Şeker
I had never really been a sauna gay. Curiosity was always there but my own body shame kept me away. The first time I went to XSX, I had to listen to Beyoncé’s “I’m that girl” while walking up the stairs to reception just to hype myself up. Before going in, I sat outside for ten minutes watching YouTube videos titled: “How to look confident.” Thankfully I don’t nervous anymore. Well, that nervous anymore.
Yes, we all know what these places are for, and there’s a lot of that, but it’s more than that. It can be a place of community and companionship, a bit like a church but in here we are engaged in different types of worship.
I have learnt some very important lessons here:
Intimacy. There is a formula to intimacy, I=V+L. Intimacy equals vulnerability with a little bit of luck.
Intimacy comes in many forms but will only happen if you’re willing to receive it. It is impossible to have intimacy without vulnerability. Vulnerability doesn’t mean sharing your trauma before your name, vulnerability, like bodies in this place, comes in many forms. It can be subtle, flirty even. The rest is just luck.
Rejection. To succeed in this place you have to be open to, and absolutely OK with rejection. Rejection sounds harsh, but in here it rarely is. Another thing, you have to understand that if you get a “no” it means no and no further explanation is owed to you. In here you need to say no with kindness, and in here it must be received with grace. That’s the rule here, if you can’t be ok with that you won’t have a good time. We must look after each other, even when our attraction runs innocently in another direction.
And these are some of the people who taught me:
Aron: body like an Olympian, Egyptian, told me I was the most beautiful man he’s ever seen. I told him he was lying. He just wanted to cuddle and talk, and we did. We talked about middle eastern politics while cuddling for hours. The tableau was only broken when I really, really needed to go to the toilet. We never saw each other again.
That guy with the white hat: Five times! We had a thing, too. He knew it and I knew it. Five times. Five.
Farhad: Iranian, architect with very kind eyes. We talked about our favourite architects. His, Renzo Piano, mine, Oscar Niemeyer. While we talked about the genius of Dame Zaha Hadid and Jorn Utzon someone in a room nearby was having the limit of his abilities tested with both hands.
Unknown: he hugged me with such tenderness and kissed me with such passion it was as if he had spent all of his life waiting for me. We kissed so much and so hard my lip bled. I fell in love with him many times over. We only needed each other. I never found out what he looked like.
The American Marine: I didn’t think that was humanly possible.
Vulcan. His name was fucking Vulcan, at least that’s what he told me. He was a kiwi rugby player. He was stunning, absolutely stunning. So stunning that I was almost embarrassed to be seen with him, standing next to someone so god-like would only highlight to others how repulsive my own body is. This is despite the fact that he approached me first. The stares of all of the muscled whitebois as he grabbed my hand and led me to somewhere more private were delicious. I hope they heard us. Vulcan is (and will likely forever be) my number 1 lover.
David Joaquin Javier: we realised we had the exact same name and we both were too stoned for this. We talked about how vulnerability is discouraged in Latino boys and how that’s fucked us up so much as Latino men. He was flying back home to Paraguay the next day.
Unknown muscled jocks in Athens. Kissing two people at once is a most perfect thing. Kissing two strangers at once is a most electrifying thing.
The three men dot com-esque men under the fountain in Istanbul. I thought things like that only happened in movies, and never to me.
Arthur: He told me he was an actual fireman. His body was all the proof I needed to know that he was telling me the truth. He just walked right up to me and kissed me. I unlocked a lifetime achievement that day. I found him on Instagram, indeed a fireman.
Zhiyu: we argued about who sung the Star Spangled Banner™ the best at the Super Bowl. Me, Whitney (of course don’t be so fucking stupid). He, Gaga. That man was all straight lines, his abs had abs. He had a great body, and loved showing it off and he had a very willing audience:
Paul- I was there every Sunday because he was there every Sunday. We found each other every time. I was obsessed with him. To me, ideal in every way. He was the first person I ever had the balls to approach first. He was very kind when I asked him on a date and he told me he was flattered but he was in a relationship. Him, his husband and their two dogs came over the other day for dinner.
Jeremie- his first words to me were: “I’m going to feed you.” The nerve and audacity of this man. He didn’t need to be so French about the whole thing. We had a coffee afterwards, that’s how I know he is French.
Vasili: I purposely didn’t choose for us to go into the cubicle that had the light on. I didn’t want this half Italian half Greek, 6’4” living classical statue of a man to realise he had made a mistake. I look better in dim light and best in darkness. Except he insisted on turning the light on to its highest fluorescent setting. “You are so beautiful, I need to see you.” He said in heavily accented English. Some of my best work ever. As he got back to his feet he said to me, “I will never forget this.”
I won’t either, Vasili. I won’t either.
