There used to be a time when getting laid was really difficult.
You would have to go out clubbing.
Find a guy whom you fancied, and who fancied you back.
You would both get trollied, to get over your social awkwardness.
Followed by a drunken fumble on the dance floor.
Eventually you would stagger home and pass out together.
Come the morning you’d both have banging hangovers and want to die.
Such was the mating dance of the Dublin gays.
How things have changed.
Tops, bottoms, twinks or bears.
Subs, Doms who even cares?
No matter what your poison, it’s only a click away.
As easy as wham, bam, go home to your mam.
It’s all a bit too easy.
Where is the challenge?
Where is the excitement?
Where is the danger?
Ok, skip the danger.
But that nervous energy is gone.
Now no matter what you are in the mood for, it’s available.
Fancy a threesome?
You get exactly what you want.
There used to be a time when you did not know what you would roll home with.
Red head, brunette, white guy or black guy?
You know the black lads have all been taken by the skanks for breeding purposes.
What am I getting at?
Sex has become just a wee bit prescriptive.
It’s lost its edge.
Sex just doesn’t seem to be all that fun anymore.
Did I say that?
No it’s more than that.
It’s bleeding tragic.
That’s not to say that I’m giving up sex.
Only my catholic neighbours do such silly things for lent.
I’m just saying that’s all.
Sex aint what it used to be.
It aint all that!
“Oisin, why the feck are you fidgeting so much?” He has not sat still for one second on the Tube. Oh yes, his arse is leaking. The look he gives me has a touch of hate in it. That’s the first time he has ever looked at me in that way. Can’t say I like it. “You okay?” No reply. I squeeze his thigh, but he says nothing. We sit in silence all the way back to the local Tube stop, and walk back to the hotel without a word between us. Oisin walks into the bedroom ahead of me. I can feel the rage heat coming off him. “So, what the fuck is up with you?”
“Nothing.” Okay, I’m not a woman, but even I can see that he is pissed off to bollix. Oh god. He takes a seat on the bed and lets out a deep sigh. I do hate all this emotional shite. This is why boyfriends are such a bad idea.
The pair of us are sat there on the bed for a few moments. Then I break the tension with an arm around his shoulder. “What’s up, buddy?”
“Buddy? I’m your fucking partner.”
“Oisin, you know I’m not great at this kind of thing.” Since baring my soul to Sean, I’ve decided that it’s best to keep my heart locked up where it can’t be hurt.