Nowadays, I would no more think of going on a gay-only holiday than I would think of going on a beach holiday to North Korea. But then again, perhaps those types of trips aren’t aimed at me. What put me off this type of holiday was a boat trip in Florida I took in 1993. I had driven to Key West from Miami and rather nervously booked into a gay only hotel. I’d never stayed in one before. Let’s put it this way, it was quite an eye-opener to someone not very familiar with the ways of these establishments. I soon got the hang of it, needless to say. Ooh, er.
One day I decided to go on an organised day trip on a boat with around a dozen other gay guys. To say that they mostly fitted a stereotype is to insult stereotypes. It was like Sean off Coronation Street meeting his eleven identical cousins, all preening themselves while talking ten to the dozen in the campest of American accents. Not my ideal way of spending six hours bobbing up and down on water, unable to escape. And then came the thunder and lightning, which usually happens at around 3pm every day in southern Florida. Our boat actually got hit by the lightning, which was quite an experience. The screams had to be heard to be believed. It was a relief in more than one way to get back to the shore without having either been burnt to a cinder or deafened by the constant uber-camp babble.
Not that long afterwards a friend went on a gay-only cruise around the Caribbean for seven days. He described it as a week-long orgy. He reckoned at times he had to lock himself in his cabin. Well, he’s a good looking lad, but I reckon he protested just that little bit too much. I’ve heard similar tales of gay-only skiing trips, where monogamous couples were treated with a diffident air of disdain and contempt because they wouldn’t join in the fun. Perhaps they are the exception, but there does seem to be a common theme to some of these holidays.
And why not? If that’s your thing, it’s a bit like a holiday version of Grindr without needing a phone. I’m certainly not looking down my nose at people who go on what are tantamount to sex holidays. If I were twenty years younger… Oh, and not married [he adds, hastily].
So apart from the distinct possibility of getting your end away on a regular basis, what prompts people to go on gay-only holidays? I reckon it’s a bit like supporting a football team. You’re part of a tribe, and when you’re with your tribe you lose certain inhibitions. You’ve got a lot in common. You can totally be yourself without worrying what certain other members of society will think. You have things in common. Not just a cock. There’s no pressure to conform to society’s norms. The only pressure is to conform to a sort of gay norm, however you define that.
The main drawback is that if you’re going on a sun-based holiday and you don’t have the body beautiful there’s that tremendous temptation to come over all shy and be ashamed to reveal all. This thought is reinforced by the adverts for gay resorts and cruises, where everyone pictured is an adonis with the body beautiful. The reality, I am assured, is somewhat different. I’ve never been on a gay beach holiday but I’m sure there are plenty of love handles to go round.
My only experience of a gay resort holiday was over new year 1994/5 when I booked myself into a gay resort in Palm Springs. I hate new year, so I thought this might be a good antidote to my normally horrendous time on new year’s eve. It wasn’t. I have never felt so uncomfortable in my life. It was full of older gay couples, all of whom seemed determined to have a threesome with me. I even missed the whole midnight celebrations as I had fallen asleep at 8pm! I lasted two days before I drove off to the bright lights of Las Vegas five days earlier than planned. It was almost a relief to re-enter the world of the straights.
This article appeared in the January issue of Attitude Magazine
