THE TOXICITY OF TOP AND BOTTOM CULTURE
Once upon a time, this writer met a tall, handsome stranger — or, to be blunt, a ‘total top’ online — and discovered just how far from a fairytale gay sex can be. “Will you be ready to go again soon?” I asked. “I didn’t finish…”
That’s right: he came without warning. Then rolled over, put his hands behind his head and smiled smugly. ‘That’s hot,’ you might be thinking. Or ‘Arrogance is sexy.’ I did, too, a bit. But I also thought: ‘Who does this selfish bastard think he is?’ I’d douched. Travelled across a city to meet him. Endured physical pain to please him. I needed to ejaculate and could have wanked at home. What about my needs?
Turns out, he not only did not care about those, but felt an antagonistic disregard for them. “Get dressed and get out,” he instructed, eyes radiating fury.
I respectfully complied. When someone asks you to leave their home, you do it. But rather than trouser-up in silence, I tried reasoning with him. (“I’m not saying it was bad…”) Then, he stood up and straightened his back, making it clear just how much taller he was than me.
‘THE POWER, YEAH (MOTORBIKE)’
A toxic, vaguely threatening top. A (perceived) bottom dismissed and demeaned. An uncommonly extreme example of power imbalance it may be, and one aggravated by a lack of prior communication on both sides, but the experience nevertheless opened my eyes to a trend in queer sex that I can’t unsee: a pervasive form of gay politics and distribution in sexual authority. Since when does bottoming in a casual sex scenario automatically mean being a mere receptacle? And I’m not referring to sub-dom roleplay, which happens overtly in pre-agreed circumstances. I’m talking about the almost subconscious rank and file that occurs when men penetrate men; the organisation of who’s hotter,, I want to scream.
