Content Warning
This study guide contains discussions of substance use, sexual assault, trauma, discrimination, marginalization, toxic relationship dynamics, and mental health struggles. If you feel triggered or at risk of using, please reach out to your support network or local emergency services before continuing.
Introduction
I want to be honest with you about something: when I first started looking into chemsex addiction, I kept asking "Why? Why do we keep going back? What's wrong with us?"
And then I met Chris Connor, a sociologist from Michigan State University who researches chemsex in the U.S., and something clicked for me. This isn't just about individual willpower or moral failure. This is about systemsâthe structures of our society, our gay culture, even the apps on our phonesâthat create the perfect storm for chemsex use.
Chris helped me see that when a quarter of new HIV infections are linked to chemsex, when 12% of gay men are using stimulants (twice the rate of straight men), when we see these clear patterns in the dataâthis isn't random. Something bigger is happening here.
What gives me hope about this conversation is that Chris isn't just throwing around academic jargon. He's a queer man who's lived this reality, who's moved across the country multiple times and experienced firsthand how hard it is to find belonging in our community. He gets it.
If you're reading this and you're still using, I want you to know: understanding the "why" doesn't excuse the harm, but it can help you stop blaming yourself long enough to actually heal. You're not broken. You're responding to a broken system.
The Two Vulnerable Clusters: Ages 15-24 and 40+
Research consistently shows two age groups at highest risk for chemsex use: young men just coming of age, and men over 40. Understanding why these groups are vulnerable reveals a lot about what drives chemsex use in the first place.
Young Men (15-24): These guys are just figuring out who they are. Some are homeless after being kicked out by families. Others are cut off financially or emotionally from their support systems. Chris explains that drugs become "an avenue to soothe something that they're missing and to kind of cut loose." For many young gay men, chemsex helps them deal with anxieties around sexâanxieties that straight people never have to navigate in the same way. We live in a society that doesn't like to talk about sex, and "they sure as hell don't like to talk about gay sex," as Chris puts it.
Older Men (40+): When you turn 40 in gay culture, there's this pervasive feeling that you're suddenly not valuable anymore, that you're no longer sexually desirable. Chris shares that many of his friends in their fifties say that in their forties, "they felt like they were invisible." I can absolutely relate to thisâthat feeling that your shelf life has expired in the gay community.
But here's the deeper pattern: crystal meth became popular in the queer community in the 1990s and 2000s, when today's 40-50 year olds were in their twenties. These men came of age with this drug in the club scene. Now, decades later, some continue using, and Chris points out a troubling dynamic: "Older gay men then recruit younger gay men with, you know, because they have capital, they have access to drugs. And, you know, they can entice young folk in that way."
There's even a documentary called "Party Boy" that explores how predatory white men use drugs to exploit attractive young black men in the gay community. The power dynamics, the resource disparities, the manipulationâit's all part of this ecosystem.
Reflective Question: Which vulnerable cluster do you identify with, and what specific vulnerabilities from your age group have contributed to your relationship with chemsex?
The Root Causes: More Than Just Personal Choice
Chris's research identifies several structural factors that drive chemsex use. These aren't excusesâthey're explanations that help us understand the environment we're navigating.
Heteronormativity and Minority Stress
We grow up in a society where being gay is stigmatized. Even after coming out, we carry that internalized shame. Then we enter gay spaces that are structured like a "sexual marketplace"âChris references researcher Green's concept of the "sexual field," where circuit parties, bars, and Grindr create hierarchies based on a particular ideal standard rooted in heteronormative culture.
Think about it: gay men sometimes try to be "more masculine than the most masculine straight guy." We put on this front, this performance. And when you peel back those layers, you find so much anxiety, so much pressure to conform to an image that isn't even real.
Rejection and Marginalization
This one hits hard because it happens on multiple levels. First, we're rejected by our families, our communities, our churches. Thenâand this is crucialâwe're rejected by other gay men. Chris talks about how "hurt people hurt people," and sometimes "that nasty queen at the bar is someone who's struggling or has their own issues."
