Gay and loneliness
March 02, 2017
The Epidemic of
Gay LonelinessBy Michael Hobbes
I
“I used to get so ecstatic when the meth was all gone.”
This is my ally Jeremy.
“When you hold it,” he says, “you have to keep using it. When it’s gone, it’s like, ‘Oh good, I can go back to my life now.’ I would remain up all weekend and go to these sex parties and then experience like shit until Wednesday. About two years ago I switched to cocaine because I could work the next day.”
Jeremy is telling me this from a hospital bed, six stories above Seattle. He won’t tell me the exact circumstances of the overdose, only that a stranger called an ambulance and he woke up here.
Jeremy is not the comrade I was expecting to have this conversation with. Until a few weeks ago, I had no idea he used anything heavier than martinis. He is trim, intelligent, gluten-free, the caring of guy who wears a serve shirt no matter what day of the week it is. The first time we met, three years ago, he asked me if I knew a good place to do CrossFit. Today, when I ask him how the hospital’s been so far, the first thing he says is that there’s no Wi-
For five years of my animation, I lived openly and unapologetically as a gay man. Twelve years old and gay as all hell, I was not a typical middle-school student you would find in 2012, even in my hometown of Lengthy Beach in Southern California. And when the world didn’t complete that December, I thought, “Shit, now I really gotta figure this out.”
After downloading Grindr at thirteen, I was exposed early to hyper-sexualization, fat-phobia, transphobia, and every phobia or insult you could find under the sun. Even with all of these faceless torsos and all of the budding promise of promiscuity and connection, I felt empty; I was lonely. Loneliness, typically internalized from community, was something I felt almost leap from within me to saturate every corner of my burnt orange bedroom. Where was this coming from? Why did I feel so alone?
The Oxford English Dictionary defines loneliness as “the quality of being unfrequented and remote; isolat[ed].”[1] This definition is too basic for my standards because loneliness, at least as it stands in the lgbtq+ community, can be found almost everywhere; at the gay-bar, at the club, in the Women’s, Gender, and Sexuality Studies classroom, or in a bed, s
Gay Loneliness and What To Do About It
Gay men are more lonely than straight men.
It pains me to write that. Male lover men need positive inspiration and role models, not more negative statements.
However, I am highlighting this truth because I know it is easier to produce change when we recognize painful truths.
Let’s start by reviewing some of the research on gay people. Academic journals can be incredibly boring so authorize me give you the brief highlights:
Research shows:
Why are we statistically worse off on these measures of mental health? Is it something we ate?
You probably can guess the retort . It’s called “growing up gay.”
Even in today’s more enlightened times we exposure more rejection as kids. And that’s especially factual for gay men who embrace a more feminine gender presentation gay men who embrace a more feminine gender presentation than other boys.
Many of us grow up expecting rejection and we remain on high alert for it in social situations. Even if you personally contain never received blatant rejection, the negative culture has an impact on you. No one has to call you a fag for you to still fear being seen as a fag.
We don’t just experience this fear of reje
Gay Loneliness Is Real—but “Bitchy, Toxic” Customs Isn’t the Complete Story
If you are gay or comprehend many gays, chances are you saw “Together Alone,” Michael Hobbes’ longform essay on what he calls an “epidemic of gay loneliness,” show up in your feeds tardy last week. After seeing the article shared approvingly by many friends, I skimmed and dutifully posted it myself. It’s unsettling, occupied of resonant descriptions of isolation, drug addiction, and self-hatred among gay men; and it’s ambitious in its endeavor to name, outline the contours of, and prescribe solutions for what it argues is a cultural and social crisis among same-sex attracted men hovering between youth and middle age. But later, as I decipher the article more closely, I began to feel uneasy.
Something in Hobbes’ portrait—more specifically, in the words of the group of homosexual men he chose to interview—reminded me of a caring of conversation that I encountered when I’ve worked in offices with immense gay populations. The conversation happened frequently enough that I began to be able to predict how it might unfold. An older gay male colleague, typically white and trim and flourishing, would set off on a lament about the unachievable meanness and pet