GenQ

So, you’ve seen the title of ‘not getting sex in the city’ and you’re more than likely thinking already that a particular television series or movie has inspired this column. Well you would be dead correct. But this column is about more than just sex, it’s about what happens before, after, what you’re thinking while you’re actually doing it, and as specified in the title, what happens when you don’t get any at all.

You may or may not have noticed that this column is written anonymously. I plan to keep it that way, well, at least for the time being anyway. But to avoid keeping you completely out of the loop, let me reveal some particulars about myself. I’m a single gay man in my twenties, who has lived in Sydney for about ten years. I’m a person who rarely hits ‘the scene’, enjoys literature and art, and will instantly develop a major crush on someone with any man who plays the violin well. And as you’ve probably figured out by now, it’s been a while since I last slept with someone. My physical figure, well... it’s a work in progress, let’s put it that way. The most recent song that I listened to on my iPod is Viva La Vida by Coldplay, and I love being involved in more ways than one. I think that’s enough for now.

As the title suggests, I am currently on a drought, just like the majority of the ‘land down under’. Except I don’t seem to be going down on anybody; I must be on level six sex restrictions. But I, like many other Sydneysiders, am curious to know as to what it is that men want, and how specifically they work. Elements of men are that obvious that it may as well be written on their forehead (or perhaps just as obvious if they undo their zippers), but on other occasions it will leave me restless and wondering. And it is for those two reasons that I am here.

I wouldn’t call this a conquest for love, and I wouldn’t call it a mission to get laid. All I am after is one word; satisfaction. How does the song go... “Push me, and then just touch me, till I can get my satisfaction.” So, with a packet of cigarettes that will only occasionally exist, along with my notebook, I will endeavour on a weekly basis to determine what it is that single gay men in Australia actually want, and how to go about getting it. Oh, and some heads up (excuse the pun), if you’re expecting this column to be clean, you might want to bring some tissues and thoughts with you in future weeks to help clean up the mess.

This is my story of not getting sex in the city. Enjoy.

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