Sober Sex 1

 

On a recent Disability After Dark one of the men Andrew interviews admits that he has never had sex sober. That was the story of my sex life until I got into recovery. I needed more than a few drinks in me to engage in sex with men (or, in one case a woman). The guys I drank with in Cape Breton were ‘straight’ & after drinks, many drinks things could happen. Booze was ‘excuse juice.’

 

 

I can’t speak to their story but I know for me the fear of being out was enough to keep me in – trapped in crushing crushes on some of the guys I drank with, most of whom had girlfriends, wives. None of them talked about being bi or gay. But I wasn’t so deep in my closet that they didn’t know of my interest.

Those opportunities were rare. I knew things were going to happen when one of them would show up with a case of beer or bottle of scotch. There was no real affection involved beyond ‘that feels great.’ I figured that was what sex was supposed to be. Get drunk and mess around.

Being a drunk was part of the downward spiral of being queer, a compulsive, liar, thief, depressed, misunderstood etc. At the time I’d read a psychology book that outlined various mental issues – homosexuality was then classified as a psychosis, a disease. It also talked about alcohol as a depressive drug – I knew the book was wrong on both counts as booze was the only thing that made me happy – yet I was suicidal by the time I left Cape Breton.

When I arrived in Toronto in the late 70’s getting sober was not part of the plan, but it was one of things that happened. Here I was a sober kid in the boozy candy shop of gay discos. Sex without booze was a terrifying concept. How would I build up the nerve to even approach someone? 

Luckily for me there was a solid gay/lesbian presence in recovery so I had examples of that possibility but even they complained of how hard it was to find a good man. I saw the connection between my depression & alcohol. A connection that wasn’t made in the Disability After Dark conversation. 

Andrew, if you read this, think about doing an episode dealing with addictions & disability.

Male – White – 27

Charge – Public Urination

our plan was to have a last draft

but when one of my buds made a joke

about the country-western song just ending

I started to cover my laugh 

with the hand

that was bringing the glass 

to my eager lips

the jerking 

jolt flung the sweet amber suds

into a perfect arc over my shoulder

the sweat slippery glass darted

from my loose grip

 

Oh for a photo of that glorious 

go-for-the-gold momentum

beer escaping with glass chasing after it

me turning in my seat

eyes agog   mouth agape 

stunned amazement 

at 

the 

slow 

motion 

ballet

I didn’t realized how much energy 

I had in my arm 

to lift with such ballistic force 

that the joke was so freaking funny

to give an extra dash of dynamic energy

 

the beer flew    spread    lost perfection 

splattered wetly on the table behind us 

splashed on food    faces

there was a dismayed shriek

anger   fucking assholes

the glass came tumbling after

hitting someone on the shoulder

bouncing  smashing on the table 

 

I was no longer laughing

no one was laughing

 

my chair tipped as I stood

it fell in the path of 

the bearded biker guy whose girlfriend

got the beer wave in her food

his furious fists punched empty air 

as he stumbled over the chair

 

next thing I knew 

my buds and I were outside

in a bitter ten-below-zero wind

I was pissing a steaming amber arc

on a car door handle

while one of my buds was up chucking

a police cruiser pulled over

I turned to get out of the way

slipped in vomit

spun in an imperfect circle 

tumbled ass-over-tea-kettle

landed on my back

in a snow bank under a street lamp

fly down   limp dick chillin’

boys in blue hauled me to my feet

 

and that’s one of the many many reasons 

I now chose not to drink

https://wp.me/P1RtxU-2f6

every Tuesday 2019

July

Stratford Festival – Nathan The Wise

August 2-13: getting back to my roots in Cape Breton
Hey! Now you can give me $$$ to defray blog fees & buy coffee on my trip to Cape Breton – sweet,eh? paypal.me/TOpoet 

September

Shaw Festival – Sex (Mae West)

Stratford Festival – Little Shop Of Horrors

June  – Capturing Fire 2020 – Washington D.C.  capfireslam.org 

Hey! Or you can give me $$$ to defray blog fees & buy coffee in Washington at 2020’s capfireslam.org – sweet, eh? paypal.me/TOpoet

Like my pictures? I post lots on Tumblr

https://www.tumblr.com/blog/topoet

 

Charge – Public Urination

I don’t talk much about recovery on this blog. There are so many theories around addiction, around recovery that I’d rather not wade in with opinions on what process is right or the best. What works for me works for me. If you are one of those with an opinion for or against 12 step recovery, spirituality, I’m interested in it but I’m not going to defend or justify what works for me.

eggo oops

I grew up in Cape Breton at a time when otherness of any sort was not easy. I as neither a conformist nor even a loud nonconformist. Fear ruled my life, which was why I wasn’t so loud, I guess. To deal with it I drank, to make friends I drank, to make it with some of my friends, we drank. Alcohol quickly ruled my life – I wrote about it, wrote while drinking, read books by drunks (A Fan’s Notes anybody?) Didn’t trust people who wouldn’t drink. You get the picture.

constructiom I hid a bottle back here somewhere

When I moved to Toronto 1978 I ended up in AA (long story about how that happened may turn up here eventually). There was a strong gay presence in AA when I arrived which made it easier to stick. I kept coming back, & still do keep coming back.

snakes I see snakes, everywhere

It took a few years of being sober before I was able to clearly see how much of a drunk I had become – I say drunk because ‘alcoholic’ bring a certain clinical detachment to what I mess I had become. I listened at the meetings I went I saw that my emotional patterns/rationalizations were the same as people whose lives & drinking experiences were totally different from mine – let’s face it a tattoo is a tattoo regardless of the body it is on.samples

Male – White – 27

Charge – Public Urination

our plan was to have a last draft

but when one of my buds made a joke

about the country-western song just ending

I started to cover my laugh

with the hand

that was bringing the glass

to my eager lips

the jerking

jolt flung the sweet amber suds

into a perfect arc over my shoulder

the sweat slippery glass darted

from my loose grip

O for a photo of that glorious

go-for-the-gold momentum

beer escaping with glass chasing after it

me turning in my seat

eyes agog   mouth agape

stunned amazement

at

the

slow

motion

ballet

I didn’t realized how much energy

I had in my arm

to lift with such ballistic force

that the joke was so freaking funny

to give an extra dash of dynamic energy

the beer flew    spread    lost perfection

splattered wetly on the table behind us

splashed on food    faces

there was a dismayed shriek

anger   fucking assholes

the glass came tumbling after

hitting someone on the shoulder

bouncing  smashing on the table

I was no longer laughing

no one was laughing

my chair tipped as I stood

it fell in the path of

the bearded biker guy whose girlfriend

got the beer wave in her food

his furious fists punched empty air

as he stumbled over the chair

next thing I knew

my buds and I were outside

in a bitter ten-below-zero wind

I was pissing a steaming amber arc

on a car door handle

while one of my buds was up chucking

a police cruiser pulled over

I turned to get out of the way

slipped in vomit

spun in an imperfect circle

tumbled ass-over-tea-kettle

landed on my back

in a snow bank under a street lamp

fly down   limp dick chillin’

boys in blue hauled me to my feet

and that’s one of the many many reasons

I now chose not to drink

bottles chillin’