Gay English writer Chris Moore, author of Gut Feelings and Fall Out, told Pink News about the rare disease that prevents him from experiencing anal sex, an act that could cause his death. Read his report in full.
I was about 11 years old when I started to develop feelings for boys. I remember going to football games that I hated and trying not to stare when the players took off their shirts.
There was a fascination and desire that I was unable to rationalize. A few months later, I was sitting in an office, being told I had a chronic illness.
It took me a long time to find out what it was and years to find out what it meant to me as a gay man.
I live with Familial Adenomatous Polyposis (FAP). Small wart-like lumps grow on the colon and lining of the rectum.
When they did the colonoscopy, they told me that I would need to remove my colon and, at the age of 13, they removed it.
They started removing the lining of my rectum when I was 17 and I was wondering what it meant to me. I was not “out”. I spent many years between surgeries trying to understand what it meant to be gay and accept it.
I remember talking to my mother and being referred to the stoma nurse, who told me that if I were gay, I would never be able to hit rock bottom when it came to anal sex. If I did, I would bleed and possibly die, as this would dislodge the stitches that attach the small intestine to what is left of the rectum.
I was impressed in that office, sitting in a hard-backed chair. I really couldn’t understand what that meant. I had never slept with a boy before, nor had I ever kissed one.
The choice was taken from me, so I will never really know what my sexual preferences would be, but there is a strong part of me that believes that I would be versatile.
I would have liked to experience all aspects of sex and sexuality, but my illness has complications. When I talked to guys about apps in the past, they asked me about my position and I was always honest about it, but talking about why I can only be a top is a subject that I have been bothering to discuss.
Some guys see it as a challenge, as an opportunity to drop me down, which I find scary.
The surgeries were not without scars and after my second surgery, I had a scar that extended from my navel to below my waist. The wound became infected and, when it healed, it formed a fascia (when the scar tissue heals over the skin).
It wasn’t easy to look in the mirror, much less lie down next to another guy. Even sleeping next to my boyfriend for a year, I didn’t like it when he touched me and if he came close to the scar, I would slap him in the hand.
We dozed off together, but I woke up early in the morning, kind of groggy. My boxer looked heavy and when I pulled the covers off, I couldn’t believe it. I had a leak and it was everywhere.
There was no way to clean it, no way to make it better. It took me a while to wake him up, and when I did, I felt like a symptom. I felt like a disease that weighed on someone’s eyes.
I cleaned myself up as best I could. I didn’t speak to him – I couldn’t speak to him. I returned home, praying that the taxi driver would not comment on the smell.
I learned very young that I needed to listen to my body, to talk about my feelings.
There are times when I feel deprived of sexual experiences, but I remind myself that I am alive and, for all limitations, I am worthy.