From Boston Magazine online…
by JONATHAN SOROFF
Not long after the virus first hit, I was in a committed relationship, so casual sex wasn’t really an issue. When the relationship ended, though, I realized the impact of the disease on my sex life. Sleeping with random guys was off the table. Even making out with someone at a bar seemed risky. I felt ripped off. I’d been faithful, but he’d cheated, and after kicking him out of our apartment and getting tested (and, I believe, paying extra to expedite the lab results), I wanted to cut loose. I’ve always thought that beyond it being consensual and not involving minors or dire physical harm, there are no moral imperatives connected to sex, and because being a “gay man” means being at least partially defined by your sexuality, I believe it’s a gay man’s birthright and prerogative to exercise that sexuality freely.
This was the late ’80s. Not 10 years earlier, bathhouses and tricking were accepted and celebrated parts of gay life. In 1978, at the hormonally supercharged age of 13, I visited my uncle in San Francisco and had to hide my titillation walking down Polk Street, with all the leather-clad men who looked like Tom of Finland had drawn them. I secretly purchased a steamy memoir about hedonistic gay sex in Paris nightclubs, and snuck over to a convenience store on the other side of town to buy copies of Blueboy and Mandate magazines. Then, not long after, HIV slammed the door shut on all of that, delivering a sharp slap in the face to a horny twentysomething. Now, a possible death sentence came along with getting physically intimate with a stranger. It was unspeakably unfair, and frightening.
Fast-forward to today, and here we are again, it seems. Although I’m now happily married, I was pleased to know that casual sex was beginning to steam up in recent years, thanks to pre-exposure prophylaxis and hookup apps such as Grindr, allowing sex parties and cruising the dunes of P-town to once again become possibilities. But then the novel coronavirus came roaring in. As self-isolation became the new normal, I was reminded of my experiences as a young man during the dark days of the HIV/AIDS crisis, and I sympathized with my uncoupled friends who were suddenly saddled with unsought chastity belts, their libidos on lockdown. Not to make light of it, but among its many horrors, COVID-19 has turned out to be a total cock block. Once again, the idea of physical contact is married to mortal danger, making me wonder whether and how COVID-19 has affected singles’ sexual behavior. Are we headed right toward another pandemic-induced Victorian era?
Read the full article.