Finding Meaning With Your Pants Down

Navigating a plethora of social sexual pleasures to achieve spiritual purpose

Even in the highly specialized gay-male-sex-focused slice of the social universe, there are more options than even the most energized sexual-social-slut can attend. At least for those of us in big cities.

How do you decide where to spend your time, money, and energy?

So many boys!

In the small Idaho town I grew up in, we did whatever was on offer. The options were staying home or attending the one event in town. Then, I’d see everyone I knew at the concert, the bar, Bart’s house, the drive-in, or the kegger in a gully just outside town.

I brought that same social programming technique when I moved to the relatively “big city” of San Diego, California. Even with the energy of a 20-year-old, I could not attend everything on offer without running myself ragged.

At that age, I wasn’t good at making choices or saying no, so I allowed myself to be captured by men who would make those choices for me. It was my unconscious solution to the problem. I don’t recommend it. It caused many other problems, which is why I will be writing another post about boundaries.

So, if you’re not in a relationship with a controlling narcissist, and you have the freedom and the means to do anything? Where do you go? Who do you do it with?

Before the shutdown caused by COVID-19 finally ended, my husband and I eagerly attended any event producers had the courage to put out there, and the Idaho social calendaring technique worked just fine.

But now, all the options are back, including several new ones.

Recently my choices for Saturday included a naked pool party, a public dungeon party, two dance parties with play rooms (Hard! & Pegasus), a hookup with a visiting Mediterranean masseur, the bars within walking distance of my place (Eagle LA, Bar 4100, and Akbar), and TV on the couch with my sexy, horny husband.

With unlimited opportunities for pleasure and meaning, how do sexually social gay men choose where to focus their attention?

The short answer can be found somewhere between your butthole and your 3rd eye, between your root chakra and your intuition, somewhere between base pleasure for its own sake and a meaningful spiritual connection.

Although I doubt Brene Brown was thinking of sexual playgrounds when she uncovered this definition of spirituality, it defines the spiritual meaning I’m actively fostering while dancing with my ass out on the dance floor.

Spirituality is recognizing and celebrating that we are all inextricably connected to each other by a power greater than all of us, and that our connection to that power and to one another is grounded in love and compassion. Practicing spirituality brings a sense of perspective, meaning, and purpose to our lives.

Consciously choosing pleasure tied to inextricably connected experiences is the key to sorting out what to do and who to do it with.

So, why am I confused?

THERE’S A REASON I FEAR MEANING THAT’S TIED TO SEX

I still wrestle with the echoes of a culturally imposed dichotomy from my adolescent sex life, a false dichotomy that said erotic pleasure and existential meaning could not coexist. The pleasure I enjoyed from sex was at odds with being a “good person.” Gay sex threatened my relationships with my bio-family, church leaders, school teachers, and the proclamations of politicians at every level of government. Despite my wish to belong to those groups, I regularly committed acts antithetical to their teachings.

So, I compartmentalized my sex and social lives. Anonymous sex was a neat and tidy way to keep the pleasure I received from my encounters from touching the foundational relationships that gave me a sense of purpose, security, and love. While participating in the rituals of my family, spiritual, and town cultures, there was no room to acknowledge my affection, attraction, or lust for other men.

A regrettable byproduct of this approach was my disinclination to allow the vulnerability of love, connection, and affection into my sex life. Sex was a source of pleasure. Friends, family, and love were a source of meaning. Mixing the two was dangerous to both pleasure and purpose.

This mindset caused huge problems when I fell in love with my boyfriends. My love and affection for them had a deleterious effect on my erotic pull toward them. Love was a boner killer. It was a gay version of the Madona-whore complex. The slutty men I was experiencing so much pleasure with could not be the same men who gave my life meaning.

*****

With decades of introspection, including everything from talk therapy to plant medicine ceremonies, I’ve bridged that gap. Notably, Finn Deerhart, a sex and intimacy coach, got me over the biggest remaining hump. I am now quite adept at seeing my husband as the fuckable piece of meat he is, even though my love for him is tender and intense.

However, I’m still drawn to the old pleasure-for-pleasure’s-sake paradigm because 1) It’s easy — I’ve put in my 10,000 hours of practice and am confident in my ability to acquire anonymous sex. 2) Relationships take effort and are emotionally uncertain. 3) Change is difficult.

I have to make a conscious, sometimes uncomfortable, effort.

I still feel the pull to take the “safe” path; I let it have its moment in my mind and my balls, and then I consciously make decisions that will give me the spiritual payoff I now know is well deserved for us all.

So, let’s look at those sexual social options again.

A naked pool party, a public dungeon party, two dance parties with play rooms (Hard! & Pegasus), a hookup with a visiting Mediterranean masseur, the bars within walking distance of my place (Eagle LA, Bar 4100, and Akbar), and TV on the couch with my sexy, horny husband.

I went to the naked pool party with my husband and the dance party at Hard! on my own.

At those pool parties, I see more men I know and love at one time than I do anywhere else. Play is available, and I certainly enjoy it, but most of the square footage of the event is dedicated to no-phone socializing. With so many body parts to look at and no phones out, it’s surprising and wonderful to experience all the eye contact and the connection that comes with it. It makes this private event one of the most edifying I regularly attend. It’s a spiritual experience. So, yes, to the naked pool party.

Hard! is within walking distance of our condo, so I went there in part to meet neighbors. It’s also being produced by men I know who are creating sexual social spaces, and I want to support their efforts. My husband had a social thing early the next day, so he gave me his blessing and sent me there on my own. The familiarity caused by its proximity to home was strengthened, but most of the men I know had been at the pool party or were at the more glitzy Pegasus. I experienced a lot of pleasure, but it wasn’t a spiritual experience.

No, to the dungeon party. It’s been poorly attended in the past. It’s in the early afternoon, which is not a sexy dungeon time to me. And if I don’t bring my own guy(s), I will most likely not want to engage with who’s there. I do not feel connected to it. This is why I think I will bring my own guys next time it’s not on the same day as a pool party.

No, to Pegasus. Entirely because of scheduling. They have great music, a great dark room, and beautiful men. But it’s an event I’d prefer to attend with my husband. It goes until daybreak, and he had meaningful social connections to make early the next day.

No, to the Meditrainian masseure. It doesn’t matter how incredibly sexy he is. I didn’t know him and do not make it to the Mediterranean enough to invest in a hookup that would take time away from spiritual connections.

No, to the three local bars. I had no one to meet there and lots of friends who are family to see elsewhere.

Not yet, to TV on the couch with my sexy, horny husband. I knew we’d have hours of one-on-one time when he returned home on Sunday with a full heart after visiting his core group.

Making choices with love and compassion that focus on connection, and celebrating those intrinsic instincts that inextricably link us together, impart a sense of belonging, meaning, and purpose that is, indeed, spiritual.