I shared a story in our conversation about a client who forced himself to go to a gay event, nervous as hell, only to have groups of guys literally turn their backs on him. He was devastated. His response? "Why would I do this when I can get on Grindr, say I party, a cool guy comes over, we have everything already in common. We know the deal. It's so much easier."
Journal Prompt: Describe a time when you felt rejected or invisible in a gay space. How did that experience influence your substance use patterns?
Body Image and Internalized Homophobia
Whether you're "too fat, too effeminate, too straight, not masculine enough"âthe gay community has created impossible standards. Chris himself gets critiqued for not sounding gay enough. There's even a documentary called "Do I Even Sound Gay?" about this specific anxiety.
I used to have this whole script prepared for when I'd meet guys from apps: "I'm not totally queeny, but I'm not straight acting. If you talk to me, you're going to know I'm gay. I get called ma'am all the time on customer service calls." Why did I have to explain my place on the spectrum just to be accepted?
The CDC reports that mental health disparities in gay communities are two to four times higher than in straight communitiesâdepression, anxiety, ADHD. All of this contributes to the appeal of chemsex.
Action Exercise: Write down three "rules" or "requirements" you've internalized about how you should look, sound, or behave to be accepted in gay spaces. Now write why each one is bullshit.
Delayed Sexual Development
Many of us didn't get to have normal sexual development in our youth. We snuck around, met in bathrooms, cars, cruising spots. Having those experiences as our arousal template sets us up perfectly for the secretive, transgressive nature of chemsex culture.
Chris mentions sociologist Laud Humphreys' groundbreaking study "The Tea Room Trade" about men meeting in public restrooms in St. Louis. These men projected "uber straight, uber religious conservative" images to mask their identities. That kind of compartmentalizationâthat mask-for-mask livingâcreates enormous psychological strain.
Sexual Disinhibition
For men with performance anxiety, body shame, or concerns about their dick size, chemsex offers a solution. The drug removes inhibitions, erases insecurities, and makes sex feel possible when it otherwise feels terrifying.
Chris mentions his colleague, a sex therapist in New York, whose practice is "devoted to helping people get over those sexual anxieties." The shame around sex in our community runs deep.
Reflective Question: What sexual anxiety or insecurity first led you to discover that chemsex "solved" that problem for you?
Innovative Deviance: Creating Alternative Structures
Here's where Chris's sociology really illuminates what's happening. He explains "strain theory"âwhen your needs aren't being met socially, economically, or emotionally, you create alternative structures to get those needs met. This is called "innovative deviance."
Within party-and-play culture, men are creating their own subculture that makes them feel normal, that gives them human connection, sex, validationâ"all of the things that they think are happening elsewhere, rightfully or wrongfully."
Think about it: you can't break into the social circles at the bar. You can't afford the expensive cover charges. You don't have the body or the look that gets attention. But you can say "I party" on Grindr, and suddenly your grid lights up with interested guys. You've found your community, your sense of belonging, your value.
It's not healthy, but it's logical. It makes sense as a response to an environment that has repeatedly told you you're not enough.
Journal Prompt: What needs (belonging, validation, intimacy, excitement) were you trying to meet through chemsex? Are there healthier ways to meet those same needs that you haven't explored yet?
Platform Capitalism: Apps Designed to Keep You Hooked
This section really opened my eyes. Chris explains "platform capitalism"âthe way that apps like Grindr, Sniffies, and Scruff are incentivized not to actually connect us, but to keep us on the platform as long as possible so they can serve us ads and increase their bottom line.
These platforms have literally engineered their apps to be addictive. That swipe motion? That infinite scroll? Those features are based on research from Las Vegas slot machines. They're designed to make you feel like there's an infinite pool of people out there, which reinforces toxic behavior because "I can be a dick to this guy because there's a hundred other people."
