I read this long read about steroid use in young men last week and it made me burst into tears. I don’t cry very often (and to be honest I am suspicious of people who publicise the fact that they cry all the time, it seems so crudely manipulative) and I don’t take steroids. The explosion in steroid use sort of has nothing to do with me. But there is something in it that feels familiar.
It is a very well reported piece, with detail about the effects of steroid use on the body and how dangerous they can be. Much about steroids is not well understood, but they seem to cause depression and long term negative effects on testosterone production. And, as with any substance you put into your body, even the fact that there is lots about steroids which is not well understood seems dangerous. It made me think of resistance to taking the COVID vaccine. I wonder how many people who felt that way use steroids? I’m not interested in this as a gotcha or an example of hypocrisy. I think you could probably find examples like this for everyone. But I think it does underscore the dedication to taking steroids these men have.
Even though research into steroid use is patchy the people interviewed for the piece generally do understand that taking steroids fucks with your body, your sex drive, and your mind. At least temporarily but probably long term. It is interesting to me that they do it anyway, and also very sad.
The thing that made me cry was this passage:
Many of the young men I spoke to felt surrounded by signals that a muscular body was what they needed. They had noticed that celebrities, from movie stars to the sexed-up randos on reality shows such as Love Island, had got more muscular, though no one I talked to wanted to emulate a movie star exactly, let alone go on reality TV. The idea that “muscles get you girls” came up often, although most men I spoke to acknowledged that only a small subset of women prefer a mammothly muscular body.
Basically, they say they take steroids to get girls, but they all know most women don’t even like the effects of steroids. I thought: You don’t even know why you are doing this.
Why did that make me cry? I saw it as an example of that search for some hard to define better version of the self, which is so human and so raw. And I saw it as an example of how that search is so corruptible.
What do you want? To be loved. Which gets twisted into being adored by women. And then on Instagram that looks like a certain person or a certain body and then that becomes about getting that body and then that becomes about steroids and that becomes what you are trying to get which is not even what you want.
Trying to get something you don’t want is how you start a journey which will never be over. And yes we can put capitalism down here. And never feeling good enough. Or is it capitalism? Or human nature? Capitalism didn’t come from nowhere.
Then I thought: I should write about that impulse. But then I remembered I already wrote a novel about it. And I keep writing short stories about it too. Probably all my essays are about that as well. I’ll probably write 10 novels about it and never manage to get it quite right. A reason to keep writing I guess. Maybe this is my steroids.
(God I hate the issues novel thing in publishing at the minute. The way you’re supposed to be able to say “oh my novel is a campus novel about the crippling cost of student debt” or “my novel is about being in a thrupple” or something. Am I allowed to say I think all that stuff is less interesting and less of an “issue” than human nature anyway? Am I allowed to say I think this stuff is making us all stupider?)
Anyway then I sent my friend Stephen, who wrote the steroids piece, a message saying it was really good and we spoke about that for a while. One of the other striking details from the piece, which strangely I also found sad, came from a man who spoke on behalf of needle exchanges:
Over that time he has seen the same shift that other needle exchanges around the country have reported: “Then, it was 70% heroin and crack users, 30% steroids. Now, it’s flipped entirely around.”
Stephen told me one of the details that got left out of the piece was that the next biggest growing population at the needle exchange is young women doing illegal botox and fillers. As he put it: “All these semi medical problems to amorphous problems and anxieties.”
That nearly made me cry again. Another example of the same thing.
What do you want? To be loved. Which gets twisted into being beautiful. And then on Instagram that looks like a certain person or a certain body and then that becomes about the body and then that becomes about botox and fillers and that becomes what you are trying to get which is not even what you want.
Even the heroin detail made me sad. That is probably a bad thing to say because steroids are probably safer. But at least people used to put themselves at risk to seek pleasure and joy explicitly. This stuff seems more convoluted to me. I don’t know. It did make me sad though.
Maybe I just feel more familiar with traditional addiction. When you have been a party person for your entire adult life, and some of your child life, you end up knowing a lot of people in recovery. (Also probably because, in any given environment, I always get on better with all the weirdos. Sorry if you are reading this and you are my friend but ask yourself: Are you normal?)
I actually only realised this recently, when I was doing this silent retreat and (when we could speak during the intro) one of the other attendees pointed out all the flavoured teas on offer in the kitchen.
It’s like an alcoholic’s cupboard in there. I said. All we need is some fizzy drinks.
What do you mean? He said.
You know they're always drinking all the flavoured drinks.
I didn’t know that. He said, laughing. Do you know a lot of alcoholics?
I thought for a few seconds. Yeah I guess so. I said.
One of the saddest things about addiction is that, if you know addicts, they are some of the most beautiful, interesting, funniest people and they just hate themselves. So it is with steroids too, probably. I sort of wish I could hug all the steroids men and tell them they’re big enough and strong enough already.
A few days after the steroids article I read one of those stupid short stories which are all over the place at present, written in a flat and boring voice, about how everyone is cold and brutal to each other and asks to be called a dog during sex because they feel nothing, they feel numb, and the like. (Do not blame Bret Easton Ellis for this, this is not what his work did or is doing.)
None of the characters (if we would call them that) in these stories care about anybody else or themselves or feel anything. This is the easiest kind of fiction to write, not only because the actual writing itself is so bland and standardised. But also because the author has not thought about, or tried to express, human nature in any way.
Whenever I read one of these stories I always think: I bet the author of this has never missed a deadline, failed an exam, done drugs for fun and not just to have done them, gone to a party that wasn’t work related, possibly never even had sex, definitely never asked to be called a dog during sex. I bet they have never done anything weird or awful in their life at all. Even in the boy-scout-ish environment of an MFA program this person probably stands out for their prefect like tendencies. I can tell they have a straightforward relationship with all their family members. It is clear that whenever they go to any event they look for the most professionally advantageous person in the room and then spend all night sucking up to them. Because people who write this stuff plainly have no knowledge of, and take no interest in, the mangled, messy side of life at all. Why else would they write it as an emotional and spiritual nothingness?
After I read this one I thought: I wish it really was like that. It would be easier. It would actually be easier. But nobody does any of these things, hurts themselves, because they feel nothing. I think the opposite is true.
Till next time xxxxx
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