Social Health

It gets better when we make it better. At HIM, we have a pretty simple idea: gay men with high self-esteem tend to live healthier lives and have access to better health choices. We're interested in improving social health factors that impact gay men, including the big-picture stuff like homophobia and heterosexism. We also have listings for our Professional Volunteers who specialize in social health.

London has Incredible Gay Life (or So I Hear).

Posted by HIM on Thursday August 13th, 2009

Since I moved to London in September, I've been kind of boring, really. I put it down to my winter hibernation: sleeping a lot, reading books, generally nesting. I've been working a Monday-to-Friday retail job, and going to a different museum every weekend. I've been to gallery private view openings, Dazed&Confused parties, and friends’ birthdays at various local pubs. Sometimes I'll go for a drink in one of the dirty fag bars where I live in East London, either the George & Dragon (art crowd meets fashion crowd, animatronic donkey on the wall, bartending boys in high heels) or the Joiners Arms (twinks meet daddies, drugs in the bathroom, scary-skinny shirtless bartender). While these places are fun and sleazy, they only represent a mere fraction of the nightlife on offer in old London town.

There's a whole universe of gay clubs, stores, restaurants, pubs, bathhouses that I haven't ever explored. Soho (the gay area in central London) still scares me; the facade of megaclub G-A-Y is still imposing, I haven't yet been into DV8 to check out their leather harness selection, and the total trips I've made to bathhouses in my life add up to a big fat zero. The gays here are just like everywhere else, I guess, and I'm not afraid of them, but it's the sheer size of the gay community in London that can be daunting. You can go to Fire in Vauxhall (south of the river) where everyone is high as a kite and dancefloor sex is a definite yes. You can go to the village in Soho for go-go dancers. You can go to Heaven or Porn Idol, or you can track down all manner of fetish parties at various underground and private clubs.

This sort of choice is not something I've encountered before. From my experience as a young gay coming of age on Vancouver’s Davie Street, you walk down one street, go to two clubs, a handful of bars, and... well, that’s it. There's a sense of comfort in those few blocks, and maybe that's what's holding me back in London (also, full disclosure: I'm hopeless at making fast-friends -- especially gay ones). I’ve got no familiar faces, no casual acquaintances, and no gay friends to take me by the hand and lead me into the jockstraps-and-sweatpants party. I'm woefully inexperienced for a young, single Canadian adrift in sea of English boys. Don’t get me wrong: I'm not upset or anxious about my lack of Gay England experiences -- I just don't want to move back to Canada without a story or two to tell.

Now, spring is here, the days are getting longer, and I can see myself exploring a bit more. It's amazing how much the sun can change your mood. This week, I start a fancy new job at designer boutique in Mayfair, so maybe I'll take a stroll down old Compton Street, pop into DV8, grab a coffee at Maison Bertaux, and make some friends down in Soho. Things are really looking up. Hopefully I'll soon have a ridiculous story to tell my grandkids about The Time I Went to a Bizarre Sex Party in London then Woke Up in a Dumpster.

- Kyle Humphrey