What can I possibly write about online hook up sex sites that hasn’t been said?

I’ve been off them for a couple of years since a guy I was seeing made me delete the last of the profiles I had, which was basically to stay in touch with a lot of guys I know in Europe.

The last straw for me came when this guy I was with looked at me and said, “Ya I took some GHB, didn’t I put any in your drink?” I’m no prude, but since I put “NO PNP” in my profile, and the fact I’ve O.D’d on this stuff before, I didn’t take kindly to the prospect of nonconsensual drug use.

Fortunately there was none in the drink, as I know all to well what it tastes like and its effects. It was the fact my choice could have been taken away from me that hurt.

For the last couple of years I’d rely on a couple of dwindling fuck buddies that I could call up. Slowly this was turning into a pretty sexless life.

My return to the avenue of online shopping was prompted by my trip to Tel Aviv. First the guys are super hot there; I had to meet a few. Secondly, I don’t go to bars to meet people anymore, and I don’t drink.

Feeling not that confident anymore, I snapped a webcam shot of myself thinking that at least if they message me it will be the most recent photo I can have. To my surprise, I learned that being “fresh meat” in Tel Aviv, even being me, means there’s a lot of demand. I think over the month I got about 70 messages. I was shocked!

The problem in Tel Aviv is that everyone has their heads buried very deeply in their asses about HIV. Despite there being over 7,000 positive guys in the area, when I disclose I’m treated like I’m the first poz person they’ve ever encountered. I get the questions. I tell them, there are 7,000 guys here who are positive, you’ve fucked many of them, don’t treat me like I’m the first.

Suddenly there is a concern about doing this or doing that, even though they are happy to do this or do that with those who don’t disclose. This different environment that I’m used to took me back a bit. I had to decide what was the best way to do this.

It wasn’t like I have having sports sex on the hour.  I didn’t mention it at fiirst until we were talking face to face. It’s not my favourite way, but at least if someone is going to be an asshole, they can do it to my face instead of just ignoring a message I’ve sent.

Coming back to Canada I decided to create a couple of profiles. I’ve always thought there is something odd about gay Torontonians, and going back online really confirmed it.

Suddenly, (fresh-meat syndrome excluded) on the first site, there was no interest at all. Something happened to me over the course of flying those 6,000 miles back home. This site is exactly the same as it was several years ago - stale with the same 60 to 70 odd guys parked waiting for someone to message them.

The second one is marginally better as I will log on and see a few messages. In each I’ve said I’m positive at the end of my written portion.

I don’t like the sites that force me into disclosing. I usually do anyway, but I’d like that choice. It feels like I’m being outed to be avoided.  I like to have the choice on how I disclose such issues.

The lay of the land has changed quite a bit. I highly suspect the D&D free people are negative looking to bareback “safely.” So in essence we have many barebacking sites even if we don’t call them that.

There is a bit of dishonesty there, as they go out of their way to exclude, but can’t say it’s because of barebacking.

One guy I met off of this site, during our email exchange asked about my status. He’s very young, in his twenties. I wrote him back and expected to hear nothing back. Instead I received a nice reply saying we could still play “safely.”

What I didn’t realize is our two-tiered sex reservation system. Namely, the best sex (first class) is without condoms, flying economy, you use condoms; both of these will get you to your destination, just one is more desirable. So the HIV status question can be more about determining what kind of sex is available. But it's hard to know what are someone's motives. 

Perhaps with Israeli HIV-stigma fresh in my mind, I began to feel like an outsider looking in and much more so than I had ever in the past.

As per a friend’s recommendation I went on a barebacking site. I never ever contemplated such sites before in my life.  To my surprise I got 30 messages in a week. 

Even with people condemning such an act, I did it and was surprised to see that I was no longer on the inside looking out. This is a very low stigma site. I don’t use condoms with other positive guys anyway, so what the hell.

The irony is that the sites that I once scorned and judged are the very ones that I find the most affirming. Really who wants to be at a party where nobody wants you, which is how Manhunt & Gaydar etc. begin to feel like.

I’ve now successfully turned around my sexless life, one of my goals I can cross off of my "to do" list post-Tel Aviv. 

or find sex?

"I'm looking for mostly str8 guys with gf / wife. Not into fem / openly gay guys at all. MUST BE TOTALLY CLEAN! I am DDF [Drug and Disease Free, ed. note] and expect to stay that way, so if you show up with a dirty cock and ask to to fuck or be fucked bareback, I'm going to ask you to leave.

– Craigslist personal ad, Men Seeking Men, New York City, spelling as in original

I have always depended on the kindness of strangers.

