Late Arrival

Personal background 
Born and raised in a Tel Aviv suburb, I had a glorious analogue childhood. Did my mandatory 3-year stint in the army, graduated in Computer Science, quickly ditched it for digital marketing, had few girlfriends, married a gorgeous Austrian, got divorced, moved to London at 37, and started dating men at 40.

I identify as bisexual (currently parked on the men side). I’m not big on identity labels – I might call myself a Londoner or a city boy, but I don’t lose sleep over being Israeli, Jewish, or queer. I had a fairly peaceful upbringing – no closet horror stories, no self-hate, always surrounded by a functional family and a big circle of friends. Coming out in a later stage of life was a smooth ride. I don’t have a huge emotional baggage and I don’t seek for society validation. I know, I’m privileged.

Now in my late 40s, I’m looking at the gay scene with fresh (and skeptical) eyes – as someone on the edge of both camps: not quite hetero-suburbia with the school-run crowd, and not fully immersed in the rainbow rave either.

Disclaimer: Yes, there’s a whole spectrum out there. No, I’m not trying to speak for everyone. I’m going for the overall shape of the mainstream(ish).

////Observations 👀

Where Are the Women?
One of the first things that struck me about the gay scene? The women vanished. Men-only clubs, gay running groups, gay hikes, gay cooking classes – it’s a sea of men. Now, maybe that made sense back when queer folks needed safe, private spaces. But today? In London? It feels off.

Women are people too (shocking, I know), so why the exclusion? I’ve always had women around me – friends, partners, confidantes. Walking into a man-only space still makes me uneasy. Sure, like-minded hangouts have their place, but this full-on gender gatekeeping feels more like a monoculture than a community. I want society, not a clone army. Sorry, boys.

The Power of the Pack
Alongside the all-male settings comes the phenomenon of socialising in massive packs. 6, 10, 20 gays out together – it’s like a Pride parade broke into your dinner plans. What’s wrong with it? Well, not much… unless you’re hoping for depth. Big groups can flatten interactions into surface-level banter. Genuine one-on-one moments get lost in the glittery groupthink. And it doesn’t seem to fade with age. Grown men in their 40s still rolling up like a Marvel cast reunion.

I get it – validation, support, singlehood solidarity – but at times it easily mutates into a toxic blend of sex-obsessed sameness, heavy partying, and recreational nihilism.

Sex: The Main Event
Let’s just call it: gays are obsessed with sex. Gyms, parties, festivals, holidays – nearly every occasion becomes a backdrop for potential hookups (and showcasing a gym-perfect body). And while liberation from taboos is something to celebrate, this may have shifted into… well, addiction. Like anything in life, balance matters. Overdoing it kills the spark, makes intimacy mechanical and rare. The endless pursuit of hotter partners and newer thrills (chemsex, porn-inspired kinks, zombie-like orgies known as “chills”) raises the bar so high that regular connection can’t compete. 

Gay saunas, club dark rooms, cruising parks – it’s all infrastructure for the validation economy. But here’s the rub: sex is a commodity, intimacy is a luxury.

Catch of the Day
With great sex comes… cute little infections. Chlamydia, Gonorrhoea, Syphilis- they’re having a Pride of their own.

Sure, straight people get STIs too, but let’s face it: higher volume, higher risk. I still remember the first time a hookup texted me he had Gonorrhoea. I was closeted, clueless, and terrified. Thank God for Dean Street Express clinic in Soho – a gay man’s sexual health temple, with a vibe somewhere between Boots and RuPaul.

Regular testing became routine. And even with free home test kits in the UK, STIs still sneak through. It’s part of the deal. Fame has its price.

House every weekend
Clubbing is the glue of gay social life – regardless of age or relationship status. Back in my 20s, I loved it. These days? Watching 40-somethings chase club nights every weekend like they’re 22 feels… exhausting.

And it’s not even about the music anymore. Me and straight friends might go for a DJ we like. Many gays go for the body count. Unsurprisingly, this fuels drug use, heavy drinking, all-nighters, after-parties (aka “chills”), and a lot of not-so-wholesome mornings.

What’s wild is the speed of intimacy on dance floors – Shirts fly off, and the hunt for passionate kisses with complete strangers kicks off at the first bass drop. Instant intimacy is still intimacy, I suppose.

Temple of the Pump
Temples, churches and mosques are what gyms are to for many gay men. The gym is sacred ground – complete with rituals, garments (short shorts and tank tops), and worship (of their own reflection). Choosing the right gym is a quest. Attending it is a lifestyle. Documenting it? A part-time job. Expect at least four weekly visits, a selfie for each one, and lighting assessments worthy of a Netflix shoot.

And let’s be honest – fitness is only half the story. The other half is flexing for potential hookups. Some gyms are unofficial pickup zones, and a few are officially known for changing-room “networking”.

