Grant Magdanz never expected any of this to happen. Not like this,–andconfusing– anyway.

The 29-year-old software development entrepreneur has amassed more than 37,000 followers on TikTok in less than a month. But he's not dancing, he's not cursing, he's not taking his shirt off. He's just a man who lives with his 89-year-old grandmother in Los Angeles, standing in front of social media, asking for connection and feedback on apps he's building.

Not usually the makings of a viral phenom, you might think. But the comments on his videos reveal a borderline hedonistic hunger for Magdanz's sweet, sensitive content – or maybe just sweet, sensitive Magdanz himself. "Grant must be protected at all cost," one TikTok user wrote. Another: "You are so fine it hurts." And another: "Can Grant let us know what team he plays for?"

Yes, TikTok users are quick to latch on to those they deem attractive. But Magdanz wasn't exactly comfortable with all the extra attention he was getting for his looks – so much so he ultimately clarified in an Instagram AMA that he was straight.

"There was a tension there between wanting to be honest and authentic and not wanting to lead people on," he says over a recent Zoom call. "And I wasn't really sure how to balance those." His ambivalence echoed over several conversations, peppered with pauses before answering touchy topics; he evidently wasn't interested in queerbaiting – exploiting queerness without identifying as a member of the community – particularly during Pride Month.

Perhaps Magdanz found the antidote, though: Doubling down on authenticity, a growing trend online. Fewer filters, more vulnerability. But the fact he felt he had to address it at all speaks to a larger problem with expectations of privacy online.

"I feel like I went from living in my silo to feeling like there's somewhat of a spotlight," he adds, overwhelmed by all the attention. "It's still very small in the grand scheme of social media, but I think I stepped out on a stage and was assuming that no one was going to be in the audience. And all of a sudden, it's like, a lot of people in the audience."

'It gives me anxiety'

Magdanz grew up in Alaska and attended the University of Washington, and later moved to New York for a corporate job. He lost that gig in November. After taking a beat, he decided to move to Los Angeles to regroup and try striking out on his own – and living with his grandma, of course. The pair watch sports, take walks, eat meals together and go to church. Now, his life is more grounded.

"I want to try to get to a place in life where I have more control over my time," he says. "And for me, that looks like trying to move away from trading money for time – which I've been doing my whole career, right salaried employee had some equity, right? But like salaried employee, at the end of the day, most of my all my comp came from trading time for money."

He details many of these feelings in his videos, including his plans to build 12 apps in 12 months; the first is a Siri-like cooking assistant. But the videos also slip into the more introspective too. He's afraid people will be disappointed in him the more they get to know him. He has unwholesome and unkind sides, too. He sometimes find it hard to be happy for other people's successes.

"It gives me anxiety that people think of me in a way that I'm not," he says. Still, that earnestness begets more praise, and Magdanz ultimately feels better when he shares his truth. That includes talking about losing his job, what books he's reading, spending time with his grandmother, his goal of being a stay-at-home dad.

And now, his sexuality.

On 'coming out' as straight

When the thirsty comments trickled in – not to mention DMs – Magdanz struggle with what to do next: "I never expected my sexuality or relationship status or anything like that to be part of my content."

The main reason Magdanz "came out" as straight? It was starting to affect the content he wanted to produce – which is not OK, whether you're a (budding) celebrity or everyday person.

"The nature of celebrity journalism is to glean as much information as possible about celebrities we arguably know too well," Melvin Williams, associate professor of communication and media studies at Pace University, previously told USA TODAY. "Still, celebrities and non-celebrities do not owe the public a confirmation or explanation about their sexual orientations, and disclosures should remain a matter of choice."

Magdanz understands people are curious, nor is he uncomfortable with his sexuality. He's supportive of the LGBTQ+ community; he's simply not a member. But he worried posting a video in support of Pride Month might give people the wrong idea. "I don't want people to be here just because they're hoping that I'm gay, or hoping that I'm straight or hoping kind of whatever it is," he says.

When he posted the truth to his Instagram story – "I'm straight and also a proud ally of the LGBTQ+ community. Y'all are great. Thanks for being here and happy pride" – "I didn't get a ton of feedback on it," he says. But overall, he says, the Internet has shown him grace.

"I've been amazed at how kind people have been," he says. "Part of that's definitely because I'm a guy, because I'm white. Those things play a role for sure, I think I get a lot less hate than other people because of that. Still, I am really surprised at how kind and thoughtful most people are, before this, outside of the sexuality, with the sexuality, all of it."

Grant Magdanz never expected any of this to happen. Maybe that's OK anyway.