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18
#QXGayLondon
Suitable only for persons of 18 years and over.
GAY LONDON
LET’S GET TWISTED AT EASTER…
with
QX
presents
the wildest
club, bar
and
cabaret
events
to shake a
tail feather at
over the long
weekend
print + web
APRIL
QXMAGAZINE.COM
iPad + iPhone
The
Truth
We
Hide
By Patrick Cash
I
have a pretty hairy body,
naturally. Not like Planet of the
Apes-level but a fair amount
of fine, dark hair from my Irish
heritage grows across my chest,
narrowing into a healthy ‘treasure
trail’ down my navel. Between my
pectorals the hair concentrates
and grows in a particularly thick patch.
When I used to go out clubbing every
weekend, I’d shave my chest hair. It was
time-consuming and arduous, but I wanted to
heighten my powers of attraction to a Shard-
like pinnacle, to get a look of lust from every
guy in that club.
You see, when I was 22 (I’m 28 now) and
not long on the scene, I’d had my top off,
dancing drunkenly in a club when a cute DJ had
rocked up. I smiled. He smiled. He said: ‘Nice.’
I felt great: valued and attractive. Then he
ran the back of his fingers through my chest hair.
‘Apart from this.’
Combined with working in a gay bar at
the time that worshipped smooth-skinned
gay twink beauty, it was out with the Mach 3,
mirror and lather.
Yet recently, at this big club night full of
a million beautiful, wide-eyed Ken dolls, I
was inebriated, horny and hadn’t shaved. Ah
fuck it, I thought, maybe it’s all in my head. I
whipped off my top and had a wander.
People dropped their drinks with shock;
a meph dealer passed out on the spot; a fag
hag threw herself screaming from the top
balcony. Nobody missed her. I saw a guy I’d
slept with before – I hardly had to walk far –
dancing away with his smooth, muscled torso
and I said hello.
His grin faded in exact time to the motion
of his eyes as they gazed slowly down my
bare body.
‘I didn’t know you had –‘ and he rubbed
his fingers in an exact echo of the way that DJ
had before ‘– this.’
Did I just have particularly disgusting
chest hair? I’d never had any complaints
from ex-boyfriends or shags I’d slept with
when unshaved. It only seemed to happen
when out in clubs. I wondered if there
might be some quick reflection of what the
gay scene finds attractive that I could flick
through, to find out if the scene really hates
on the hair.
Oh, yeah there is: it’s called
QX.
Actually, on last week’s cover the model
did have a healthy smattering of follicles.
The
pedestal of
perfection
is cut clear:
smooth,
ripped,
bronzed,
youthful,
chiselled.”
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qxmagazine.com
“However much you shave, wax, bench press,
bleach or tan, if it’s only for validation in
other people’s eyes, you’re never going to
reach a pedestal of personal happiness.”
Is this really what we want from our
culture? ‘Hi, I’m an eyebrow-plucked, anally-
bleached H&M mannequin who totally
worships Regina George in a totally non-ironic
way because I believe her moronic cruelty is
fierce
and ‘you can’t sit with us’ unless you
look the same.’
But actually we have
nothing
to say to one
another, so we’re just going to sit here sending
dick pics to each other on Grindr to give us
another extra, vacuous sense of judgement and
control like a shallow layer of oil rippling over
the raging waters of what’s going wrong inside.
What’ll happen later? Dunno, maybe we’ll go
under on G, because however much we obsess
about our bodies as shells, we don’t take care
for them as homes for our souls.
We’re allowed to say we’re unhappy with
the way things are. We don’t have to stop
going to the gym, or throw ourselves mouth-
first into a swimming pool full of Haribo, and
we don’t have to ‘let ourselves go’. Unless
letting ourselves go means just relaxing in
the company of good friends who don’t care
how we look, because those warm bonds are
forged on how it
feels
to be around us.
I look back at the best sex I’ve had in the
past decade. I’ve had some good sex with
guys who look like the physical ideal, but I’ve
also had some terrible sex: like I’m having sex
with a beautiful shadow. Somebody who’s not
quite real: because when you’re tearing away
all that’s natural about you, you’re paint-
stripping away your truth inside.