Chris published research on the toxic culture of Grindr, and it went viral because so many people related to it. The anonymity, the sped-up interactions ("Hey, how you doing? Here's a nude pic. Let's fuck"), the way social media "short circuits our brains"âall of this brings out the worst in us.
And here's my personal belief that I shared with Chris: Grindr knows they're making most of their money off tweakers. Who stays on the app the longest? People high on meth, scrolling for hours or days. Yet they refuse to put a simple helpline number or resource link on the app. They talk about the "user experience" but won't take responsibility for the fact that their platform is literally facilitating addiction and HIV transmission.
The "No Response Is a Response" Problem
Chris introduced me to the concept of the "looking glass self"âthe idea that we form our self-perception based on how we think others view us. When no one responds to you on an app, when no one finds you attractive, you internalize that as "something's wrong with me."
As Chris says, "'No response is a response' is fuck you, actually, because you are not only so chicken shit you won't actually communicate something, but you're reinforcing all of the anxiety that we carry with us."
Common courtesy matters. You can be kind. You can say, "This is what I'm looking for. Sorry, wish you luck." But most people don't, and that silence is devastating, especially when you're already vulnerable.
Action Exercise: Commit to responding kindly to people on dating apps this week, even if you're not interested. Notice how it feels to break the toxic pattern.
The Profound Isolation of Platform Culture
Here's the paradox: we're more "connected" than ever through social media, but we feel more isolated than ever. These platforms prioritize their bottom line over human connection. They sort us by body type, create hierarchies, and leave us with "a profound sense of alienation that's not just in the gay world, it's in the entire world."
When we couple that technological alienation with the sexual marketplace dynamics of gay culture, we end up with what Chris calls "this profound sense of loneliness" that drives people toward chemsex communities where, at least, they feel like they belong.
Reflective Question: In what ways has your use of dating apps increased your sense of loneliness or inadequacy, even while promising connection?
Rural vs. Urban: Different Struggles, Same Outcome
Chris has lived all over the countryâseven or eight movesâand he's noticed something important: whether you're in Chicago or tiny Galesburg, Illinois, "you can pull up a gay dating app and find drugs if you really want to."
But the experiences look different:
Rural Areas: Less resources, fewer organizations, more stigma. Chris talks about having to explain to his doctor what PrEP isâa doctor who'd been practicing for 20 years. There's less knowledge about gay sex and health in these areas. If you get labeled in a small town, "that sticks with you. You can't hide because the communities there are so small."
In rural areas, people often use because of inhibitions and stigmaâit helps them bypass the shame of being gay in an unwelcoming environment.
Urban Areas: More resources, but also more opportunities, more people using to "amplify something they haveâamplify their sex life." More affluent gay men using. But also the same exclusionary social dynamics, the same difficulty breaking into established friend groups.
Chris notes that "a lot of the affluent men who come to me usually have positions where they can't publicly admit that they use and they can't step away to go to rehab because then that's admitting they're used. They'll lose their licensure or their position."
Reflective Question: How has your geographic location (rural, suburban, or urban) shaped your access to both chemsex and recovery resources?
The Toxicity We Create
Throughout our conversation, Chris and I kept coming back to how toxic we are to each other within gay spaces. The way we talk to each other on Grindr. The way we exclude newcomers. The way we judge bodies, masculinity, race.
Chris talks about Midwesterners who "don't recognize the space that they take up and the space that they could give for other people, new people to come in." He gives an example of a community sports organization that won't let you join if you miss their enrollment period. "If you are somebody who's struggling, needs to find community, needs to find friendship, needs to find connection, I don't care what the fucking deadline is. Like, just let me in."
We need more spaces where you can just drop in and be part of what's going on. This matters for young people, older people, people trying to find dates, people new to an area. "We could do a much better job," Chris says.
I've experienced this personally. Everyone told me, "If you want to make friends, go to Stonewall." I tried. It was like a junior high girl experienceâcliquey, exclusionary, unwelcoming. The South isn't known for making space for others, and apparently neither is the Midwest.