– Blanche DuBois, A Streetcar Named Desire, Tennessee Williams

Just go ahead and admit it: you too have a profile on what we usually euphemize, tactfully, as a gay dating site. Which is just a polite, family-friendly way of describing an online service primarily useful for those people – you know the kind – that really truly need to get laid right this very instant. All in good clean fun, of course, and boys will be boys. Even for the merely casually interested, these sites open a window into the desires of gaydom, stripped down to their glossy essentials; sex tweets, I call them, photo-enhanced portraits of desire.

What they’re not, I’d warrant, is an accurate glimpse of gay men themselves. This has little to do with the wonders of Photoshop, and more with the standards we seek to impose on complete strangers or portray ourselves as meeting. Fat? Sorry, buddy, you’re out of luck. Old? Nice try, next please. Not straight-acting enough? When the entire point of the exercise is, wait for it, gay sex? Really?

They also, often enough to be noticeable, reflect a chilling complacency about sexual health, if not wanton ignorance. Take that nice little word ‘clean’. Presumably, it’s not in reference to skincare, but to STDs, HIV among them.

There are two problems with verbiage like this. One of them is that it’s blatantly offensive.

Words have unique power. The words you read, think, speak or hear shape your world like so much molded clay. Words don’t just articulate reality, they create and structure it. For you, for me, for everyone. The idea that someone with HIV isn’t clean while someone without is should give decent people pause; both in terms of the value system of the person who uses the term and of its effect on the un-clean, the dangerous, the other. Not to put too fine a point on it: this kind of language, marginalizing and cruel, is one of the stigmata that have historically preceded mankind’s periodic convulsions of barbarism, from the slaughter of Native Americans through the Holocaust to the AIDS epidemic.

The other problem is, quite simply, that dividing up people into clean and unclean , disease-free or poxed is ineffective as a tool of sexual health. It might be otherwise in an ideal world where every man speaks or even knows the truth, always and without exception; but that’s not the world we live in, is it now? If it were so, internet inches wouldn’t be a phrase that elicits reactions from amusement to dismay.

Guy1: How long is your penis? 
Guy2: 7 inches... 
Guy1: So that's like 8 and a half adding internet inches.

Between deception and cruelty – and it is cruel, sometimes, the way gay men treat one another, and not just as far as HIV is concerned – what is the point of all this? Why do some, many, a few of us do any of it? It is quite ironic, isn’t it, that good people from the President of the United States on down make videos about bullying and hurtful language, all the while we slap each other around in the online meat markets.

Allow me to theorize. I think it’s a synecdoche, a surface glimpse into the deeper problems gay men, poz or otherwise, have with one another and ourselves.

For one thing, gay men in the western world have never entirely come to terms with the devastating losses of the AIDS epidemic. We don’t have an institutional memory articulated as it is at, say, Yad Vashem, the Holocaust foundation in Jerusalem. Every year, the Jewish community across the globe marks Yom Ha’Shoah, Holocaust Remembrance Day; in Israel, the entire nation falls silent for several minutes.

Granted, we have World AIDS Day, but what of it? Do we mark it as a community, remember those we lost, come together in grief, or are we just quietly glad that the cup has passed us by, many of us at least, and let the day fade as it may?

Just consider the raw numbers. We have lost, in North America alone, anywhere between a tenth to a third of gay men. Those are mortality rates that easily make AIDS a genocidal event, and before anyone gets complacent, one that’s certainly not over yet. Nor will it be anytime soon, if present numbers hold.

The Jews of Europe – or the Armenians, or Stalin’s kulaks, or any number of other peoples subject to decimation – weren’t held responsible for their own fate.  We are, by society and often enough by our own.

Of course, there are differences between our losses and the supreme evil of the Shoah. No totalitarian state, Cuba aside, interned gay men, or sent us into gas chambers; no Arbeit macht frei for us. But it wasn’t necessary to do so, was it? All that was required, certainly here in the United States under the Reagan administration, was simple malign neglect. Ignorance and fear did the rest.

We have never come to terms with that betrayal or the fear it nurtured or created. Combine that with ongoing pervasive discrimination and our own Darwinian aesthetics, and the result can’t but be toxic.

I’m under no illusions that a single magazine piece can change this. But the next time you log on to get off, try being just a little bit kinder to strangers. Hey, it’s free, and even pretty boys like yours truly will notice.

Especially when we’re pissed off that you seem unable to distinguish inches from centimeters. 

So after my last post when I revealed to the world that my spate of celibacy had ended, I have been on a couple of dates, nothing to shout about huh, we all do it with a greater or lesser degree of success. Having had the casual shag with the hairy Lebanese guy, I thought it would relieve some of the pressure I put on myself.

