We come from broken homes, where our parents separated early on, leaving us feeling unloved and different. School was tough—whether bullied or not, there was always one teacher who gave us a bit of comfort. We often resort to self-diagnosing or self-medicating, chasing dopamine because we’ve never truly been happy. We’ve cheated on partners without them ever knowing and struggled to maintain genuine friendships. Deep down, we carry anger. We sometimes do unthinkable things to each other, speaking harshly and treating one another with little respect. There’s a lack of self-awareness and self-respect that often comes with being gay. Secretly, some of us harbor homophobia.
We are extremely self-conscious and vain. If it’s not our skin, it’s our hair, our bodies, our teeth—always something. We worry about whether our perfume is appropriate for the crowd we’ll be with, about our bank balances, or how many people we’ve slept with today. We compare ourselves endlessly with other men.
We join LGBTQ groups or communities at work, expecting them to be embracing, welcoming, and accepting. Instead, we often find ourselves surrounded by behavior that is bitchy, judgmental, unfriendly, cold, and drowning in self-pity.
We march in Pride parades across the globe, often under the influence, in packs, wearing skimpy clothing, and feeling accepted. Our egos inflate, and we find ourselves trying to outshine the person next to us. We can be disrespectful to the point of sleeping with others without disclosing our true sexual health status. We tell them we’re “neg on PrEP,” thinking that’s enough to make everything okay. It’s not.
This is my experience, and yes, I’m generalizing, but there are patterns in our community that we need to acknowledge. I warned you that my blog would be honest.
