Yoga, Gonorrhea, and the Middle Way

Two months ago, I wrote about embracing the yoga practice of sexual restraint, brahmacharya, which is one of the five yamas in the first limb of yoga.

Yesterday, I was lying face down on an exam table in my doctor’s office, my cargo shorts pulled down, ass up, and a needle injecting antibiotics into my left ass cheek to treat gonorrhea found in my urine.

So, what’s going on?

Over the past two months, I’ve spent more of my time doing asana yoga (poses) at a yoga studio than attending my cruisy gym or tapping away on my Grindr app. I’ve done more creative projects: written more, listened to more music, kept up with my singing lessons, cooked more, read more, and planned a group vacation.

I’ve spent a lot more time on my own, and that’s been lonely.

And… I’ve still had lots of sex.

Let’s be honest. Mike Gerle’s sexual restraint is a sexual conservative’s carnal bacchanal. But, relative to my previous hook-up load, I’m guessing I’ve reduced the number of individual encounters by 60%.

Has anything really changed?

The good little boy inside of me, despite all the deprogramming I’ve invested in, still wants to write a story of immaculate change. Something clinging to my psyche makes me want to tell you how I left a lifetime of kneeling faithfully at the altar of sensual delight to find a more enlightened path free of the demands emanating from my balls.

This is at odds with another part of me that wants to tell critics of my sexual behavior to take a nice, long look at my middle finger.

The reality of what’s changed is more nuanced than either of those scenarios.

My sexual practice is not about pursuing and engaging in sex all day, every day. And it’s not about abstinence, monogamy, or being sex negative. I’m not trying to appease God, an institution, a school, a government, my bio-family, or my chosen-family.

I’m a grown ass man now, free to make any choice I want. I even have the support of my husband to explore my sexuality any way I want, even when it makes him jealous. I have the unconditional love of my bio-family who embrace me even when I’m winning gay men’s leather contests and writing a blog called The Sensitive Slut. This is a choice I’m making for myself.

I’m trying to choose well.

The goal is about finding contentment, a state of being more sustainable than happiness. It’s not about fitting into moral purity defined by someone else

What’s changed is being conscious of the intention behind what or who is receiving my most precious resource, which is my attention. Instead of letting an app on my phone seduce me into distraction, I’m doing my best to consciously use my phone to place my attention on something edifying, like connection.

So, it is about sexual restraint, using moderation as a tool to maximize contentment with some sustained bouts of hardcore happiness along the way. It’s about making the sex I have as generative as possible. It’s about investing my attention rather than spending it.

I’m using sex as one of life’s most potent spices. Like salt, it can transform a sensual experience into delight, or it can disgust the palate. It all depends on how it’s used.

At least that’s the theory.

Presently, I think I may have overcorrected, like I need a little more salt in my diet.

I’ve felt more lonely than I need to.

What I’ll continue to lean into.

Repeats: I’m picking regulars over randoms

Having regular fuck buddies is a new practice for me.

Picking a regular over a random hookup has felt really good. I get that this is a normal practice for many guys, like my husband, but for me, it’s new. I’ve noticed that this leads to more “pillow talk” that is deeper than giving them directions out of my building. I’ve learned about their husbands and swapped relationship tips. I’ve experienced a lot more making out, body contact, and eye gazing. Having sex with interesting individuals is more edifying than fucking well-formed meat sacks.

Sex venues: Love the one you’re with.

At DenLA, a public orgy here in LA, I let my attention stay with the guy I’m with rather than trying to check him off my hotties to do list. There seems to be a short span of time during a sex party hook-up when it’s acknowledged by both guys that the check box has been made, both say thanks, and then on to the next. When I’ve offered to keep going, adding more empathy and sensuality, more love if you will, guys respond extremely well, giving the love back. Even in the middle of an orgy, a giving connection can happen. We’re still geared up, sliding in and out, but the quality of the encounter is vastly different.

Some hotties may go unfucked…

Parties with a dark room:

At a private pool party with a sex space set up in a bedroom near the bathroom, I choose to keep talking to friends outside by the pool rather than stalk the sex space. This led to one very satisfying fuck with a regular and multiple connections with guys I didn’t want to fuck because I was outside by the pool instead of giving all my attention to the sex space.

Random Hookups:

On apps or in cruising venues like the gym, I look in their eyes (even if it’s on an app) and don’t fool myself when I see crazy in their eyes. I read body language or what they text on an app and follow through with the ones that fit my intention to connect.

Work in progress

As I said in my original post, this is an experiment, a work in progress.

What’s changed for good is pursuing quality over quantity.

This requires me to be present with my thoughts and feelings so that I can determine if my intentions are going to be satisfied with who and what I am giving my attention to.

This won’t keep me from acquiring gonorrhea from a random, but sweet connections are worth the risk.

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