Taking the Role of the Other
Chris introduced me to this concept: "taking the role of the other." It means being able to interpret how your actions influence the web of human experience around you. One theorist said you aren't fully developed as a human being until you can do this.
But social media and so much of our culture has reversed that process. We've lost the ability to consider how our rejection, our silence, our cruelty impacts others. Chris says, "More people could be more human, right? And could learn to take the role of the other."
Action Exercise: This week, intentionally include someone who's being left out of a conversation or group. Notice what it takes to make space for others.
The Data: What Research Tells Us
Let's get into the numbers, because they matter. Chris found that about 12% of gay and bisexual men use stimulants (meth, cocaine, or prescription drugs like Adderall), though estimates range from 4% to 15%. Gay men are twice as likely to use stimulants as straight men.
A quarter of new HIV infections are linked to chemsex. And here's what Chris found most fascinating: the people in chemsex culture having risky sexual experiences are the least likely to use PrEP or any protection. "I find that so fascinating that you have these people who are again, well-educated, white, affluent who would just throw caution to the wind."
The user demographics skew largely white and largely affluent, which tells us something about privilege and how it intersects with risk-taking behavior.
When you see numbers like this, Chris explains, "as a sociologist, it means that there's something structural going on." This isn't about individual moral failure. There's a pattern, and patterns indicate systems.
Why Research Matters (and Why It's Risky)
Chris was hesitant to publish some of his data because "whatever I put out there into the world can be used by folks for all kinds of things. It can be used to target people." He didn't want to give ammunition to police or government officials who want to criminalize our community.
But he also knew this conversation needed to happen. Your podcast is part of that, Dallas. We need to talk about sex, drug use, relationshipsâall the things that haven't been talked about honestly in too long.
Journal Prompt: Does knowing that structural factors contribute to chemsex use change how you view your own story? Does it make you more or less accountable to yourself?
The Pornography Script: What We Think Sex Should Be
Chris and I talked about how the pornography industry has given us a prescription for what sex should be: "Everybody has to be rock hard the whole time. Everybody has to come. You got to start out with a blow job, then you got to eat the ass, then you got to fuck this way, then you got to come, and then it's over."
This prescription was created by men with major internalized homophobia, creating this "straight acting" scene that became the ideal. Now we're all trying to live up to an image that isn't real.
Chris points out that porn actors are "rock hard all the time because they're taking an injection drug in their penis and there's other chemicals that they're using." It's a fun house mirror image of sex and gay life.
But here's the good news: Chris says "some of the best sex that I've ever had, especially recently, has not followed that script." We shouldn't be afraid of experimenting, of finding what actually works for our bodies and desires rather than performing someone else's fantasy.
Action Exercise: Write your own "script" for what good sex could look like for youâone that's based on actual pleasure, connection, and authenticity rather than porn fantasies.
Addiction vs. Use: Why Words Matter
Chris makes an important distinction that often gets lost: "I like to distinguish between addiction and use as two different things, right? Because there's so much of this topic, this conversation is stigmatized, and it's assumed that if you use once you're always going to use or that you're addicted."
Meth is "a hell of an addictive drug," but it doesn't always work the same way for everyone. In the addiction field, addiction is typically defined as "a behavior that interrupts other aspects of your life," versus casual use.
But here's what I want to emphasize from our conversation: whether we call it addiction or use, it's almost always a tool we're using because we don't have adequate mental health services. It's treating some underlying thingâanxiety around sex, trauma, living in a heteronormative society, need for validation.
I think we get so hung up on the word "addict" that we lose track of understanding why we're doing it. If you accept that label too quickly, it can actually get in the way of figuring out what's driving you to keep using.
Reflective Question: What mental health issue or emotional need is your chemsex use medicating? What would it take to address that root cause directly?
What Gives Us Hope
Near the end of our conversation, I asked Chris what gives him hope. His answer surprised and inspired me.
