A shy, introverted, morning person’s reflections on a gay cruise.
Hwæt. Last week I went on an Atlantis cruise: 5200 men and a handful of women/nonbinary people trapped on a giant ship hurtling its way through the western Caribbean. If it strikes you that I’m ill-suited for such an adventure, I would agree. Let’s start by enumerating the ways in which that is true:
- I am an introvert, and it was challenging to have only my cabin to escape other people. I don’t count my family as people, so I don’t often need to escape them at the beach house. And in Provincetown or London I can take a walk or go on a bike ride or find a quiet park bench where I can read. Those options didn’t exist on board, which did stress me out a bit.
- I don’t particularly like the sun, which makes me squint and gives me wrinkles.
- I’m a morning person. So I’d get up at 7am and head to the Starbucks on board to get a flat white, and find myself amidst a throng of jockstrap-clad men finishing up their parties from the night before. Which isn’t bad. Just incongruous.
- I think I’m awesome but I’m not sure I’m likeable, so I tend to be pretty shy around strangers. And in the absence of someone telling me they like me I tend to assume I’m imposing on them if I seek their attention.
- I don’t enjoy dancing the night away. Nightclubs are instrumental for me.
- I live in a fantastic neighbourhood in a major world city, with great restaurants and shops and cultural institutions. So claims about the amazing food and/or shows were more than slightly perplexing. Akin to people raving about the amenities at the Mall of America.
- It turns out I’m an aesthetic snob, so the design — which I’d characterize as Marriott hotel conference centre ca. 2003 — was a constant assault on the senses.
But: I enjoyed myself plenty. I’m not sure whether I’d go on another, but I’m glad I went. And if you’re a shy, introverted, morning person like me, you shouldn’t dismiss it as an experience that’s not for you. This twitter post, which spurred a big reaction, is not an accurate representation of my experience on board.
Some of the things I worried about before I boarded the ship:
- That it would be full of circuit boys/plastics/mean gays. There were some. Don’t believe anyone who tells you “everyone on board is nice”. There were some people who were dismissive / cliquey / rude. But they were a small minority. And like all gay holiday destinations, on the whole people are a lot more open to greeting/chatting with people unlike themselves than in daily life.
- That my body wasn’t good enough. Now, I don’t think I have a bad body. I’ve probably got the best body I can for a) being 38, b) prioritising reading books over most other activities, c) being lazy, and d) eating pizza/mac & cheese whenever I want…which is whenever I see either food. But a week in a swimsuit with people who had spent the last 3 months avoiding carbs and doing 200 crunches a day scared me. But thankfully in a ship of 5200 people we came in all shapes and sizes, and within a couple days I was much less self-conscious.
- That I’d be the odd man out for not partying (in both senses of the word). This one was kind of true. But it didn’t exclude me from making new friends. I just did so during the days. And I definitely came off the ship feeling much better rested than a lot of folks. And the parties never took up much of the ship. I went to tea a couple times (I *do* love a tea dance), but if I had stayed up at the pool I would not have even been aware that it was happening.
- That I’d feel old. I’m not sure the actual statistics, but I’d bet the median age was somewhere between 36 and 38. And the range was huge. There were plenty of guys in their 60s/70s/80s, and it was great to see them included in the community.
- That people would behave hedonistically, with no respect for the staff. This I didn’t find at all. In fact, more than a dozen staff members told me, unprompted, how much they look forward to the gay cruises. No matter what shenanigans we got up to, they told me we’re better behaved than children and their (often drunk and entitled) parents. And we’re more discreet than the [straight] swingers’ cruise. And we drink a lot and tip generously. So that was nice.
If gay sex makes you uncomfortable you probably want to stop reading now.
That it would be a floating sauna/bathhouse. This, to be honest, wasn’t a worry so much as something that I’d heard from several people, both those who had gone and those who hadn’t. That was reinforced by the rules they sent around before the cruise started, two of which stood out in particular: absolutely do not bring an iron on board (aside: who needs to iron a speedo?) and don’t have sex on your balcony when the ship is in port.
I should say here that I think sex is a good & healthy part of life. I think one of the best things about LGBT culture is the rejection of societal stigma about sex. I think sex should be fun and dirty and affirming, and as frequent or infrequent as one wants it to be. And I had a prodigious amount of sex. I have now had sex with more people than books I’ve read this year.
And sex was very available on board. A few examples: The cabin attendants checked (and if necessary replaced) one’s sheets three times each day. I saw a couple have sex in a jacuzzi fairly early one morning (~9am), when I was one of the only other people on deck. I didn’t see (but did hear about) plenty of sex on the dance floor late at night. One evening I was worried I’d be late for dinner because when I got back to my room to change there was a hot guy writing a note on my neighbor’s door, and I invited him in and he invited me in. And then I still beat the group to dinner because gays take forever to change.
