Thanks, straight people, but I don't need your concern about my chemsex and chillout lifestyle

I have a pretty average job, but some of my newfound friends have important work lives; they’re charity workers, doctors, lawyers, and more. Does that shock you?

Hamish Parsons
Sunday 13 December 2015 15:35
Comments
A new documentary says chemsex 'has led to young men being trapped in a vicious circle of sex, addiction and dependence'
A new documentary says chemsex 'has led to young men being trapped in a vicious circle of sex, addiction and dependence'

Last year I became single for the first time in my adult life. While all my gay friends were spending their early twenties going out and having fun, I was cozying up to my boyfriend and opting for nights in by the fire. The wildest thing we ever did was puff on a joint at a friend’s BBQ one summer – crazy, I know.

But once singlehood beckoned again, I looked at that group of gay friends I’d neglected for seven or eight years and found that they’d all gone. They weren’t heading into town anymore on a Friday; they’d settled down themselves. So I called in a few dinner dates, and decided to get back out on the scene.

At one such dinner my friend asked if I wanted to join him to a party and I said, ‘Sure’ - it was Friday, after all. I had no idea that would mark the beginning of a habit.

That was March; I’ve not spent a single weekend drug-free since. I’ve never been addicted to anything, but ‘chillouts’ - and the two signature drugs of choice on said scene - have gotten me good.

The scariest element as I write this, sober on a Friday afternoon, is that I know I’m not ready to give it up; I like it. Does this make me a bad person?

This all started off as what I would term ‘classy’ chillouts, wherein nothing sexual was going on. It was just a group of guys getting together after spending some hours in a club and unwinding via mephedrone and G for hours. Some weekends these parties have easily gone on for two straight days.

I found another genre to chillouts a month or so into my new weekend life; the not-so-classy end of the spectrum, more commonly known as ‘chemsex’ parties.

I went to my first chemsex party by accident with a friend I’d made a couple of weeks before. I knew it would involve drugs, but what I didn’t expect to find upon arriving was 10 or so guys walking around in boxer shorts or nothing at all.

We didn’t join in with the sex end of business initially. I scored some supplies from the resident drug dealer and made conversation with the new faces that were relaxing on the sofa. I measured myself a shot of G, and became high over the course of 30 or so minutes; a bit of mephedrone up my nose and soon enough I was in my desired state. Am I bad person yet?

The alarm on my iPhone sounded an hour later: it was time to take another shot. This I did, but instead of re-taking my seat on the sofa, I wandered into a bedroom and found a couple of guys getting it on. I stopped, a little startled, but was invited to join – so I did. As the chemicals kicked in, it felt amazing. I felt amazing.

I stayed in that apartment for about a day, and had sex on and off throughout with innumerable guys. Then I returned the following Friday, and did it all again.

I’ve not become addicted to chemsex. In fact, I haven’t been to a sex-themed party during the weekend for some time now. But it’s true that I haven’t had sex without being under the influence since I was introduced to this new lifestyle.

But back to being a bad person: am I? Because I really don’t feel like I am. All of my friends do it, after all, and we can’t all be bad – can we?

I have a pretty average job, but some of my newfound friends have important work lives; they’re charity workers, doctors, lawyers, and more. That might shock you, but I don’t find it shocking or wrong. The only reason moral outrage about chillouts and chemsex has suddenly been ignited is because this hidden world has hit the mainstream media – and, let’s face it, the straight community. It’s not because we haven’t been doing it all along.

I know I’m sensible enough to access support when I feel I have a problem. At the moment, I don’t think I have that problem – I think it’s society’s perception of me that I struggle with, rather than the lifestyle itself. I’m enjoying the stuff I get up to at the weekend. For now, I’m content.

What isn’t going to help is a cohort of uniformed journalists and academics jumping on a bandwagon of manufactured outrage. I am yet to read an article on this that hasn’t left me feeling miserable about myself. Mephedrone doesn’t leave me feeling this way, nor does G – and chemsex and chillouts definitely don’t - but those articles do.

This is all my choice; I won’t blame anybody if it comes crashing down but myself. So why the false concern?

Hamish Parsons is a pseudonym

Register for free to continue reading

Registration is a free and easy way to support our truly independent journalism

By registering, you will also enjoy limited access to Premium articles, exclusive newsletters, commenting, and virtual events with our leading journalists

Please enter a valid email
Please enter a valid email
Must be at least 6 characters, include an upper and lower case character and a number
Must be at least 6 characters, include an upper and lower case character and a number
Must be at least 6 characters, include an upper and lower case character and a number
Please enter your first name
Special characters aren’t allowed
Please enter a name between 1 and 40 characters
Please enter your last name
Special characters aren’t allowed
Please enter a name between 1 and 40 characters
You must be over 18 years old to register
You must be over 18 years old to register
Opt-out-policy
You can opt-out at any time by signing in to your account to manage your preferences. Each email has a link to unsubscribe.

By clicking ‘Create my account’ you confirm that your data has been entered correctly and you have read and agree to our Terms of use, Cookie policy and Privacy notice.

This site is protected by reCAPTCHA and the Google Privacy policy and Terms of service apply.

Already have an account? sign in

By clicking ‘Register’ you confirm that your data has been entered correctly and you have read and agree to our Terms of use, Cookie policy and Privacy notice.

This site is protected by reCAPTCHA and the Google Privacy policy and Terms of service apply.

Register for free to continue reading

Registration is a free and easy way to support our truly independent journalism

By registering, you will also enjoy limited access to Premium articles, exclusive newsletters, commenting, and virtual events with our leading journalists

Already have an account? sign in

By clicking ‘Register’ you confirm that your data has been entered correctly and you have read and agree to our Terms of use, Cookie policy and Privacy notice.

This site is protected by reCAPTCHA and the Google Privacy policy and Terms of service apply.

Join our new commenting forum

Join thought-provoking conversations, follow other Independent readers and see their replies

Comments

Thank you for registering

Please refresh the page or navigate to another page on the site to be automatically logged inPlease refresh your browser to be logged in