I Wouldn't Normally Do This Kind of Thing

The Night I Learned a New Definition to an Old Word

For more than forty years, four decades, the city of Sydney has hosted one of the largest and most important social events of the year in the entire country of Australia, an event that has become so massive it is among the largest such events in the world. Sydney's Gay & Lesbian Mardi Gras attracts thousands upon thousands upon thousands of gay men from every corner of the globe to the Land Down Under to party with the Aussies during this very festive month-long celebration of gay pride. The combined excitement and sexual energy of this many gay men on vacation in the same city at the same time creates a very special kind of energy, something I have never experienced anywhere else in the world, and this energy runs through the entire city of Sydney, transforming its gay neighborhoods into gay meccas, filling its gay bars excitement, and infusing the city's inhabitants and visitors with gay pride. This energy grows more and more intense as the Mardi Gras parade gets closer and closer. No matter where you go or what you do in Sydney during this time of year, you are bound to encounter throngs of happy, horny gay men. By the time the day of the parade arrives, it's impossible to contain your own excitement, and by the time the parade kicks off (which is at 7:00 pm), the energy in the city is so thick, so undeniable, so palpable, it practically hangs in the air, and let me tell you, it is magical. The night of the parade, more than a quarter million people, gay and straight, fill the streets of Sydney to witness the colorful collision of creativity and culture in the brilliant costumes and elaborate floats, each representing a different part of the gay community and together providing an amazing cross section of its vast diversity. Without a doubt, Sydney's Gay Mardi Gras is a one-of-a-kind spectacular gay event. But the main event is not the parade. It's the exclusively gay dance party held afterwards, attended by more than 15,000 gay men. Held in multiple buildings spread across the city's immense fairgrounds, the party provides the space to allows thousands of gay men to frolic to their heart's desire all night long.

Magical Energy

The first time I went to Sydney's Gay Mardi Gras, I had one of the best times of my life, so I was super excited to be going again just a few years later in 1996, but it was during this second time that I experienced something that changed my life forever: the night I learned a new definition to an old word. I knew this time would be different the moment the plane touched down. As the plane taxied to the gate, I looked out of the window and saw that it was raining. Actually, it looked more like the sky was dropping buckets of water, one after another, literally everywhere. It was a monsoon! Bucket after bucket of water poured down from the dark gray sky, drenching us as we dashed from the airport terminal into a taxi, then drenching us again when we arrived at the hotel, grabbed our bags from the back of the cab and ran inside. It continued to rain like that the entire day, making it impossible to go anywhere or do anything. The torrential rain kept falling all night, then the next day, and the day after that. Seriously, I have never seen it rain like that anywhere else at any time in my life. Umbrellas were useless against the relentless force of the pouring rain. My friends and I quickly developed a strategy to outsmart Mother Nature. We stayed inside. For five long days and five long nights, we all stared out of the windows, second guessing our decision to spend that particular week in that particular place. On the sixth day, we woke up expecting more of the same. The weather forecasts had not been optimistic the previous day. But when we opened the curtains, we were instantly mesmerized by the most beautiful sight we'd ever seen. The Australian sun had made its miraculous ascent into the sky, brightening our day, our week, our lives.

Hallelujah, the rain was gone!

It was Thursday already, just two days before the parade, and we were eager to make up for the lost time. We needed to get a week's worth of sight-seeing and shopping done in two days, so we didn't waste a moment of time. We headed straight to Oxford Street, arguably the gayest part of Sydney, to enjoy some afternoon cocktails...and hopefully find some cocks and tails. It was about 2:00 pm when we got our first drink at the Albury Hotel, and we quickly realized we weren't the only ones trying to make up for lost time. We were so happy with our decision to drink the afternoon away because there were sights to see everywhere along Oxford Street, and the Albury was literally wall-to-wall hotties. Everywhere we turned, there were hot, fun, sexy gay men. We definitely felt that special energy as we made our way from one packed bar to another, having a great time at every gay bar on Oxford Street. Finally, drunk and horny, we went to Midnight Shift. It was about 9:00 pm, and after having the time of our lives for seven hours by chasing hottie after hottie around Oxford Street, we were all ready to hook up. Like all the other Oxford Street bars that day, the Shift was so packed we could barely move. We decided to work as a team, so my friends headed to the bathroom, while I headed to the bar to get us some drinks.

