Feeling Sexy and Socially Homeless

Bring back bathhouses to restore “purpose” and “belonging” to gay men.

Is it my age (58), the modern political queer zeitgeist of inclusion or a lack of physical venues to play in that has this gay man feeling adrift?

I think it’s yes, yes, and yes. 

I started this post exploring the challenges of getting gay old. I found that, according to SAGE (Advocacy and Services for LGBT Elders) and Blue Zones (a documentary about living beyond 100), purpose and belonging not only feel great but also make us live longer. 

So how do we get that? 

I’ve said it before, and I’ll keep saying it. The primary purpose that brings gay men together is our intrinsic instinct to fuck each other. The sense of belonging I felt when I entered my first gay bar was tied directly to my purpose—getting laid and falling in love.

I wanted to GET something. 

The older guys present understood what that “something” was. They told me how to get it and how to protect myself in the process. 

In my post, A lament for the good old gays, I cataloged many of the physical gay meet-up spaces that are now missing in Los Angeles. 

It’s time to build back better. 

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Is this a frivolous endeavor? 

Modern queer politics tells me that my status as a sexual minority is all that matters. That I am an activist first. That I am inextricably connected to all other sexual minorities. That I’m no longer fighting for gay rights. I’m fighting for queer rights. My primary purpose is to fight for social justice locked arm and arm with anyone who is not a cis-white-hetro-man. 

That’s a good attitude for fundraising, banquettes, and protest marches, but it’s not sexy and pulls focus from men’s primary purpose. Sharing energy with non-gay folk chills the erotic vibe, which is why so many gay men have evaporated from the all-inclusive events.

As a baby boomer adjacent (58-year-old) cis-white-gay-man, my experience in modern Queer activism has been painful. Attending the National LGBTQ Task Force’s Social Justice pre-conference taught me that my role now is to accept, apologize for, and receive all the pain caused by generations of people who share my race and gender. I take up too much space, talk too long, and don’t get it. 

Even though I was behind the organization’s purpose, I definitely did not leave feeling a sense of belonging.  

There is a recalcitrant attitude regarding the existence of spaces or events designed specifically for gay men. When the idea of creating spaces designed specifically for gay men comes up in conversation, even with other gay men, there is often a shame-tainted response, “Yeah, but what about X group who is still under attack?” 

We can do both. 

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July 19, 1993, West Hollywood, CA, intersection of Santa Monica Blvd & San Vicente Blvd. I grabbed this image of a cute “Angry Fag” protesting, “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell.” Even while fighting for our rights, we still made time for cruising.

For all its horrors, the AIDS era gave me an intense sense of belonging and purpose that I have not felt since. Protesting in the streets, visiting hospital rooms, faxing the governor’s office, kissing in front of news cameras as an act of rebellion, volunteering for AIDS organizations, blood work, funerals, good and evil, us and them. Fighting for the cause. Fighting for life itself. We had direction, belonging, and, most of all, purpose.  

Fuck, I miss that feeling. 

I understand why young activists want to feel the same thing. However, activism is more potent when it focuses on making stuff more than breaking stuff—making stuff like new laws, not breaking stuff by setting up circular firing squads to cull the non-pure. 

It’s 30 years later, and we have achieved most of the AIDS causes’ goals. If not cured, HIV is now manageable. Death from AIDS of gays in their 20s and 30s is relatively rare. We even have marriage equality to mitigate all the indignities of bio-families pushing grieving partners out of hospital rooms, funeral plans, and homes shared with their “lovers.”

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Bring sexy back, or they will not come.

I won a contest in the leather world and found purpose in advocating for radical sex as International Mister Leather 2007. But by the time I arrived on the leather scene in 2007, nearly all the hot guys I had seen in the photos and videos and read about in books like The Leatherman’s Handbook by Larry Townsend and Mr. Benson by John Preston were nowhere to be found. 

Even though the conversations regarding dominance & submission, brotherhood, kinky toys & gear, and the psycho/social varieties of kinky possibilities were intoxicating, it was rare to find peers who looked like me. There were few counterparts with whom I could share my kinky proclivities. Instead, I was stuck at banquette tables talking with gay Grandpas, telling me how hot it would be to play with them. 

These Grandpa gays have strangled “sexy” from their kinky clubs. They choose to hold on to power instead of embracing new blood and ideas. And by letting the trauma of AIDS forever paralyze their sexual expression so that actual sex is forbidden in their realm.  

So I returned to the gatherings of guys who looked like me. 

On the circuit dance floors of GPS, Hard, Pegasus, and Atlantis Events gay cruises, I'm able to enjoy wearing my gear while pressing my body against men who give me the erotic charge I was missing during the banquette conversations with the gay Grandpas. 

But those parties start at 11 PM and go on until 4 AM. The older I get, the more difficult it is to keep that schedule. 

Now, I want to GIVE something to the gay men’s community. 

I find purpose and belonging by providing spaces for gay men to enjoy their intrinsic instincts. I’ve done it by renting public venues, and I’ve done it in my home. I want a permanent venue where men can play, relax, and connect any day of the week. 

Instead of waiting for ALL the world’s inequities to be solved before my group’s needs are addressed, I’d like to go ahead and foster the altruistic nature of young gays who find belonging and purpose through building and protecting sex spaces for gay men. 

AIDS Project Los Angeles (APLA), an AIDS organization that still serves more than 15,000 clients annually, was a brainchild born on the dancefloor of Probe, one of the most popular gay dance clubs in L.A. I read that on a history display while passing through the main corridor as a client.  

Now, we need to flip the story.

From the sterile exam rooms, non-profit boardrooms, and rubber chicken dinner banquettes, it’s time to lean and say, “Let’s build something the community needs.” Something that lowers stress, creates relationships, offers peer support and health education, something that creates belonging and purpose. 

We need to open European-style bathhouses for men of all ages to gather. These spaces will include group discussion, meditation, naked yoga, spa treatments, food, drinks, a pool, and yes, lots and lots of mazes, private rooms, steam rooms, and open areas designed for gay sex. 

We need to sort out why the three intensely liberal cities of Los Angeles, San Francisco, and New York City still have laws on the books making that impossible.

This activism requires building something rather than tearing something down. It requires us to be generative and creative. It requires us to believe we are worth it. We must be willing to embrace who we are and what motivates us as gay men. We must be willing to stand together and do something specifically for gay men. We must stand in the light to share our vision with lawmakers and hold their feet to the fire when facing the eventual pushback that forms against all things sexual. 

Are you willing to get involved?