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“I used to get so excited when the meth was all gone.” This is my friend Jeremy.“When you have it,” he says, “you have to keep using it.And there was Christian, the second guy I ever kissed, who killed himself at 32, two weeks after his boyfriend broke up with him.Christian went to a party store, rented a helium tank, started inhaling it, then texted his ex and told him to come over, to make sure he’d find the body.The first time we met, three years ago, he asked me if I knew a good place to do Cross Fit.Today, when I ask him how the hospital’s been so far, the first thing he says is that there’s no Wi-Fi, he’s way behind on work emails.

He is trim, intelligent, gluten-free, the kind of guy who wears a work shirt no matter what day of the week it is.As recently as my own adolescence, gay marriage was a distant aspiration, something newspapers still put in scare quotes.Now, it’s been enshrined in law by the Supreme Court.He won’t tell me the exact circumstances of the overdose, only that a stranger called an ambulance and he woke up here.Jeremy is not the friend I was expecting to have this conversation with.Still, even as we celebrate the scale and speed of this change, the rates of depression, loneliness and substance abuse in the gay community remain stuck in the same place they’ve been for decades.

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