He's been going through the archives of anthropologist Stephen O. Murray, and it's like "time traveling through history." In the sixties and seventies, gay men were having deep conversations about spirituality, about sexuality, about what it means to be a partner. "You saw experimentations with relationships because we couldn't get married, so people had throuples, you know, and just this exploration of who we are as individuals and a community."
These same conversations happened again during the AIDS crisis. And Chris is starting to see them emerge now: "I see mobilization of a gay liberation front, like another wave of LGBT politics."
He's seeing groups in Kansas City and online having important conversations about who we are and who we want to be. "Right now we are under attack and we have to," he trails off, but the implication is clear: crisis creates opportunity for reinvention.
Chris also mentions the Dad and Daddies podcast as doing crucial work "destigmatizing the shame around sex and dealing with issues of inhibition."
What gives me hope is conversations like this one. It's researchers like Chris who are willing to look at the data honestly and say, "There's something structural going on here." It's all of you who keep downloading, sharing, and engaging with this work.
Journal Prompt: What would a "sexual revolution" in gay culture look like to you? What conversations do we need to be having that we're avoiding?
A Note on Privilege and Whiteness
One thing Chris emphasized that I want to make sure doesn't get lost: there are privilege and whiteness dynamics at play in chemsex culture. The documentary "Party Boy" explores how predatory white men use drugs to exploit young black men. The demographics of chemsex users skew white and affluent.
Privilege shows up in who can afford to use, who has access to recovery resources, who can keep their use hidden because of their social capital, and who faces criminalization versus treatment.
This is a conversation we need to keep having in our community.
Moving Forward: Be the Change
I want to end with something Chris said that really stuck with me. He talks about how we're terrible at making space for others, how we don't recognize the space we take up and could share.
If you're reading this and you're still in the scene, still usingâyou have the power to make that scene less toxic. You can respond kindly on apps. You can welcome the new guy at the party instead of ignoring him. You can be the person who makes someone else feel valued.
And if you're in recovery or trying to get there, you now have language for what happened to you. It wasn't just personal weakness. You were responding to real structural problems, real marginalization, real pain.
Understanding the system doesn't excuse the harm, but it can help you stop hating yourself long enough to heal.
Chris said something beautiful: "The gay world, because of its marginality, has had to learn all kinds of new ways of existing." We're creative, we're resilient, we're survivors. We've always found ways to thrive even when the world doesn't want us to.
We can do it again. We can create something better.
Action Exercise: Identify one small way you can make gay spaces (online or in person) less toxic this week. Do that thing. Report back on how it felt.
The work ahead is two-fold: heal yourself, and help dismantle the systems that made you sick. Join conversations. Make space for others. Be kinder on apps. Support research and advocacy. Vote for politicians who fund mental health services and LGBT resources.
And maybe most importantly: find your people. Not on an app. Not in a cloud. Real humans who see you, who value you, who remind you that you're worthy of connection without having to alter your consciousness first.
Love you,
Dallas đ
If this study guide resonated with you, please share it with someone who needs to hear this message. You can find more resources and subscribe to weekly newsletters at www.drdallasbragg.com.
Resources:
Party Boi Documentary https://partyboidocumentary.com/
Chemsex (Vice Documentary)https://www.imdb.com/title/tt5073738/
Do I sound Gay https://www.imdb.com/title/tt3997238/
Tea Room Trade https://www.amazon.com/Tearoom-Trade-Impersonal-public-Observations/dp/0202302830
Dad and Daddies https://www.instagram.com/dadsanddaddiespod/ Something for the weekend: Life in The Chemsex Underworld
https://www.goodreads.com/en/book/show/36002677-something-for-the-weekend
Some scholarship on this topic:
The complex social, cultural and psychological drivers of the âchemsexâ experiences of men who have sex with men: a systematic review and conceptual thematic synthesis of qualitative studies https://www.frontiersin.org/journals/public-health/articles/10.3389/fpubh.2025.1422775/full
Lesbian, Gay and Bisexual Behavioral Health: Results from the 2021 2022 National Surveys on Drug Use and Health
Responses