Recently Channel 4 contacted me out of the blue. They wanted to speak to a gay man about the internet and sex, and apparently a quick Google search gave them my name.
I’m not sure what that says about me. Slut? Social media whore? Porn addict?Whatever. They were certainly barking up the right tree.
So I had to compose my thoughts on the matter, in preparation for my interview. I come over all studious whenever there’s a chance I’m going to be on telly. I don’t want to make a tit of myself like some Z-list celebrity heading into the Big Brother House.
I thought about it. Has the internet ruined sex?
I’d say no. The internet has certainly changed sex. In the past men used to meet under bridges or in woods or in public toilets and wait. If they were lucky, they’d get laid.
Now you only have to type in specs: cock size, skin tone, eye colour. Sit back. Press enter. See what scrolls up before you like a supermarket conveyor belt.
It’ll only be a matter of time before Fitlads copies Amazon: ‘Guys who shagged this dude also shagged the following . . . ‘ There’ll be ratings out of five. ‘Did you find this review useful?’
Cybersex has proven to be the safest sex possible. Who needs condoms when you can jack off with a stranger over Cam4, with a thousand dirty old men watching from around the world? And if you don’t feel cheap enough, they might even tip you in offensively trifling increments: £1.00. £2.34. £10.12. Still, it’s better than working in a call centre for the same pay per hour, right?
There are problems with the net too, of course. There are men who use fake pics to lure unsuspecting twinks into their beds. There are paedos grooming 15 year-olds. But then again, there’s me: when I was 15, I was trying to groom older guys instead. I pretended I was 19 and hung around park benches, trying to lure grandfathers over with a packet of Werther’s Originals . . .
If you take charge and are active in searching for what you want, the internet can be a wonderfully empowering tool. Especially for sex. You no longer need to scrawl details of an orgy on the wall in the local cottage. You can set up an event on Facebook. You can hashtag #gangrapemeanddumpyourspunkinmyhole, and I’m sure there will be plenty who’ll oblige.
Think about what it must have been like before. (It is LGBT History Month, after all. Cast your mind back.) Picture it: lonely men in the closet. Hanging out in abandoned warehouses for a fleeting touch of greasy skin. The rough greeting of a new lover, as he throws you double over a railing and fucks your brains out without even saying hi. The stink of guilt and shame as you return to your wife and the cum-stained porn rags hidden under your bed. The secret double-life and the giddy anticipation whenever you sneak out the house.
Actually, that sounds kinda fun.
Perhaps the internet did ruin sex, after all!