Chapter 12 – Love & Sex part 3
The trouble with being a romantic is the difference between the
joy and exhilaration of being in love finds its counterpoint in the despair and
misery of love lost. Anthony and Cleopatra, Romeo and Juliet, the passion of
their romance only matched by the romance of their demise. The euphoria of
being in love and being loved reaching heights you never thought were possible
while the sorrows of love lost reaching depths unfathomable.
But, this chapter is titled part 3 and I am not going to
talk about love but about sex. I was contemplating not writing this chapter,
the impetus that led me to begin this series has waned. Much has happened since
I began talking about love and the chapters discussing some of my experiences
with men I have loved, but it somehow feel that it would not be fair on anyone
who reads this blog to not deliver as promised. So the things that are on my
mind now will need to wait, simmering in the back of my head, waiting for
another opportunity to come to the fore and move onto the page. Not that I
think this particular subject is of such a significant importance that it needs
to be discussed, far from it as will become apparent, but it has been mentioned
in earlier episodes and would appear as a missing chapter in the sequence of my
narrative if I don’t complete it.
Sex has played such an important part in my life that to
dedicate a whole chapter to discussing it seems appropriate, although it is
going to be a short one.
So on with the show as they say.
I think I need to explore what my motivation was in starting
this discussion on love & sex to begin with. As I have openly announced
through this blog I am a gay man who now finds himself to be HIV positive. I am
not an intravenous drug user (I’ll discuss drugs later), I have also never received
a blood transfusion, this leaves the most obvious infection source on the
table, sex, specifically man on man action involving penetration and thereby, exposure.
Today marks the 6 month anniversary of my GP telling me that my body was now
host to a retrovirus, something so small that it can’t be seen but so powerful
that it has change my whole life in ways I could never have imagined. Since
that moment in time the mere thought of being close to someone, the idea of
physical contact with another human being has been closed off. The fear that I could
possibly pass this invader onto someone else scares me into abstinence. The thought
of rejection if I was to discuss my status with a possible partner has driven me
to close down social contact and avoid placing myself into a situation where
someone I might be interested in will turn their backs. I have discussed the
rejection I received from the partners that I contacted when I was first
diagnosed. The fact that I had been socializing with many of them for 1 or 2
years so that we had moved well beyond a casual relationship into friendship
yet they were all able to discard me the moment they found out, does not give
me hope that a stranger will be any different when faced by my new reality.
I don’t intend for this discussion to appear, or read like
soft porn, I don’t plan on focusing on the details of my sex life although if
relevant to my point I will. I really want to talk more about the role of sex,
the function of sex and dynamics of sex as a social tool within the framework
of my life.
As a young teenager, going through puberty and coming into
the realisation of who and what I was, sex, as a concept began to take hold. This
is the period when we as humans begin to discover the true sense of self, when
we begin to understand who we are. The problem for me, and I suppose most other
gay youth, was the fact that any education we did receive on sex was conducted
within the arena of a biology class. This would inevitably revolve around an
understanding of the female/male sex organs and how the two of these interacted
for reproduction. Although I could understand the theory and purpose of this
process it did not provide me with any tools to use in exploring the feelings I
was developing. My sex education began when I was 13, with men I would meet in
parks or any other public venue that I discovered. I was a good student and
eager to learn, many of these men may have felt that they were taking advantage
of my youth but I was hungry for knowledge and with each new experience my repertoire
increased. I discovered how to make someone experience the pleasure of sex in
ways they hadn’t thought of. Some may think that due to my age at the time that
this was a bad experience and those I had sex with at that time should be
punished but nothing could be further from the truth. I was a willing and eager participant and was
soon enticing men into my embrace so that I could increase my experience. I was
never interested in getting to know these men, nor did they have any desire to
continue a relationship with me, but I grew because of them.
By the time I left school I was well and truly a sexually
active teenager. I had played with enough men to discover the many different
approaches to sex but more importantly I was discovering what it was that drove
my sexual desires. To anybody that knows me this revelation I was going through
may not come as a surprise, I think it forms one of the strongest components of
my personality make-up. My greatest desire was to make the other person happy. As
simple as that. I do not deal well with anybody near me displaying negative
emotions, anger, aggression or even disappointment results in me collapsing
internally. I have never been able to deal with situation where I find these
negative emotion displayed and if confronted with them I do not deal well.
Once I realised this, sex became like a philanthropic
activity. It was no longer necessary for me to be ‘horny’ to be drawn to a
sexual experience I simply had to come into contact with another male who was. I
discovered that all the euphoric feelings that accompany the orgasmic rush I could
receive almost through osmosis with my partner. My orgasm, although welcomed
and enjoyed was not necessary for my pleasure as long as I could experience the
pleasure I gave others.