But it dawns on me that at 43 I’m just not that good at casual sex, never really have been, to be fair. I would much rather feel a connection with someone and have sex as a journey than just wham bam thank you Sam (or whatever his name may be).

I have re-installed all the ‘dating app’s’ (read – are you available for a fuck app’s) on the old iPhone, and I have been chatting to a few guys with an outlook towards meeting people. For some reason I seem to be getting a lot of attention from 20 year-old twinks.  Now you have to understand even when I was myself a 20 year-old twink I wasn’t interested in them, so it is a little frustrating

I’m sure we have all felt times that we seem to not attract those we are interested in. Makes me beg the question “do we all aspire too high or not high enough?” (Sorry if I sound like Carrie Bradshaw right now.) This is a topic I have covered before in my personal blog, but it does perplex me as to why some people message others. Myself, I barely have the courage to leave a track on the profile on people whom I am interested in, let alone send a wink, a grope or a woof.

Yesterday I received a message from a guy on ‘Scruff.’ I read the message before looking at his picture.  I’ll be honest in saying I was a complete grammar Nazi and was about to correct his when I flicked back to his picture. This 29 year-old guy is a lean mean sex machine, and the first thought to enter my head as all thoughts of bad spelling flew out of it was, ‘why the hell is this guy interested in me?’

We chatted a bit; he apparently knows me from somewhere, although I have no recollection of ever having seen him in my life. I suggested that since I am a bit of a poster boy for HIV in London that he may have seen me in the GMFA campaign or an associated article, or possibly have bumped into me in a bar.

His reply was that he never goes to bars and “what’s GMFA?” . It turns out he was a member of the gym I use for a month and he saw me there. Now at the gym I never bother to cruise or even really pay much attention. The gym is my time; it’s the one part of the day other than being at home when I don’t have to talk to anyone, my job is very social able and there are times I get to hate the sound of my own voice so the gym is very much GLASSES OFF/HEADPHONES ON time. So apart from the fact I cannot really see anyone clearly I’m usually singing along to whatever is my music of choice at the time (huge music geek – just so you know)

But back to the dating game; it dawns on me yet again what an absolute minefield that world is. On my online profiles I very clearly define my status; this has resulted in conversations with a multitude of people admiring my honesty and opening up dialogue with people about their own personal journey since diagnosis. Which is all well and good, but I’m HUSBAND HUNTING. Putting oneself out there is a double edged sword in some ways;  there are times that militant, activist, awareness Denis wants to take a back seat and have some romance. Maybe I am looking in the wrong places, and maybe like many of the celebrities whose hair I do, I am beginning to realise that once you put yourself out there in a certain form, people will begin to see you in a one-dimensional way. And at times I think this must make anyone who makes a stand want to retire from the front-line and just enjoy his or her own life.

But I doubt I will do that. If my experiences with HIV and/or depression help one single individual avoid suffering, infection or stigma then of course I will keep making noise and smile when people approach me with questions. It is after all our duty to help those who struggle and I mean that in regards to life, not just health.

Sorry I am rambling again. I am supposed to be talking about dating.

I am meeting the lean mean 29 year old sex machine, who if he has read my profile and not just looked at my handsome picture (irony) is aware of my status.  We are meeting tomorrow for lunch, after I go to the gym in the morning for the first time in ten days, (not been going due to a trapped nerve in my shoulder) so I will probably push myself way too hard while there and go and order a salad for lunch, as I am overly conscious of my shape and size right now. And am already worried about what he thinks of me and in the back of my mind thinking about a comment I made last week.

I have been rejected by men more often for being a smoker than I have for being HIV-positive. So maybe I will stick a nicotine replacement patch on after showering and see what happens.

Wish me luck.

PositiveLite.com says : The following editorial by Matt Thomas (below, left) first appeared in fab magazine’s October 12, 2011 edition. We liked it a lot, so we wanted to give it another airing.  It speaks eloquently to the casual racism that sometimes exists in how we relate to others different to ourselves. For HIV-negative guys  - and those who think they are  – sometimes people living with HIV are outsiders in UB2-land too.,  For UB2-land can be a place where besides being white, antiseptic and boring,  it’s where only the “clean” and “disease free” – loaded terms, both – are welcome.

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Life is full of disappointments, especially when things don’t match up to your expectations. I’m thinking of the first time I saw Madonna live in concert and the moment I realized university was as much of a joke as high school, except I had to pay for it. Most of the time we just have to accept that things aren’t always what they are cracked up to be and move on. Most of the time.

