HOOK: E-zine By, For, and About Men in the Sex Industry

I came from a small town in England, from a good Catholic family. In good families, things like being gay are never discussed. From a young age, I always knew I was different from my brothers. I was never able to be part of them. The only one I felt I had a connection with was my oldest brother, which had left home. He was worldlier and knew a lot more about life than any of the others. I realized I had to leave my hometown to find me or what I thought was me.

I moved to London hoping to find what I was looking for. What was that? Love and kinship. It took me over a year to be able to come out and be so-called ‘gay.' I found what I considered love with my first boyfriend Steve. He was short, ok-looking and funny, but most of all, he gave me the sense of love and friendship that I had never found before. We moved in together and started to live what I hoped would be a life together, but there were always things that got in the way. He always wanted me at his beckoning call and to spend no time with my friends. It didn’t help that my friends didn’t like him much, (or at all, to be honest) but to me, that was their problem. One night when I went out, I came home to find that he had taken an overdose and was fading in and out. He wouldn’t listen to anything I said or anything I wanted to do to help him. So a friend of ours came and talked him 'round and took him to the hospital. The fact that he wouldn’t let me be there for him was the start of the end. The end came a couple of days later as I came home to find him setting in front of the fire with his ex. For me, my world crumbled. My work suffered to the point where I just walked out. I walked out of becoming one of the youngest managers of a London four star hotel with the biggest chain in the UK, and to do what? That was the question.

I went for a drink with some friends that I worked with. Most of them tried to change my mind (and return to my job). One said just fuck off for a while…go abroad…go to Holland. They speak English well, and you’ll have no problem finding a job. That night changed my life. The next day, I phoned my mother and a friend and said I'm off to Holland. I booked a flight, jumped on the plane, and left, not knowing what would happen.

I arrived at Schpol airport with 500 guilders and a hotel to stay at for a week that a friend organized for me. With all I had, I went looking to find work. I'm a skilled qualified hotelier. A hard worker. I just needed a job, but could find nothing. After running out of money, I called home and got some from the family, but that wouldn’t last long.

I went out one night to The Gaiety, a bar that would become a second home to me, I found something there that I had never found before: real close gay friends. They were people that cared and wanted to help me. One of them was Ben. He worked at a club called Yam Yum, a high class whore house with the most beautiful and intelligent girls you could ever meet. He took me back to his house and looked after me for a couple of weeks. Just until I get my self sorted out. Sorted right!

I found myself in the centre of the ’gay’ world. Men gave me compliments, wanting to have a bit of fun, and that is how it started. Just a bit of fun. I would dance at the IT playing on the pole and having lots of fun. I could dance, so, I thought, why not use it? And I did. I could have any guy in the place. So, I did.

A shy guy from a small town in England living a life I could never have imagined, I met all sorts of people and became very close friends with people I used to regard as freaks. Trannies, prostitutes (male and female), and the biggest group of pill poppers I had ever seen. They gave me attention. They liked me. They made me part of them. Not in a bad way because there was nothing wrong with using what you had and what you could give. My closest friend was Harry. God only knows where he is now. He was a 16-year-old prostitute, very feminine and very slight. He dressed up as a woman, and no one would know he wasn't. He worked from a house close to the Amstel, and when I went with him there, I realized that it wasn’t what I expected. It wasn’t sleazy. It wasn’t dirty. It was just like any other bar with rooms at the back for fun. When we went out, Harry paid for everything. His reasoning: I was a friend not a client.

At this stage, I was starting to use drugs with friends that I worked with at a hotel. We were going out every night, partying from 5pm till 3 or 4 in the morning and going straight to work. How we did it? I don’t know, but we did that every day. Until one night after partying, I went to see Harry. I walked in to the bar he worked in and there were many people I knew, and some people I had seen about town. I was in a party mode and just wanted to play. So, if anyone wanted me to play for money, then why not? That was it. I skirted around it for ages. I was regarded by many as a toyboy. I thought, why not become one? Going to work was no different than going for a night out on the town, except I didn’t pay for anything. The guys I went home with paid me. This carried on for around six months. By then, I started to get sick. I was exhausted from the scene and the lifestyle. Living life to the full everyday was harder than anyone could imagine.

Do I regret it? No. I had fun and enjoyed it when I did it. I had a lifestyle that no one at home could imagine or believe. But one thing it has left me with is a sexlife of a dummy. I feel nothing. When I slept with someone, I find the same feelings as I did when I was at work. I didn’t like it anymore. No one turned me on. When I moved back to London, I saw Steve. We tried to get back together, but sexually, there was nothing there.

The only guys I wanted to be around or with were straight. I found a friend Paul, who was straight with a girlfriend and all that. A genuine guy, he helped me through what I think was the worst part of my life: AIDS. I found out after moving back to England that a guy I use to go with was dying. I feared for my life and all that I was. I wanted to have a test but was too scared. I couldn’t live not knowing. Paul found a place that gave the same-day tests, and he took me for what I thought was a pub crawl. We went to a pub, and he said to me, “A couple of doors down, there’s a clinic, and your booked in there in ten minutes. I’m with you and will stay with you. What ever happens, I love you." And that was it. I had the security for what I felt at the time was the greatest challenge I could face. We went in and, wham-bam, I'm clear. That was it. I’m alive and staying alive. He hugged me and said to me, "Let's get pissed!"