This ability to separate my body and mind and to recognize that
what I do physically does not need to actually involve my conscious mind, has
led me into some amazing situations. It has led me into being very free and
easy when it comes to sex. I just realised that I used the word ‘free’ in that
last sentence but as I have said before in the chapter on ‘touch’ my ass has
not always been ‘free’. I think talking about the period when I was working the
streets being paid for sex may be a good place to explore my discussion. Some
people may find the topic of prostitution distasteful, and that is fine, it’s a
personal judgement, but much of that distaste, I think, stems from the
relationship that person has with their bodies and the value they place on the
act of sex. Unlike going to a bar and picking someone up whom you fancy, as a
sex worker your personal tastes were not involved, a client chooses you because
you appealed to their taste. This interaction really appealed to me sexually,
the dynamic of it all thrilled me. Here was a profession that revolved around
the very concept that was so ingrained into my sexual persona that we were
really a match. Remembering that I was also working in a well-paid position at
this time so the monetary value of working the streets was of no consequence I was
simple given a new and exciting way to have sex. Giving the person I was being
paid by an experience they would fell was ‘worth the money’ was easy. If I was
playing a passive role, which was the majority of the time I didn’t need to
orgasm to be satisfied and although they didn’t realise it, the guys I was with
would be giving me all the pleasure I needed, simply by enjoying themselves.
And so the story goes.
As I look back at my life I realise that the vast majority
of relationships I have had, whether a single encounter or one that lasts for
years all began with sex. I have used it as a tool to meet people, as a way of
avoiding unnecessary small talk or as a way to feel wanted. Sad isn’t it. I will
say that the conversations I have had with people after sex seem more genuine
than those I have had before sex. The need to impress is over, we have each
seen each other at our most vulnerable and it feels like there is nowhere to hide
so the real person is exposed.
Throughout my whole adult life my social life has revolved
around sex. It has been the primary, and at times only method I have used to
connect with anyone. But now I feel damaged, infected, undesirable and
worthless. I feel like a medieval leper who rings a bell to warn people of
their presence. My social skills have always revolved around the casual flirt
and now I feel I have nothing to offer. This is part of the reason I rarely socialize
outside of a gay venue or event. Flirting is so instinctive that even when
straight guys are present I will be thinking about bedding them and when I realise
what I am doing I back off through fear of their anger should they realise my
thoughts.
So my blood results tell me that I have a viral load in my
blood which is so low that it can’t be detected. Health/HIV organisations
around the world confirm that an undetectable viral load equates to an untransmitable
situation. As long as I remain on the treatment I can’t pass the virus onto
anyone else. I see that, I understand that, I accept that as a truth, but, it’s
in my head.
I’ve moved in the last 6 months from having 3-4 partners a
week to zero. 3-4 partners a week may seem like a lot but this was, for me,
quiet. I only dropped to this number a couple of years ago, previously through
my 20’s, 30’s and 40’s this would be an average day on the weekend with a few
more thrown in through the week, now to zero. The physical contact that
provided me with a continual stream of endorphins, which kept my mind and body
uplifted has gone. And like a drug, for drug it is, I am now going through the
depression of withdrawal, but unlike a drug it has taken with it my
self-confidence, my desire to meet people, my desire to connect and even my
desire to be around people. I know that
sex is not who I am, but it has been such a large component of my life I’m
feeling at a loss without it. Sex is no longer going to be an easy thing for me
to be involved with, it’s now a serious and scary conversation that I will have
to have before I actually get to know someone. With the experiences I have
already gone through with those that I knew before I found out I was positive I
don’t think I am ready to face further rejection. The trouble is that I sit
here looking out of my window watching the ‘beautiful people’ walk by and I realise
that I am re-enacting the classic image of isolation and depression on some
doctors office wall poster.
Sex, sex, sex, I can’t give it up, can’t live without it, or
rather wonder, is it worth living without it. The damage that the last 6 months has
done to my mental health is immense. It has destroyed my ability to be open to
or even responsive to the idea of sex. I flirt with guys because it’s
instinctive but when I realise that they are flirting back I withdraw in case
they propose to progress beyond the flirt. Or more often I realise that someone
is flirting with me and I hold back my response which would be to return the
flirt because I can’t let it progress, for fear of being hurt.
Until I can get my mental health into some kind of order I don’t
think I am going to be able to allow myself to be open to people. I recognize that
what I am going through is my own internalised stigma but that’s not even half
the battle, merely the first volley over the trenches, it may be a war with
many battles.
