The long weekend is over. The strobes are no longer flashing, the music has stopped, and your phone battery isn’t the only thing drained. Gay depression has hit. For many gay men in Sydney and Melbourne, these long weekend parties bring a much-needed celebration—a chance to dance, connect, flirt, escape. But as Tuesday dawns, a different mood sets in.
Some find themselves lying in bed with a foggy head, scrolling through messages they wish they hadn’t sent. Others feel a wave of emptiness roll in, or a sharp stab of regret. There may have been drugs, sex, fights, infidelity, or simply the ache of knowing that even among friends and bodies, you felt alone.
If this sounds familiar, you’re not the only one.
The Emotional Aftermath of a Big Party Weekend
The post-party crash isn’t just physical. There can be a come-down in mood, self-esteem, and a sense of purpose. After intense connection—or the performance of it—what’s left is often disconnection and depression. For some, it’s a moment of reckoning. Thoughts like:
- “Why do I always end up feeling lonely as a gay man?”
- “I need to change something.”
- “I don’t like who I become on weekends like this.”
These moments can feel shameful, but they can also be invitations. Invitations to check in with yourself. To listen closely. To look beneath the surface of what the weekend stirred up.

Gay Depression vs Performance
Gay culture often places heavy emphasis on youth, beauty, charisma, and stamina. Long weekends like this one shine a light on those pressures. Whether it’s the perfect party outfit, the sculpted body, the flirt game, or the curated social media reel, many of us show up with a version of ourselves we think will be accepted.
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But what happens when that version begins to feel hollow? And when the curated self feels distant from the real one? Many men I speak with describe feeling like they’re “on stage” at these events—performing vitality, joy, sex appeal—while privately battling anxiety, comparison, or a nagging sense of not being enough. It’s what some call ‘gay depression’.
Gay men are not broken by nature. They are wounded by experience. And from those wounds, many develop exquisite sensitivities—to feeling, to nuance, to the sufferings of others—that become defining strengths when acknowledged rather than hidden.
— Walt Odets ‘Out of the Shadows’
Bodies, Substances, and Burnout
The pursuit of a certain kind of body—often lean, muscular, smooth—can lead to intense gym regimens, restrictive diets, steroids, SARMs, or other enhancers. While some feel empowered by their transformations, others speak of dependence, or of using appearance to outrun deeper insecurities.
Then there are the recreationals. For some, party drugs are part of the scene, used to connect, relax, or enhance pleasure. But for others, they become a mask—a way to quiet self-doubt or loneliness. For many, ice / meth and chemsex is associated with a sense of belonging. But the post-drug crash can bring with it feelings of sadness, confusion, or even despair. The sex might have been a blur. So Tuesday brings health anxiety about STIs or Mpox.
“This Isn’t Who I Want to Be”
I often hear these words spoken softly in the therapy room after a big weekend. Not with judgment, but with pain. So when your actions aren’t aligning with your deeper values, the dissonance hurts. Yet, naming that pain is also a step toward clarity. It’s the beginning of reconnection—with yourself, your needs, your hopes.

Moving from Shame to Self-Understanding
Shame says, “I’m bad.” But what if your weekend behaviour isn’t evidence of that? What if it’s a sign that some part of you is aching—for connection, affirmation, relief?
In therapy, we gently explore these parts. We trace stories, find out what you’ve been carrying, what you’re trying to protect. You might discover that your patterns make sense, given what you’ve been through. Gay depression: It’s not a reason to stay stuck—it’s a reason to be kind to yourself as you move forward.
What Might Healing Look Like?
Healing doesn’t mean you stop going out. It doesn’t mean rejecting sex, fun, or the people you love. But it might mean:
- Noticing when you’re performing instead of being
- Taking breaks from social media comparison
- Having an honest conversation with yourself about chemsex, other recreational substances or sex
- Reconnecting with what actually nourishes you
- Talking to someone – like a psychologist or mental health therapist -who gets it.
You don’t have to figure this out alone.

Let’s Talk about Gay Depression
If the weekend left you feeling disoriented or disheartened, there’s space to make sense of it. I’m a sex positive therapist who works with gay men across Sydney—and beyond—who are ready to unpack their patterns, reclaim their wellbeing, and reconnect with themselves in deeper, more compassionate ways.
The real you doesn’t need to perform.
He needs to be heard.
Book a session today to begin the conversation.

