“Why am I doing this to myself?” is something I mumble every time I stand naked while a makeup artist paints over the pimples on my ass. After writing and starring in my autobiographical Netflix show Special and now, Peacock’s reboot of Queer as Folk– two TV shows with a lot of sex – this happens more often than you might think. Why am I so obsessed with gay sex? Why do I feel the need to undress in front of a room full of strangers? Why did I write a sex scene where I am fake penetrated by a literal model? These are the kinds of questions that run through my mind while I’m filming a sex scene. And it’s not just the medium of television that is being terrorized by my gay smut. My debut novel, Just by looking at him, opens with the line, “My friend Gus has a nice penis.” And then proceeds to describe the beautiful penis in graphic detail.
Here’s how I can understand it: I write things that will work as a balm for a younger version of me. When I wrote a scene in season 2 of Special where my boyfriend shits on me during intercourse (may I write that sentence in TIME?), I was writing that scene for the 17-year-old me, who lost his virginity and actually shits with his boyfriend in the process. (Oh no. TIME tries to escort me off the premises.) Hurtfully, I tried Googling “anal sex accident,” but it was 2004 — the era of Ask Jeeves — and Jeeves couldn’t or wouldn’t go there. I remember thinking there was something wrong with me, maybe it had to do with my cerebral palsy and not being able to have sex like the rest of my healthy peers. There was no literature, no TV or movies to watch. I had to sit with that shame and fear. I ended up not having sex for a decade, in part because I was afraid of what would happen next. I now know that such accidents are common and that it has nothing to do with your physical abilities. But I wish I had known that sooner. If I did, I might not have spent 10 years celibate and now, at 35, I feel like I’m constantly catching up.
Ryan O’Connell as Ryan Hayes and Max Jenkins as Tanner in ‘Special’.
Netflix
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Representation is important. Groundbreaking, I know. But especially with gay sex – an act that has either been heavily eroded in TV and film, or has been removed altogether. Watching call me by your name in 2017, I felt a sense of betrayal as the camera turned to a tree as the characters of Armie Hammer and Timothée Chalamet finally consummated their relationship. It was cowardly – the ultimate copout. The whole movie was based on their queer desire. And now we must not see that desire acted upon! But, oh, can we see Timothée having sex with a girl and a literal peach in the same movie? homophobic. In a movie that should have been made for us, by a gay director. The call comes from within! Or, in this case, an Italian villa.
Read more: How Queer as Folk Became the defining gay TV show of a generation – twice
I already knew I wanted to discover gay sex in Special but call me by your name lit a fire. There would be no sliding to a tree. You would see everything: the good, the bad, the poop. I was also determined to have a healthier relationship with my body. If you are born disabled, society will castrate you immediately. You are not seen as sexually viable. If you have wishes, they will go unfulfilled. I’ve spent most of my life trying to reattach my penis and feel sexually desirable. I wanted the sex scenes in it Special to act as a guide for younger gay youth diving into the murky waters of gay sex, but it was also a way for me to tell the world: I won’t be erased. You will have to look at my body. You’ll have to look at my scars. You’ll have to look at my normal stomach. And you’ll have to wonder why this is so revolutionary to watch. Because it’s not allowed. My body is not revolutionary. It’s just a body.
When we held early screenings for: Special, the audience shared their discomfort and concern for my character, Ryan, as he prepares to lose his virginity. They thought something bad was going to happen to him, that some kind of humiliation was just around the corner. There wasn’t. It was an encouraging and joyful experience for Ryan, but I found their fears fascinating and ultimately depressing. The fact that they couldn’t fathom a scene where a person with a disability has agency is why the sex scene had to exist in the first place. It should not be groundbreaking for a disabled person to have a positive sexual experience.
And yet it is. Therefore, na Special ended, gay sex became a muse of mine and is still being explored in the Queer as Folk Restart. In fact, my character, Julian, has sex with TWO guys in one night. (After eating fritters. Really tempting fate there.)
Devin Way as Brodie and Johnny Sibilly as Noah in “Queer as Folk.”
Peacock
It still amazes me how puritanical people can be about sex. I’ve read some early reviews of my novel and so many of them have mentions of the “candid” portrayal of gay sex. “Not for everyone!” people say. “Too graphic for me,” wrote one review. It is sad that in this age of literal hell people are so afraid of images of pleasure. Because gay or not, that’s really what I’m showing: people who find themselves – and sometimes lose themselves – through sex. People who put on masks and try to take them off with their partners. They strive for intimacy. Link. Luck. Something we are all hungry for and can identify with. And that’s why I’ll keep coming back to sex in my work. It goes to the root of what makes storytelling so powerful: it’s personal and specific (“Will I have an accident with/on my partner?”), which makes it universal (“I hope this person can see and accept me for who I’m”).
The whole point of making things for me is to make people feel less alone, less different, and less stigmatized. I’m sure of one thing: sex is a great way to do that. And that’s why I’ll never stop getting naked and having fake sex on TV, even if it’s humiliating to have someone cover the pimples on your ass. Seriously. Would not recommend.
Ryan O’Connell is a two-time Emmy® Award-nominated writer, producer and actor. O’Connell’s debut novel Just by looking at him was published on June 7, 2022 by Atria, an imprint of Simon & Schuster. O’Connell is currently starring in Peacock’s reinvention of Russell T. Davies groundbreaking original series Queer as Folk, where he is also a writer and executive producer. O’Connell is best known for his groundbreaking Netflix series, Specialthat became a cultural phenomenon, receiving four Emmy® Award nominations and a WGA Award.
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