That's when it happened!

I surveyed the space between myself and the bar to determine the best possible path through the hundreds of gay men who stood like sardines on what seemed like every inch of floor space. That's when I saw him. Our eyes met long before I made it to the bar, and we stared at one another as I slowly made my way over to where he was standing. It must have taken me 20 minutes to finally get myself close enough to say hello. He smiled. I smiled. I was memorized by his bright blue eyes, which literally seemed to sparkle as he said hello back to me. His sweet, sexy Australian accent instantly swept me off my feet. His name was Tony, and he said I was the hottest guy he'd seen all day. "Yeah, well, so are you." He suggested we save time by buying a six pack on the way to my hotel. I had already forgotten that my friends had gone to the bathroom and were expecting a cold drink to be waiting for them. I'd practically forgotten I had friends at all. One thing I did know as Tony and I left the Midnight Shift was that I was about to have some incredible sex.

The Sex Was Good, Really Good!

It was some of the hottest sex I'd ever had with one of the hottest guys I'd ever met. Tony was the perfect combination of good looks, easy to get along with, horny horny horny, and really just an all around pretty good guy. Still today, more than twenty-five years later, I remember his smell, his smile, and his beautiful blue eyes. I practically fell in love with him on the walk back to my hotel room, but that doesn't explain why it happened. It doesn't explain why I decided to do what I decided to do. Honestly, I don't even know why I decided to do what I decided to do. After all these years, that part is still a mystery to me. What am I talking about? At some point, we stopped using a condom. I don't know exactly when it happened, or who did it first. We didn't discuss it, and I didn't even think about it...until later, after it was over. That's when I asked him if he was negative or positive. He quickly told me he was negative, but his eyes told a different story. It didn't really matter at that point anyway. The deed had been done. We both fell asleep, exhausted from the five straight days of rain, a day of drinking, and a night of frolicking. When we woke up, we went at it again and kept going at it until he had to go to work.

The big party came and went, and we flew home on Monday. The thirteen hour flight seemed to last days. All I could think about was the decision I had made in a split second, so hastily I didn't even recall making it. Why had I done it? What was I thinking? How would I tell my boyfriend? What if the worst came true? A constant barrage of questions flooded my mind, drenching my consciousness like the torrential rain had drenched my body the day I'd arrived in Sydney. These questions exploded in my mind like a Fourth of July firework finale, one firework fading as another lit the sky, questions clashed with other questions like blue fireworks clashing with red fireworks in the sky. I had a terrible headache when I boarded the flight, and it got steadily worse as each hour passed. When the plane finally landed in San Francisco, arriving before I even left, my head was pounding so hard, th-thump th-thump th-thump, I nearly fainted before I made it through customs. Every step I took, th-thump clashed with more questions. What the fuck had I done?

I never saw Tony again, didn't even get his number. I sure thought about him a lot though. He came in my ass. The sex was incredible. Oh my god, what did I do? Fuck, I wish I'd gotten his number.

Several weeks later, around the beginning of May, I got the flu. Late Spring is always an odd time to get the flu, and this was especially odd since I knew it wasn't really the flu. Seroconversion is the process by which HIV antibodies develop and become detectable within a person's bloodstream (Hecht et al, 2011). It's the process of becoming HIV+. HIV seroconversion is characterized by mild flu-like symptoms that come and go quickly, within a day or two. For me, it lasted less than 24 hours.

In November, I tested positive for HIV.

I sometimes wonder where Tony is today and what he's doing. The sex was good, really good.