I’m not going to state here that I’m never
going to shave my chest again, like the
suffragettes and their armpits. Maybe I’m not
strong enough to stand alone on the rocks
against the pounding waves of what my scene
demands from me. I want to be accepted. But I
can begin the dialogue of how one day we can
find a greater acceptance in a greater truth.
Other than that, of all the thousand topless
torsos in photos, hairy chests only appear
to exist at bear clubs (a given), on a safe sex
advert and as an extra in
Bathhouse: the
Musical.
But does the gay media influence
or stream the gay thinking on attraction?
I needed a second, authoritative source to
make this investigation scientific.
So I opened Grindr.
Here, in the pulsing foreskin of heady
Soho on a Friday afternoon, all the boys were
lubing up for the weekend. Plenty of rock-
abbed bare chests were holding iPhones in
front of gym mirrors. I counted 12 smooth
torsos before a lone hair ranger dared expose
his stubbly shamelessness to all.
I began to consider the real reason
why I shaved my chest. It wasn’t for my
own happiness. But it conformed to the
expectations of gay, male beauty we handcuff
upon each other, and wrap in weight-
lifting gloves. I’m completely a part of this
fairground hall of warped mirrors – it’s not like
I work out to ward off heart disease.
‘Research shows that gay men tend to
take care of their bodies more than straight
men,’ writes Brandon Ambrosino in his
excellent
Atlantic
essay ‘The Tyranny of
Buffness’. ‘But the same research shows gay
men are motivated less by the desire to be
healthy, and more ‘for the express purpose
of increasing attractiveness.’’ The pedestal
of perfection is cut clear: smooth, ripped,
bronzed, youthful, chiselled.
Ambrosino quotes the research of Dr
Duane Brennan: ‘Brennan, a gay man
himself, insists gay culture’s preference
for a specific physical ideal does indeed
affect those who fall short of the prevailing
standards. Some of these negative effects
include low self-esteem, eating disorders, and
body dysmorphia. Brennan also says some
gay men who don’t measure up might even
develop ‘an increased use or dependency’ on
drugs and alcohol.’
Brennan’s obviously been big on the
dance floors of muscle clubs in London where
everybody is strangely sober and nobody’s
nostril is ringed with white powder. But body-
obsession is like Tantalus, the king in Greek
mythology, who was punished by being
placed starving in a pool with fruit above his
head, forever just outside his fingers’ reach.
However much you shave, wax, bench press,
bleach or tan, if it’s only for validation in other
people’s eyes, you’re never going to reach a
pedestal of personal happiness.
Even as I research and shape these
theories I can hear the sex devil’s voice
dismissing them in my mind. I naturally enjoy
being active and keeping fit, why shouldn’t
I reap the aesthetic rewards that arrive with
that? We do have innate impulses of sexual
attraction, and for most of us it leans towards
the leaner physique.
Perhaps because when body fascism
passes a certain point, it’s no longer about
attraction but acceptance. We’re sinking
claws into each other’s flesh, like the tarantula
fangs of beauty clinics who prey on gay men,
hoping to find a boil of insecurity they can
squeeze until it jizzes the puss of pound signs
all over their salivating faces.
‘Let’s Talk About Gay Sex & Drugs – Truth’ is on
Thursday 9th April at Ku Klub, 30 Lisle Street,
Chinatown, WC2H 7BA from 6.30pm.
An open-mic forum for anybody to come talk
about how they perceive these issues in
the gay male community.
A recent PACE report into LGBT mental health
cites body image issues amongst gay/bi men a
leading concern: 60.9% are not satisfied with
physical fitness, 61.7% unsatisfied with body fat
and 58.1% unsatisfied with muscularity.
Find out more about the RaRE report at
www.pacehealth.org.uk
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qxmagazine.com
Continuing our series looking at gay shame & sexuality
This week:
trainee Dramatherapist and LGBT Activist.
Simon Marks,
“I think some of
us might even
feel ashamed to
admit that we
ever get lonely.”
