How Has the Monkeypox Outbreak Affected Your Sex Life?

It’s been almost two years to the day that I penned a piece on The Sword about how crazy I was going having not sucked a dick in five months. That was in August of 2020, during the relative earlier stages of the coronavirus outbreak. My sexless streak would stretch to a full 15 months, finally broken after I received my second dose of the original vaccine. But since then, my dick-suckin’ days still ain’t what they used to be.

That’s not a period of time that I wanted to replicate anytime soon, yet here we are again: With the rise of the monkeypox outbreak, I am now beginning Week 6 of no sexual activity. For those of you in committed and monogamous sexual relationships, I am envious. But for many of the rest of us (including single people like myself), finding temporary release (in person) with someone else comes at too much of a potential risk (don’t believe me? Listen to gay porn newcomer and NakedSword Originals star Greg Riley talk about the pox and anal lesions that multiplied on his body).

No, monkeypox is not officially a sexually transmitted disease, but for all intents, it sort of is. The CDC notes that “monkeypox mainly spreads from human to human through direct contact with infectious rashes, scabs or bodily fluids. It can also be transmitted from respiratory secretions during prolonged face-to-face contact, or during intimate physical contact, such as kissing, cuddling or sex. People can become infected by touching items—such as clothing or bedsheets—previously used by someone who is infectious.”

With more than 28,000 cases (and rising) of monkeypox reported in 88 countries so far, the World Health Organization has declared it a global health emergency—and it has primarily affected men who have sex with men. It is part of the same family of viruses that cause smallpox.

The CDC notes that infections typically last two to four weeks and “begin with flu-like symptoms—including fever, headaches, muscle aches and exhaustion. Eventually, fluid-filled bumps—or ‘pox’—spread across the skin. Health officials have noted that the latest monkeypox cases often involve genital rashes that can be confused with syphilis or herpes.”

As with the coronavirus outbreak a few years ago, I quickly found myself surprised at how cavalier many people I chatted with on hookup apps had become about it: “I don’t have it” they’d insist just moments after sharing that they had hooked up recently with other dudes, but were convinced they were fine because “I didn’t notice any outbreaks on their skin.” Umm…asymptomatic transfer, anyone?! (Jesus!)

As a recent Washington Post article noted: “Many public health officials and activists who spent decades on the front lines of the battle against HIV/AIDS say they have learned it is futile to tell people to have less sex. That stance puts them at odds with the WHO, a top New York epidemiologist who condemned the city’s messaging and others within the gay community who say gay men deserve direct warnings before it is too late to end the outbreak.”

The article quotes famous sex columnist Dan Savage, who takes issue with the warnings not being severe enough: “It was devaluing gay men’s lives and health not to warn gay men. Now, here we are, really on the verge of monkeypox being endemic in gay communities all over the world, and how is that for stigma?”

While I appreciate that passion, I also have to ask aloud: Given the basic facts that were available, shouldn’t we all have known better anyway without an official stance from governing agencies? Can’t we sacrifice not having unprotected group sex with total strangers for a few months to benefit the greater good?

I live in an area with a large concentration of gay men, so the outbreak has been higher than in most other parts of the country. I have yet to get the first dose of the vaccine, but finally got a notification to schedule it. To do so, however, I had to fill out an online form and submit it to our state government, answering questions about how many sexual partners I had in a 14-day period; whether I was a sex worker; and if I went to bath houses or sex parties (among other questions). Not exactly the kind of information I want an official record of at the government, but what are you gonna do? (It seems that other states have less invasive questions.)

So best-case scenario, I will probably get a second shot in early September, and will probably wait another few weeks after that before I hook up again. But I wonder if this outbreak is going to make me even more discerning and picky than I already became after my COVID quarantine pause (and if my bush will grow as unruly as it did during that lazy period). Actually, I know I will be even more hesitant to hook up with new people. The question remains—to what degree?

In the meantime, I can rest assured that a lot of amazing porn will help me get through those times when I need a release. As we learned during the coronavirus outbreak, porn serves a valuable purpose. (Check out our Best of 2022 lists for some great scenes!)

How has the monkeypox outbreak affected your sexual activity, if at all?