that someone I’m interested in has slept with someone I know. It’s not like anybody just blurts out, “Oh, by the way, I hooked up with him.” Instead, you swap Instagrams, spot a suspicious number of mutuals, and suddenly you’re playing detective—except the only mystery is just how small gay dating circles can get.

Afterall, passing Instagrams has long been the new way to exchange contact information—over getting someone’s phone number. There’s a sly efficiency to it: in a single tap (maybe a few, if you’re smart enough to have the right privacy settings), and a window opens into one’s life—curated, yes, but still somewhat revealing. But it’s the mutual friends that feel loaded with additional conversation starters. 

I can’t help but wonder—who are those mutuals, and how exactly did the guy I’m interested in meet them? Was it a party, a protest, a bedroom, or did they just accidentally swap Grindr profiles in a Starbucks bathroom and call it fate? Was there a night that started with tequila and ended with secrets?

That’s when my insecurities threaten to run away from me. Suddenly, every mutual feels like a potential rival, every “like” a confession. I start comparing myself to those mutuals, wondering “If this guy liked those mutuals, he might like me.” But then I catch myself. I remember that he’s allowed to have had—and to have—other romantic interests. We’re not exclusive. The truth is, I just met him if we’re only exchanging Instagrams. 

Just having met him, though, still doesn’t wipe away my desire to feel special. To know that, in the crowded scroll of his feed and his life, he’s choosing me. But what does that actually look like? To feel special, that is. How do I know I’m being seen for who I am, and not just as someone’s “type”?

I pay attention to the little things. Does he ask real questions about my life—my family, my work, the weird things that make me laugh? Does he remember the stories I tell, or is he mostly interested in the ones that fit a certain narrative? 

Is he curious about my experiences, willing to have those messy, honest conversations? Does he make me feel safe enough to be vulnerable, or am I always on guard, waiting for the moment he says something that reveals I’m an idea to him, not a person?

And then there’s intimacy, both public and private. Does he show up for me, check in when I need it, make plans that feel intentional? Or am I just filling a spot in his schedule, a convenient plus-one for the night?

And honestly, I’ll admit it: I’ve asked the mutuals before as a shortcut. Slid into their DMs, dropped a casual “So, what’s his deal? Is he going to break my heart?”—and you know what? They’ve been right every single time. Maybe it’s because in a community as tightly knit as ours, reputations travel faster than gossip, and everyone’s got a story to share. Sometimes it’s a warning, sometimes it’s just a shrug and a “he’s nice enough,” but either way, their insights have been uncannily accurate.

But even so, I know there’s a risk to making that my default move. It’s easy to get caught up in someone else’s version of events, or to let their experiences color what could be a completely different connection for me. There’s a fine line between protecting yourself and letting other people’s histories shape your own story before it even starts.

So I’m learning to balance the two: taking the mutuals’ feedback seriously—because, let’s be real, community wisdom is a resource—but also tuning into my own instincts and needs. Because at the end of the day, no one else can tell me for sure if I’m being seen, wanted, and chosen for who I am. That’s something I still have to ask for and feel out for myself, no matter how accurate my predictions or the group chat’s predictions turn out to be.