I
quit Grindr earlier this year, so a
few weeks back I decided to go to
a bar on my own to see if I could
hook up in ‘real life.’ All good so
far. Nothing wrong with that. It was my
choice to be there. I’m a single gay man
living in London after all. Great.
Except, while I was there, I started to feel
this nagging anxiety in my chest; the same
feeling I used to get on Grindr. It seemed to
increase as I circled the venue like a vulture
looking hungrily for my prey. I soon noticed
other men were doing the exact same thing
in a circuit round the bar, circling each
other; sometimes overtaking and sometimes
slowing down depending on what caught
our eye. You might recognize this ritual
dance. I began to wonder if others felt it,
too. By their body language and a far off
look in their eyes, I sensed I wasn’t the only
one. After an hour, I got bored. And dizzy.
And I went home. I realized I wasn’t actually
looking for sex or a hook. Not in that way.
On the way out, I remembered I was
going home to an empty house. Friends
were on voicemail. I walked through
Soho and saw people pissed or with their
boyfriends or having fun. Then it hit me.
I
was feeling lonely. That’s
what the anxiety
was. There’s no shame in wanting to meet
someone, but the truth was, that in that
moment, I wanted to meet a stranger
because
I was feeling lonely and bored. I
just wanted something to fill the void. Again,
there’s nothing terrible about that either. But
I began to question my motivation for being
there. I hadn’t told my friends; it was my
little
secret.
And rather than admit that to
even myself, I wanted to keep my adventure
out of sight and out of mind. And that made
me feel even worse. A bit like when you’re
still in the closet. Sound familiar? I was
feeling
gay shame.
I spent years on the scene struggling to
live up to the gay ideal that we’re supposed
to live, these amazing lives of sex and
parties and fabulousness. That’s just not
been my experience. I battled with the
feeling of ‘not being enough’ both mentally
and bodily, having to work on myself
through various processes to overcome my
gay shame.
If you’ve not already read Alan Downs’
The Velvet Rage,
it describes exactly what
gay shame is and what it does to us growing
up gay in straight society. Similarly
Cruise
Control
by Robert Weiss is a fascinating look
into what drives sexual compulsion amongst
gay men. And soon to be published is
Attitude
editor Matthew Todd’s long awaited
book
Straight Jacket,
inspired from his
magazine’s “Issues Issue” (July 2010). His
book examines gay shame further.
At
A Change Of Scene,
the monthly
discussion group I run, the themes of
loneliness and shame often arise. The
group was born out of the
Issues Issue
and
the growing movement of brilliant events
addressing our sexual and mental health
concerns such as
Let’s Talk About Gay Sex
& Drugs
and 56 Dean Street’s
Wellbeing
programme.
Each month we discuss a different topic,
sharing our stories and experience around it.
For some, it’s a sounding board to say what
frustrates them about gay culture, and for
others, it’s a chance to connect authentically
with other gay men without drugs or
alcohol. So far, we’ve discussed topics such
as “Grindr”, “Chem-Sex”, “Porn”, “Body
Image”, “Barebacking” and “Relationships”.
This month, we look specifically at
“Overcoming Loneliness” and the many
ways we seek to fill the emptiness that we
sometimes feel inside. I think some of us
might even feel ashamed to admit that we
ever get lonely. Loneliness seems to go
against everything that we are
supposed
to feel. We’re always happy aren’t we? We
have the best of everything, right? Our lives
are perfect, no? We’re so
proud.
The truth is
many of us feel that emptiness from time to
time, especially living in a city like London.
It can be quite uncomfortable to admit. So
of course, it’s tempting to fill it with booze
and sex and drugs. But does it always
work? Does it actually make you feel any
less lonely? Did you get the real connection
you were seeking? I didn’t. But only you can
A Change of Scene: OVERCOMING LONELINESS
Tuesday 14th April 2015, and every second Tuesday of the month
18:30-20:00 56 Dean Street W1D 6AQ www.facebook.com/achangeofscene
Tweet us @changeoscene
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qxmagazine.com

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