I’ll never forget being 18 and at Woody’s for the third time ever, back when I could count the number of gay men I knew on one hand. As I was leaving the bar just after last call, a black manager was tossing out a drunk-and-disorderly white guy. What came out of the drunk’s mouth as he hobbled down the stairs was some of the most racist filth I’d ever heard in public. A little part of my idealistic attitude toward the gay community died that night. I couldn’t believe how, with all the shit we have to deal with from the rest of society, any gay guy could possibly be racist. When so many people hate us simply for being who we are, how could any one of us turn around and do the same to someone else?

But a quick perusal of any gay online dating and cruising website shows that many gay men have no problem presenting themselves as racists. There are basic statements that specify an undesirable race or races and more enraging commentary, ranging from food metaphors — “no curry, no chocolate, no rice” — to blatantly offensive nuggets like “speaky English please.” It doesn’t end with race, though; many guys throw in derogatory statements about body type, age and notions of masculinity to round out a write-up they hope will score them a hot date or satisfying romp. Because judgmental, offensive assholes are super sexy? How did we get to a point where this kind of language is commonly used and the rest of us do nothing? If you heard a guy at a bar proclaim to someone’s face the kinds of things that are written on people’s profiles, it would be revolting and would invite confrontation from sympathetic onlookers.

Harvard University researcher Andras Tilcsik recently did a study where he sent out two copies of the same resumé to employers: one with a left-leaning political club referenced and another that named a gay organization. The results showed there was a 40 percent higher chance of the perceived-to-be heterosexual applicant getting an interview. Researchers at the Williams Institute are looking into the negative physical effects of stressors that stem not from outright acts of homophobia but from small things, like worrying about whether you should hold your partner’s hand in public. There are enough outside forces trying to cut us down; we shouldn’t be doing it to ourselves. We will never find out what we want, sexually or romantically, by projecting what we don’t want or feel we shouldn’t want. Think of it in the same way as the table manners our mothers tried to instill in us. If you don’t like something, just politely decline. But remember all the things we were afraid to try as kids, that we judged before we even tasted, that are now our favourite things. You never know what they are until you taste them for yourself.

Matt Thomas

I’m not sure if it was the last full moon, the recent cold snap or if I was one of the featured members on the yes, no or maybe option on the online dating site I am hooked up to but OMG! After three months from signing up, I have suddenly become a hot commodity. I have been bombarded by all kinds of interested candidates trying to grab my attention… and a few of my body parts as well.

There is definitely a portion of would be suitors looking for a quick “hook up”, especially when you are online and the chatting option is available. “Where do you live? Are you up for a visit? Are you a top or bottom?” I find it more hilarious than vulgar, as I am not the least bit interested in a quick hook up. Isn’t that what Craig’s List or the steam baths are for?

What about the men whose profiles state they are looking for women and yet leave messages wanting to meet you? What’s up with that? I maybe confused but not half as much as they are. I chatted with one guy that went into detail about a necking session he had with another guy though he swears he is totally heterosexual. He just wanted to talk to someone about it, but why me? One could blame the full moon for this one. For some reason, I seem to be attracting these types as well and it’s not just a local occurrence.  Doesn’t Vancouver or Halifax have help lines for these people to reach out to?

There is also a portion of admirers that just didn’t do it for me. I was gracious in letting them down and wishing them luck in their searches, as I would hope others would do to me if the roles were reversed. It isn’t always “good manners” online but then again that is a reflection of ones personality and not a trait I find endearing.

Well, I must say, it isn’t all weird and awkward. I have had several interesting connections that have even led to marathon phone conversations and the promises of getting together. Since I am adapting to a new job and busy with a few other things I have put off the next step for now. We’ll see if a little distance can make the heart grow fonder. In a couple of cases, there is actually some distance between us as they live in other cities (not Vancouver or Halifax, by the way). I look forward to meeting them when they are in town and will see if there is potential.

I finally mustered up the courage to go out on a date about six weeks ago...prior to my bike accident. He was eager to meet me and after a couple of weeks of emails and chats I agreed to do just that. His picture, profile and conversations certainly had an appeal. We walked through Allen Gardens, one of my favorite get-aways in the heart of Toronto, and around the adjacent neighborhood on a balmy Sunday afternoon. I realized fairly quickly that there was no love connection between us and he wasn’t the gay for me.

Affairs of the heart can take time, especially with the step-by-step process one has to follow when online dating. The variety of would be suitors make it a necessity to proceed at a sensible pace. This may be the path to follow to eventually stumble upon just the right gay.