Bareback Mountain: Porn part 2

Today, I was propositioned on the internet for bareback sex.

Now, as much as I love the movie (and the book) Brokeback Mountain, where the cowboys do each other with pure feelings, without restraint, and most of all, without a condom, there's absolutely nothing that's going to make me give in to having unprotected sex with a stranger... even if both bareback and brokeback end in the same way. And in this case, both may end with tragedy, too.

We all wish for a world without AIDS, without HIV, without fear. Again, there's nothing more I hate than being told "you can't do such and such". I will rebel again and again, until I've taken the helm of the rules and made them to my liking.

But this mad resurgence of gay youth having unprotected sex drives me even more nuts (pardon the poor word choice). The most chilling scene in my head revolves around the sheer idea of a "bug party", a scary parody of reality TV where HIV- "bug chasers" (mostly gay men in their 20s and 30s who can no longer stand the idea of living with the fear of infection) engage in a drug-filled, condom-free orgy. In this mix of 10 or so men, one is HIV positive.

The rules are simple: fuck as many people as possible in hopes of being the "lucky" man to walk home with the disease.

I don't hear about these parties too often anymore, but their very existence haunts my memory. This is irresponsibility and hopelessness at its worse, but, to be honest, I can't blame these men really.

Treasure Island Video's bareback series are some of the best sellers at porn shops, and they sell a fantasy with a warning. But who in their right mind wants to be told about nasty diseases when everyone (including the viewer) is having such a good time?

Truth be told, I enjoyed Dawson's 20-load weekend very much. But whenever anyone uses the word "breed" to describe the idea of ejaculation with the intent to potentially infect, I shudder. And sometimes, I start to cry.

I am very lucky to have never had someone close to me die yet. But Death is very close to me, in my heart, in my head, in my fingers, in my blood. I supported my wonderful ex-boyfriend through the death of both parents, and last year, a long-time friend of the man who I will call my "gay godfather" J, died of AIDS.

Grief has transformed J in a relatively short period. Depression has set in, he's gained a few pounds, and he suffers dearly, daily. But he fights to keep a smile and get up in the morning, and to me, that's all what counts. His friends were not irresponsible-- they were not sex-addicts, they were not all-night partiers. They were brothers, they were family.

I have absolutely no right to lecture the "bug-chasers". But I want everyone to consider the suffering of those left behind, the holes left in the soul after death. Because death here is the ultimate consequence of giving completely into fear, letting it win over your body and soul, and it spreads like a cancer into the hearts of those you love.

But again, why waste a life when you can fight to restore one? I cannot, and I do not wish to ban bareback pornography, or the "unsafe-sex education" it presents to youth. It showcases the now-rare intimacy of bodily fluid, lost to us after the emergence AIDS and HIV, and I don't want that taken away. Perhaps it could even be a symbol for resistance, a dream that we can achieve once we find a cure.

Over and out.

....
Hey, Bareback Porn that donates to AIDS charities? It just might work, someday, somewhere.