So here’s a sentence you probably didn’t expect from a 6’4″ former rugby player:
“After you finish [sex], go ‘oh I need to get out of here. This is f*cking gross.’”
That’s Keegan Hirst — yes, that Keegan Hirst, the first British professional rugby league player to come out while still active — talking about his early experiences with men.
RELATED: ‘I Was Either Coming Out or Killing Myself’: Keegan Hirst Gets Candid
And no, he’s not being dramatic. He’s just being honest. In a recent episode of the All Out podcast with Jon Dean, Hirst did something more revolutionary than tackle a homophobe in cleats: he opened up about the weird, often disappointing, and painfully relatable parts of gay sex after coming out.
Turns out, the hardest part of being gay isn’t coming out — it’s learning how to actually enjoy being out.
Not All Hookups Are Created Equal
Like many of us, Hirst’s early same-sex encounters came with a side of self-loathing. They were secretive. Emotionally hollow. And worst of all?
“Transactional.”
Which is a polite way of saying: no eye contact, no cuddling, and definitely no lingering afterward. Just a quick, anxious exit, maybe via a side door.
“I was still dealing with internalized homophobia,” Hirst told Dean. “That probably took me years to get rid of, if I’ve got rid of it at all.”
Coming out didn’t suddenly switch off the shame. It just gave it a room with better lighting.
Welcome to Gay Club
Once he did come out, Hirst did what any self-respecting newly-out gay man would do: downloaded Grindr, hit the clubs, and tried to catch up on everything he’d missed during years in the closet and a straight marriage.
“It was a bit of a weird time, really,” he said. “It all seemed to have happened so fast.”
Can you blame him? A 6’4″ rugby lad shows up in a Leeds gay bar — that’s not a subtle entrance. According to Hirst, bouncers would stop him at the door and ask if he knew it was a gay bar. As if straight men just wander into Flares in a polo shirt and start slow dancing with twinks.
But for all the welcome attention, something was still missing.
“Freeing,” he said of those first months. “But not meaningful.”
He was finally doing what he wanted — having sex with men, being seen — but it didn’t feel good. Not emotionally. Not yet.
The Soda Bottle Theory of Gay Men
Here’s a metaphor for your next brunch table discussion: gay men who come out later in life are like soda bottles that have been shaken for years. Eventually the cap comes off and… fizz everywhere.
That’s how Hirst’s therapist described it. And honestly? It tracks.
There’s a reason so many late bloomers hit the scene hard. It’s not just fun — it’s science. That pent-up desire doesn’t evaporate. It erupts.
And sometimes, that means bad decisions with good-looking strangers.
Hirst admits he quickly jumped into a relationship after coming out — maybe too quickly. But it helped.
“I guess it got me out of the transactional sex stuff and the hookup stuff,” he said. “Which obviously has its place, but I guess when you’re coming to terms with your sexuality and trying to kind of be okay with who you are,” hookups can feel “dehumanizing.”
(Translation: Grindr is fine, but it won’t fix your gay trauma.)
“You’re Literally Someone’s Fantasy”
Here’s where things take a turn — because fame, muscles, and a freshly-out storyline? That’s gay bait if we’ve ever seen it.
“Once I’d come out publicly, I remember my mate saying to me, ‘You are literally someone’s fantasy, like a p*rn search.’”
For a while, Hirst was into it.
“I remember saying, ‘I don’t give a f*ck. If I’m getting laid, everybody’s a winner.’”
But, of course, real life isn’t that easy. What started out as validation eventually started to feel…off.
“It did become apparent that some people wanted to sleep with me to brag about it. I remember saying, ‘I’m not a piece of meat, you know. There’s more to me than that.’”
And there is. Like the fact that he’s also a dad. A real one, not just the kind you find in Berlin with a harness and a Bluetooth speaker.
“I’m a man with two young children, and I can’t just go off and be a party boy.”
From Clueless to Coaching
These days, Hirst isn’t just living out some late-bloomer revenge arc. He’s actually helping other gay men navigate theirs. He now works as a life coach for queer men, offering support in everything from fitness and self-esteem to mental health.
Because once you’ve walked the walk — through shame, divorce, Grindr, club doors with skeptical bouncers, and sex that leaves you feeling empty — you kind of want to make sure other guys don’t have to white-knuckle their way through the same.
Hirst’s whole message is simple: sex should feel good. You should feel good. And wanting more than a quick thrill doesn’t make you needy — it makes you human.
The Takeaway
Keegan Hirst didn’t just come out. He came undone. He got messy, got laid, got objectified, got lost, and eventually got real. And in a culture that loves the glow-up but skips the in-between, that kind of honesty is rare.
So, no, he didn’t immediately enjoy sex with men. But that’s not failure — it’s the first step in a story many of us know too well.
It takes time to go from “this is f*cking gross” to “this is who I am.” But that time? It’s worth it.
And for the record, being someone’s fantasy isn’t bad — as long as you get to define the story.
Interesting that there is no mention of his long-term partner, Joel Wood, or their podcast, Happy Healthy Homo. .
A very thoughtful article. He sounds a good role model.
Please don’t just treat people like they are your fantasy; treat them like human beings as well.
Unless they’re into that, if so, carry on.
Hi ty for your story Keegan my name is con I’m 62 year old queer who’s come out late in life just starting to enjoy gay sex more via saunas