Flatten the curve,

Wear a mask.

Stay at home.

Wash your hands.

We’ve heard it all before, and I for one am so tired of it. Not the lockdown, but the actual pandemic. Don’t get me wrong, I love staying home. This entire experience is like an introvert’s paradise. What I love more than being all by my lonesome is sex. God, I love sex. I love sex and all the messiness and minutiae that comes with it. I love catching a man’s attention from across the bar and the awkward conversations we have to navigate while fully knowing the inevitable is going to happen. I love that air of mystery where neither of us knows what to say and we’re left wondering, “When will he take me home?” and then finally he makes a move. I love the smell of a man’s musk as it catches my nostrils for a brief moment piercing through the cloud of cologne that he scrambled to spray in his room to hide any lingering stench. The way his beard covers his smile, but I know from the wrinkles in the corners of his eyes how happy he is to be here with me. The way his salty skin tastes as I gently scrape the side of his neck with the tip of my tongue, and through his mirror I’m watching his clothes gracefully fall to the ground like the first leaf of autumn. The way his warm erection seems to fit perfectly in my hand. The way the precum leaves a slight stain on our underwear and how the fluid stretches between my fingers telling me he’s ready to fuck me. The way my mouth completely wraps around his entire shaft you would think that they were made to fit. The way his eyes pierce mine as his hard throbbing cock slowly enters me, stimulating every nerve, shooting waves of pleasure up and down my body, and there’s no telling where our bodies begin and where it ends. I love the way we simultaneously gasp in excitement because in that moment our bodies become one. The way his mouth catches mine and his tongue steers my tongue in all the right directions, leaving a faint taste of whiskey and mouthwash in its trail. The way his rhythmic thrusting synchronizes with my heartbeat as if to say that he understands my body so intimately. The way his deep rumbling growl whispers sweet nothings in my ear and sends shivers through my entire body, and he knows exactly the right volume to put me over the edge bringing me to such a sweet, explosive orgasm that my legs tighten and my toes curl and my body screams in what can only be described as heavenly bliss. And I love the way our bodies relax after convulsing in the throes of a mind-blowing fuck session and how we soak in the afterglow of sweat and cum, leaving the physical world behind even for a few minutes because, for all we know, this bed and our bodies are the only things that are real.

And then all that gets taken away.

It’s absolute torture when you are denied one of the greatest pleasures in life. Humans aren’t meant to be locked up from each other like this. Make no mistake. This is not an anti-mask/anti-lockdown diatribe. I just really need to be held right now. How I crave the sensation of a man’s embrace where I feel so secure in the tightness of his firm biceps. But I’m here. I’m home. I’m doing my part to help bring the world back to normal, but social media has shown that not everybody thinks like this. And it’s a punch in the gut.

If you are like me and you’re part of Gay Twitter, you would know about the recent Instagram phenomenon known as @gaysovercovid. It’s an account dedicated to exposing gay men (mostly white and muscular) who are breaking quarantine rules in order to gather in large droves for parties and travels. In their feed you’ll see Venmo receipts for AirBnb’s, screenshots of extremely toned shirtless selfies, and recordings of oversized colourful fans clacking to the beat of the music going “un ts un ts.” If you’re human then your gut reaction is to shame and point fingers at them. Our brains reward us with happy chemicals for being “more righteous” than them. We’re rewarded even more when we see their boat sinking and letting karma do our bidding. It’s interesting how easy it is to look down on people and call yourself the “better person.”

On the other side of the argument, the party-goers and circuit queens alike go out of their way to say that shame is harmful and does nothing but make us look like some self-righteous pricks. As of this writing, and to my knowledge, there is a bounty placed on the head of the account owner of @gaysovercovid. Whoever is able to identify them will get $500. Quite the incentive. These queens are not entirely wrong. If you look back on your high school sex education, all they ever did was shame us. It was never about reducing harm or knowing what to call our genitals. The goal was to make us stop having sex completely. Did that work? They told us that STIs would be the mark of death, but here we are. Still fucking. I remember that scene in Mean Girls when Coach Carr told his students to “not have sex or you’ll get pregnant and die.” It’s not that different than when we tell vacationers that they’ll die because they fucked off to some tropical island.

At the core of this entire situation is a much needed discussion on racism, sexism, ableism, homophobia, privilege, body image, and sexual expression to name a few. Within this discourse the subject of the AIDS epidemic of the 1980s when HIV ravaged its way through North America’s gay male population will come up, and nuance can get lost in the chaos. I will try my best to keep this part of the blog as linear and as clear as I can to the best of my ability. Sex is such an integral part of gay sexuality that a book called How to Have Sex in an Epidemic: One Approach by Berkowitz and Callen was published to help men who have sex with men figure out ways to have sex while minimizing the spread of HIV. While HIV/AIDS and COVID-19 are not the same, there are similarities worth noting. There’s the pursuit of pleasure and validation at the expense of health, the constant need for sexual gratification through increasingly high-risk activities in the face of the unknown, and another topic that comes to mind is the dynamic of accountability. Who holds that power? Who gets to yell at people for being out of line? Who among us gets to throw the first stone? In the time of a pandemic, we are not only accountable for our bodies but also the bodies of others. Shame is our weapon and our best defense against those who dare brag about being wild and free and believe that a lockdown does not apply to them. It’s the only thing we know how to do because, as gay men, that’s all we’ve been taught since birth. “Be ashamed of you who you are.” In the Netflix original series Big Mouth, there is a delightfully evil character I enjoy named the Shame Wizard who does exactly what his name says; he shames you for who you are, your body, and your actions. What I enjoy about the Shame Wizard is the thesis of his existence:“Even though I’m a bit harsh at times, I only want you to be a better person.” That’s the thing with shame. It’s a double-edged sword. You don’t get to look like the bigger person without looking like a monster.