The Blame Game

From the time I became HIV+, I've been very willing to talk about it with anyone interested in hearing my story. I used to be asked a lot if I know who gave it to me and if I hate him for it. "Yes, of course, and no, I don't. Actually, I think he's a really great guy".

It is every man's responsibility to protect himself. That night in Sydney, I didn't do that. I lost sight of the basic responsibility of self-preservation, and a few weeks later, I became HIV+. Do I hate the guy who gave it to me? No, how could I? Why would I? In my mind, I feel that I gave myself HIV. Maybe I got it from Tony, but I gave it to myself when I failed to use protection. I don't blame Tony. It was not his responsibility to keep me safe. It was mine.

It's human nature to blame someone else when something bad happens, and many gay men play the blame game when they become HIV+. They come up with extravagant reasons why they cannot be at fault and blame it on whoever was closest to them when it happened, the other guy. It can't be them, so it must be the other guy. Let me be clear, this is irresponsible and unproductive behavior. It diverts attention away from the issue at hand at a time when the body needs the mind to be fully focused. Having sex without a condom is like leaving your front door open when you go on vacation. Maybe you'll be ok, or maybe someone will walk by and see an opportunity. HIV is no different. It was no different back in 1996. It is no different today. How can I blame Tony when I knew the risks but had sex without a condom anyway?

I can't.

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The new definition.

It used to be that the word bareback had only one meaning, referring to riding an unsaddled animal, typically a horse (Bareback, 2012). But around the time Tony and I met, a new definition begun to come into common use in certain social circles. This new definition has nothing to do with a horse but, depending on the situation, could refer to riding an animal. Sometime in the mid-1990s, just as the AIDS crisis ended and the AIDS epidemic began, the word bareback began to refer to the practice of having sex without a condom (Partridge, Dalzell, & Victor, 2006). But this new definition quickly became much more than just a word. It sparked a sexual revolution that fundamentally changed the way gay men have sex.

Since the beginning of the AIDS crisis, gay men used condoms to prevent being infected with the virus. Even HIV+ gay men used condoms when having sex with other HIV+ gay men. This was mainly due to the threat of superinfection, the theory that two HIV+ individuals can reinfect one another with different strains of the virus forming a recombinant strain that could coexist with the initial strain and enable the disease to progress more quickly or create a resistance to HIV medication (Smith at al, 2006). This theory began to lose credibility about the same time the word bareback, referring to sex without condoms, began to gain popularity. I won't beat around the bush. Bareback sex is unsafe sex. And everybody knows unsafe sex is inherently risky. But the term "bareback" put a fresh face on the practice of having sex without a condom, and suddenly, unsafe sex didn't seem like a bad thing anymore. In fact, it sounded hot. This is how the aforementioned sexual revolution began.

I would like to make clear that Tony and I did not have bareback sex, and the night I had sex with him I did not learn a new definition to an old word. The term bareback implies a deliberate act of not using a condom. It was not deliberate between Tony and myself. It was a bad decision made in a split secoond in the heat of the moment. It's a minor distinction, some would say, but I feel it is important to be clear about it.

Works Cited

Bareback (2012). Dictionary.com. Retrieved from https://www.dictionary.com/browse/ bareback

Hecht, F. M., Wellman, R., Busch, M. P., Pilcher, C. D., Norris, P. J., Margolick, J. B., ... Holte, S. (2011). Identifying the Early Post-HIV Antibody Seroconversion Period. The Journal of Infectious Diseases, 204(4), 526-533. doi:10.1093/infdis/jir304

Partridge, E., Dalzell, T, Victor, T. (2006). The New Partridge Dictionary of Slang and Unconventional English: A-I (Reprint ed.). Rutledge, NJ: Taylor Francis Publishing

Smith, D. M., Strain, M. C., Frost, S. D., Pillai, S. K., Wong, J. K., Wrin, T., ... Richman, D. D. (2006). Lack of neutralizing antibody response to HIV-1 predisposes to superinfection. Virology, 355(1), 1–5. doi:10.1016/j.virol.2006.08.009. PMID 16962152.

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