I am single and would like to only have meaningful sex, with meaningful partners, with whom there would clearly be a future possibility. But sometimes I am needy, sometimes I am horny, sometimes I am carnal -- well, often I am carnal -- and I try my best to navigate between being an extremely sexual being and being constructive and safe. I defend my right to sexual experimentation -- though, until recently, I never dreamed of defending it publicly. I remember, years ago, going to a leather bar in New York, and first making the connection that the most creative, interesting, edgy guys were often attracted to fringe sex. The emotions that touch highs and lows, the acting out of issues of control or power, the intensity of need, the creative acting out that spilled over into sex: No one should have to apologize for wanting to explore all that.

But I remember my own moment of fear and shock when I sent a picture online to someone on AOL, and I saw the following words appear in an instant message on my screen: "Didn't you just do an article in Vanity Fair?" My picture had recently run in the contributors section of the magazine. It was my first, sudden realization that I could be fair game for sexual behavior that diverges from vanilla, and looks nasty in print, the painful realization that Sullivan had forced on him thanks to this scandal.

Ehrenstein doesn't see the issue as "outing" because Sullivan was operating, even if anonymously, on the Internet, which he sees as public. "When you are going to put something out there in public space, is it private?" asks the author. "He is asking the world to come to his door. You go and find out who he is. People followed up the ads and found out it was him." That Sullivan is a public figure who has spoken out on the issues involved also makes him "fair game. He has opened the door. What are you going to do? Are you just going to ignore this?"

But if Sullivan is fair game, so are we all. Sullivan is now being tortured, but we are all at risk.

I actually believe Ehrenstein and Signorile went after Sullivan for reasons of principle. They are sincerely offended by what they see as Sullivan's passing judgment on gays who differ from him, especially his nasty attacks on gay leftists. Signorile writes:

In a particularly gratuitous slam, Sullivan only a few weeks ago on his Web site described San Francisco's gay community as "frozen in time," unlike gays in the rest of the U.S. who are "increasingly suburban, mainstream, assimilable.

"Here in the belly of the beast," he wrote in a swipe, "Village People look-alikes predominate, and sex is still central to the culture," as if his own ... web page doesn't evoke these very same stereotypes.

In his Internet rebuttal, Sullivan maintained that he only had sex with HIV-positive partners, and that the sex was consensual and outlined in advance. He chose to advertise on a graphic Web site because it efficiently telegraphed his particular sexual taste. He admits that he was naive when he was functioning sexually online, not suspecting that his private sexual behavior -- which did not involve matters of state, security or governance -- could become grist for public consumption.

Writing about my own online sexual activities, in solidarity with Sullivan, I cringe slightly. It's not something I would like my mother to read. But I don't assume that Andrew Sullivan wanted his boss, his friends, his family to read about his intimate sexual details. But he didn't have a choice.

Musto insists there is a difference between Sullivan and other gays looking for sex online. "We all have our own sexual secrets. This case only happened to be reportable because of sexual hypocrisy."

But I disagree. Sullivan was right when he insisted, in the closing line of what he says is his final word on the subject: "It is none of your business."

Recent Stories