I’ve been on both sides of the shame argument. I have fired my fair share of shame ammo only for the bullets to ricochet back to me. I will confess that I did have sex. This was at a time when the numbers in the city were much lower than where they are now. Yes, it was with guys I was familiar with. I trust all of them as they trust me. We all tested negative and made sure to stay in our own bubbles. We have a history because we have been fucking since before the pandemic. I calculated a risk and I took it. I will admit that I consider myself lucky for having quarantine fuck buddies. I realize that I may have some privilege, and I am probably in no position to make the following complaint: Having the same partners over and over again can get stale and make sex boring, and the novelty of sex starts to fade. The temptation to find a new partner creeps up in the back of my mind because I yearn for that newness as I described in the beginning of this entry. Personally I find the fun in sex and pleasure through new experiences, and it feels that I have been robbed of those new experiences. In my pursuit of pleasure, I have been on the receiving end of shame. Honestly, it sucks. It does not feel good knowing that I may have possibly put another person at risk all because I wanted to get laid. At the same time, I have been quick to call out those who have been in the wrong. Back in the summer of 2020, a man from Minnesota named George Floyd was murdered by the local police. This sparked outrage across the entire globe bringing Black Lives Matter to the front of everyone’s screens. And just like that, I was the one with the weapon. If you were following me on any social media during that summer, you would have seen me calling out members of the gay community for their racism. I was targeting porn stars, content creators, and internet celebrities and calling them out on their racism. I knew what I was saying had an effect as I was getting blocked left and right. I was the superior one. I was the one fighting the good fight and telling people “I’m better than you.” I’m still sitting here thinking if that made any difference. If it did, I hope it was a positive one.

When the thrill of shaming dies down and our reward system takes a seat, you’re forced to confront your own demons and reflect. In therapy, I learned that I sought out love from others because I believed I was unable to love myself and that I'm a worthless person. I used to pursue sex, and dangerous sex at that, in order to feel validated and wanted not knowing that this brief tryst will not give me the long-term satisfaction I need to live a full and happy life. I know for a fact that a lot of people, especially gay men, face that same problem. I have seen people tweet sentiments to the tone of, “I’m not scared of COVID. If I die, then it’s my time.” I’m still working on that sense of worthlessness in therapy, and I’m proud to say that I have made a lot of progress in that department. It also got me thinking that maybe these people who are breaking quarantine to travel and advocating “anti-mask protests” might be going through that same sense of worthlessness. I’m not diagnosing them or anything, but I’m thinking…are they that deeply unable to love themselves that they have to project that insecurity onto others and make them feel the same way and put them at risk of infection? If that’s the case, then wow I am truly sorry for what you’re going through.

As you can tell by the thoroughly detailed opener I express love through physical touch, but it pains me to know that my love language could possibly put someone at risk. Do we deserve to be stabbed with the shame sword because we’re trying to fight this loneliness in the best way that we can at the risk of spreading infection? Maybe so. But what good has stabbing each other done for any of us? Honestly I wish there was some clearly defined answer, but the truth is nobody knows how the fuck to handle this mess. Even world leaders have proven that point. What do we do? What can we do? It is important to hold each other accountable so that we all get out of this together, but is shaming and cancel culture the only way to handle this? Is cancelling someone the only means of managing accountability? Arguably not. (Although it is really fun and cathartic.) If you’re staying home and wearing a mask, thank you. I appreciate you. If you’re playing the social justice warrior wielding your weapons of shame online, I will not fault you. Just remember that shame may be more counterproductive than we think. If you’re still going out and partying and heading to some warm tropical country, please take a step back try to understand why those of us who choose to stay home are so justified in our anger. People will find ways to seek connection and pleasure no matter the situation. But when we see it shamelessly flaunted over Instagram, it feels like a betrayal and a mockery.

Sex. Love. Shame. Social Justice. Pandemonium. Where does that lead us? How do we find genuine fulfilling connection amidst all this chaos that feels like it denies us connection? If we can take away anything from this entire experience, I believe it’s the valuable lessons in loving oneself and giving each other the patience, time, and space to adapt. It’s fine not knowing how to handle all this craziness, but give yourself a break. I love myself enough to try and keep myself and others out of harm's way and checking in on them be it through Zoom or other methods. I love myself enough to make a sacrifice important to me like giving up new sexual experiences. I love myself enough to find ways to improve in my own little space be it an online class or substituting in-person sex for cyber sex. I love myself enough to at least try to be more aware of the consequences of my actions and the part I play in accountability dynamics. I can only hope those who are not so lucky to love themselves can find their way back. Only then can we start to have deeper meaningful discussions on public health and harm reduction. Be well.