I originally had something in mind to say here, but the longer I go on, the less clear it is what I want to say. Partially I want to recap the whole of “Sexual Ecology” into a compressed memetic virus which will go forth, infect us all, and prevent future numbskull behavior. The basic prescriptive thesis of the book is that gay men need to try for more serial monogamy, and a lower rate of partner change, as the “condom code” isn’t terribly effective, particularly in an environment of frequent partner change. Another interesting point he makes is that, even if HIV is “cured”, the interactive patterns that men who have sex with men have makes way for more, similar nasty infectious diseases. I can’t remember if he explicitly makes the point, but I certainly got the point that effective HIV treatment meds will increase the incidence, both by keeping the HIV+ folks alive longer (good) and by allowing the irresponsible among them (a minority of a minority, but a damn dangerous one) to keep spreading it after they would otherwise have been incapacitated and died. (bad?) The gay guys who were going through their coming out in the 70’s and to a lesser extent in the 80’s, suffered a form of natural selection. Many of the reckless ones didn’t make it. Enter HIV meds, and you have where we are now. That’s excessively brief and entirely inadequate as a description, but it’ll do for now.
Another thing I wanted to do was talk a little bit more about the inside of my skull, both how I’m dealing with the current state of affairs and what led to the current state of affairs. Clearly I did some numbskull stuff myself. In the past I’ve been, not so much an advocate of, as a reliable practitioner of open relationships. I’ve broken the condom code (I have never had unprotected anal sex while in a relationship, either in or outside the context of that relationship. In fact, while in a relationship, I’ve never had anal sex outside it. Can I say that I was rationally calculating the risks, and weighing the risk of stds against the short term benefits of immediate buttsex? Not honestly.
Generally, in my case, it was an implicit undervaluation of the self. Desperate longing for affection. High stress. Resignation and passivity. An urge to make others happy. I never did it unconscious of the risk. I never initiated unsafe sex. But, by the same token I rarely stopped it. Damn stupid.
I’m trying not to judge myself too harshly on this one. But every time someone makes sympathy noises towards me, I reflexively do the verbal equivalent of batting their hands away, “Well, these things happen.”. I want to be strong, and I know I can get through life on my own, functionally with little problem. I fear how others will react (though no one I’ve told so far has reacted negatively). And at the same time I want somone to comfort me, tell me that I’m still a good and worthy person. That everything will be okay. They are tough urges to reconcile, even leaving aside.
I vascilate between believing “unpleasant surgery with a probable quick recovery, and some dude looking up my butt once every couple weeks for awhile. Sure, less than optimal, but not really a big deal,” and feeling like damaged goods that will contaminate everything it (I) come into contact with. Bleh!
Too tired to think clearly, bleh. Night, night.