Tell Me Lies, Tell Me Sweet Little “Fucking” Lies

Why are we so careless with each other’s emotions? I gather heterosexuals are not immune from similar disregard, but homosexual men–with an overpowering (and in some cases insatiable) sexual appetite–seem to take it to an extreme. Lusting for “cock, cum, piss, boy hole” (or whatever else floats your boat), it’s alarming what we’re willing to sacrafice for purely physical, erotic encounters: the truth. That is what makes our interactions with each other beyond degrading.

“What a Tangled Web We Weave When First We Practice to Deceive.”

It’s puzzling how a homosexual’s dick can manage to grow a few inches with every passing fib, but he–who we’ll call Pinocchio–managed to get it up even as he found himself tangled in a web of lies.

We met at a party in Brooklyn. After a passing, provocative glance, we struck up conversation. Naturally, it didn’t take too long before he brought up sex.

“You look like a top,” Pinocchio said, somehow amazed that I’m anything but. “You should really try it sometime. You have no idea what you’re missing.”

“That’s rich, coming from the competition,” I initially joked. Up close, I noticed an overall glazed look in his bloodshot eyes. He nervously twitched and repeated himself. “Alright, I think I’m done here.”

“Wait! You mean, you don’t want to fuck me?”

“Not if you were the last homosexual in the world,” I said, attempting to walk away. Then he grabbed me.

“You can do it raw.”

“There again, we’re not compatible. I’m safe only.”

“Ugh! For real? Come on, dude. Forget condoms. Be a man.”

“Oh! Good for you! Now you’re going to school me on what it’s like to be a ‘man’? Tell me, who’s keeping you company right now–beyond Mary Jane? Let me guess, Tina? Molly?”

“I don’t do drugs,” he stuttered and hesitated.

“Now you’ve just lied to me.”

“You’re on PrEP, aren’t you?” he asked, trying to change the subject.

“That’s right. Are you on PrEP?”

“Well,” he hesitated again, “yeah. I’m clean. It’s totally safe.”

“Boy you are the worst liar! Strike two!”

“Well,” he corrected himself. “I’m undetectable. So that’s the same as you being on PrEP.”

“Strike three! You’re out. How the <insert choice word here> do you go from being ‘clean’ and on ‘PrEP’ to ‘undetectable’?”

By now, he looked mortified and completely ashamed–as well he should.

“Get the hell out of my face before I rearrange yours!” The anger had set in. “If you have the audacity to look me in the eyes and lie, brace yourself <insert choice word again> because I will make you feel as tall as that three-and-a-half-inch floppy undoubtedly shriveling right now behind your <insert yet another choice word> pants.”

It’s not altogether off-putting to learn that Pinocchio is HIV+. The issue is he lied about it (and so much more).

This most recent example is one of a myriad where I’ve caught some idiot lying through his teeth. Granted, not everyone goes as far, but consider all of those who hold themselves out as single and available only to confess at a later point that they’re involved in an open relationship or better yet, married–to a homosexual or a woman (you can never be sure these days). I’m particularly amused by those who offer an alias to start and share their real name only after the first date, despite several weeks of playing “getting to know you” with a spirited round of 20-questions on some dating app. Suddenly Jake becomes Dave who’s hanging onto his early thirties by staking a claim that he’s thirty-two, when in fact he’s closer to rounding forty. That’s disappointing, yes. But it cuts even deeper.

The foundation of any healthy relationship (be that with a professional acquaintance, close personal friend, casual sex partner, or romantic interest) is trust. When we constantly form first impressions of each other based on false information and inaccurate representations, we rob ourselves of the potential to achieve anything worthwhile. We relegate ourselves to a position far inferior to anything an outside member could dare to attempt with anti-gay slurs, homophobic remarks, or violence. For a community that has overcome so much adversity and achieved so much toward the path to equality, we become our own worst enemies when we choose to lie to each other with little respect for the consequences.

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At the Intersection of Single and on PrEP

Like a moth to a flame, I played with fire and got burned. In my quest to extinguish any lingering romantic feelings I harbor for yet another “unavailable” homosexual, I’m acting out in alarming ways—going to extremes I never dreamed imaginable.

Last night, I let a one night stand go in without protection.

For most homosexuals these days, “raw” or “bareback” sex is no big deal. With the advent of PrEP (or what I call “homosexual birth control“), everyone’s doing it. But I’ve always maintained we should exercise a little more caution when we find ourselves in the company of strangers; that we should refrain from using the little blue pill as a license to have unprotected sex. Condoms offer additional protection against HIV and other STIs. PrEP provides an added peace of mind.

Or so I thought.

The morning after, I’m finding little comfort in the knowledge that “PrEP reduces your risk of HIV infection by over 90-percent.” That’s because it does little to stave off this overwhelming sense of disappointment that I put myself in a vulnerable position and allowed someone to violate me physically (putting aside the obvious impact on my emotional and mental well-being).

I made a mistake.

As someone who insists on protection, I find myself feeling largely marginalized (dare I say, ostracized) from the seemingly vast majority of homosexual society who’ve pledged allegiance to condomless sex. The pool of available candidates becomes exceptionally shallow when (at the very least) half the swimmers on homosexual dating apps explicitly state that they’re seeking “raw” or “bareback” sex because they’re on PrEP.

It leaves yours truly feeling stranded.

But if any good is to come of this situation, it strengthens my resolve: I’m not so lonely and desperate for affection that I’m ever willing to compromise my virtue again, certainly not for for some fleeting moment. If that means remaining isolated because I refuse to engage in what the popular “in crowd” is doing, so be it.