Always in Airplane Mode
No kids, more cash, great abs – what do you do? You travel.
Gay men have perfected the art of the aspirational holiday. Spoiler: These vacations are less about exploration and more about exposure – of bodies, brands, and bedmates.

Think Madrid pride (July), Mykonos (August) and Rio (December), where gays from all over the world are flocking into same places and at same times to rub half-naked agains each other in mass gatherings, spiking chances to hook-up. Thanks to a well synchronised global gay herd, my Instagram is flooded with tanned torsos, rainbow speedos and Jacquemus bucket hats all at once.

Grindr: The Gay Hunger Games
Ah, Grindr. Part hookup app, part psychological experiment, part modern battlefield. Sure, it’s a sex app. But also a social one – especially for those of us who don’t hit the gay bars and clubs. I’ve met amazing people on it (including long-term partners), but let’s not pretend it isn’t its own chaotic ecosystem.

The Problems?
Too many choices. You’re one torso in a sea of torsos. Even if you spark with someone, odds are they’re chatting with 20 others too.

Bad behaviour. The app brings out the worst in people. Blunt replies, sleazy intros, ghosting galore. Also: good grammar is on the brink of extinction.

General truths I’ve learned from Grindr:
– Muscular standards have plummeted 
– All daddies seem to be 39. Forever.
– A diamond ring doesn’t mean a marriage proposal 
– Muscle hunks have a super power of having sex with anyone, anytime
– Fresh meat (like visitors) get more sex (for the first 7 days)

Dos & Don’ts
– You don’t need to be a model but you should be able to take good pictures of yourself
– If you hide your height, I’ll assume you’re 5’5
– If you hide your age, I’ll assume you’re 60
– If your pics are blurry, I’ll assume it’s from 10 years ago
– If your display name is XXXL or SuckMeNow, it will probably won’t work between us
– If I ignored your first tap, I will probably ignore the second and third
– Things you shouldn’t say about yourself: hot, handsome, smart, picky af.
– If your face pics expire, so does my interest in you
– “Good u” isn’t a sentence (and real men use punctuation)
– There’s a right way to reject someone
– Our sex will be as good as our conversation
– Don’t send me your homemade porn video unless it won an Oscar

Dating
One of the first things a gay friend told me when I started dating men: “No date before the first sex.” At first, I thought he was joking. He wasn’t.

Unlike straight dating – where the build-up is everything—gay dating often starts in reverse. You meet topless at a party, sweaty in a gym, or anonymous on an app. Hookup first, maybe a coffee later (if anyone remembers each other’s names). Add the sex-obsessed gay culture and the endless inventory of fresh bodies if you live in a big city, no one really seems to settle down.

But weirdly… sometimes, the sex-first model works. I’ve had hookups that unexpectedly bloomed into deep conversations and real intimacy. Then – poof – they ghost you like a pro. I call these moments micro-romances. They don’t last long, but they’re powerful, self-contained stories. Maybe it’s time we stopped chasing fairy-tale “forevers” and learned to appreciate the beauty of temporary connection. But can we settle for at least a month? Like… a passionate, emotionally available February would suits me better.

Open for Business
In the gay community, monogamy is often optional, and open relationships have become close to the norm. These days, the concept is gaining traction in straight society too—often as a way to revive long-term partnerships, after they worked hard to keep it. But for many queer people, non-monogamy isn’t just a quick fix – it’s a core part of how they envision relationships, ensuring that, dear lord, their sex lives don’t end up compromised.

For many gay couples, opening up is something that happens around the 12-month mark—almost like an anniversary gift. In theory, it makes sense. Desire wanes, routines settle in, and separating sex from love is logical.
In practice? Slippery slope.

While I don’t oppose open relationships in principle, I’ve seen too many couples use them as a hall pass to relive singlehood. There’s a difference between having agreements… and just continuing to act single while wearing matching rings.

Balance, again, is key. Openness doesn’t mean emptiness.

Final reflection
Don’t get me wrong—yes, I may sound like a grumpy old man standing outside the club, mumbling about the good old days. Maybe I am missing out on the fun, the sex, the chaos.

Gay men, after all, are free. Free from the hetero hamster wheel of marriage and sedan cars. They can live gloriously decadent lives, indulging in humanity’s most primal needs, unapologetically.

But here’s what gets me: so many of them look miserable.
I say that not from judgment, but from observation. Behind the perfectly filtered selfies, the gym-honed bodies, the endless hookups—there’s often a kind of hollowness. A lot of dysfunction. A lot of distraction masquerading as joy. Constant need of validation.

Look, I’m not here to tell anyone how to live. Each to their own orgy. But if mainstream gay culture is supposed to be the prize at the end of the rainbow… it’s doesn’t seem to be working for everyone.

Maybe it’s time we gave ourselves permission to imagine a different way of being—one that includes pleasure, but also purpose. Sex, but also connection. A life that’s loud, sure – but not just for show.

😘

Stalk me @taldigital