Matthew Rettenmund | Boy Culture

The new Out (August 2007) drops on Tuesday and has a great story on barebacking called “Baring The Truth” by James Gavin. Ignore the silly illustration that merges bareback horseriding with bareback sex (the other illos are much better anyway). I’ve argued many of the points of this piece on my blog before—that barebacking is quietly becoming totally normal and acceptable in gay porn, that porn coaches us on how to have sex and therefore bareback porn can only be described as fetishizing and advocating unsafe sex, that some people will do anything to turn a buck.Sam Dixon, an ex-porn star now making money as a bareback director callously states, “The consumer has spoken.” This argument means nothing in the realm of morality. Just because the consumer wants something does not mean you should eagerly sell it to them. For example, do you doubt you’d make a killing if you were granted an exclusive right to make and sell child pornography? Whether or not I agree with outlawing prostitution between consenting adults (I don’t), if the government can outlaw prostitution allegedly for our health, why not outlaw bareback porn? I think I’d prefer an intrusive, restrictive approach to a non-approach, and to silence. But this government would never get involved in that because…they want to abolish pornography altogether and they don’t believe in condoms, either; congrats, pigs, you’ve got something in common with George Bush!

Pornstar Dino Phillips does little to beat back the unfair impression the general public has that pornstars are too stupid to do anything but fuck for money, stating, “Duh, this is just for entertainment, we’re not really advocating this.” Yeah, a movie that shows a guy getting dumped in—for real—by 20 or 50 guys is not advocating that the viewer should do the same thing. The writer explores the issue with beautiful, economic thoroughness—I can’t add much to what’s already there aside from: If you’re getting fucked by a frozen cumsicle made from the loads of random HIV+ guys because you miss the days when being gay was edgy, you need a new fuckin’ hobby and you better damn well be smart enough to at least work on behalf of universal healthcare.

It’s a depressing article, and it’s a depressing reality to consider how many guys out there—maybe you?—routinely have unsafe sex, not just because you’re letting down your guard or making a mistake you’ll regret, but purposefully. It’s a stray thought, but I darkly considered how embarrassed I am that all those nice lesbians and straight chicks cared about the gay community when the AIDS crisis was young. If they could see into the future to witness our collective yawn as HIV runs rampant, all because we as men can’t get over an empty need to have a really big orgasm right now…would they have invested their time in the first place?

It’s also depressing to me that a huge majority of respondents to Out’s current poll on barebacking says they “love” bareback porn because porn is just a fantasy…first, I doubt that if you love bareback porn you’re being honest that it’s only a fantasy and never a reality for you. But aside from that, what does it say about our outlook on porn actors? They are part of our community, they are us—but a majority of us thinks it’s okay to pay them a few hundred bucks to engage in behavior that almost certainly will make them HIV+ sooner or later just so we can have a fantasy and cum watching them? I think it would be more honest to vote “Who cares if they get HIV as long as they look hot doing it?”

I once lived with a stripper. He was sexually voracious, which was cute at first. But when his tricks began to show up three a day, I got grossed out. He had a name that sounded like one of Li’l Abner’s friends and flaunted a funny-papers understanding of safer sex, telling me with a straight face that he was always safe because he would ask the guy first if he had AIDS. He wanted it in the shower, on the floor of the tiny apartment while I slept nearby (unbelievably…I slept soundly through more than one middle-of-the-night loose-booty call), while he was in the hospital with a mysterious elbow-joint infection (I was the one solicited that time)…and as annoying an experience as it was, I’m glad I lived with him that summer because it forced me to have an opinion about safe sex beyond simply repeating a slogan. I have no idea where he is now. Maybe God protects sluts and little children. But I would bet anything he regrets those days and that he can barely remember a fraction of the sexual experiences he cherished at the time.

I find it really fitting that Nate Berkus is on the cover of this issue of Out—a guy who survived a devastating near-death experience during the tsunami and seems to value his life more than ever. I’m sure he’s having great sex with his great bon-bon. You can value your life and your health and the health of the rest of the planet and still get off. And if you can’t, think about therapy.