Not in the circle, hard to raise funds? Unveiling the "masculine" power map of Silicon Valley's venture capital scene

This is a group characterized by “a hunger for power, network-driven, sometimes even extremely hungry.”

Author: WIRED

Translation: Deep潮 TechFlow

Deep潮 Guide: In recent years, rumors about the “Gay Tech Mafia” ruling Silicon Valley have evolved from whispers on Twitter to industry “common knowledge.” From Peter Thiel to Sam Altman, and the controversy over YC President Garry Tan’s sauna photos, this subculture blending identity politics, power rent-seeking, and financial resources is sparking intense discussion.

This article conducts an in-depth investigation into the social circles of gay elites at the top of Silicon Valley’s power structure, exploring whether this is a struggle of a marginalized group or a new exclusive privilege system. Under the AI wave, funding is no longer just about code; being part of this “hidden network” has become a hot topic of power gossip in Silicon Valley.

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No one can say for sure when (or if) gay men began to dominate Silicon Valley. Over the past five years or more, they seem to have already occupied senior industry positions. Clues are everywhere on platforms like X (formerly Twitter): whispers about private island vacations, tech executives pretending to come out to “ride the influence,” and even hints that “seed rounds” are not strictly a financial term. In fact, this idea has become so naturalized that when I called a well-connected hedge fund manager to ask about the so-called “Gay Tech Mafia,” he yawned on the other end. “Of course,” he said, “it’s always been like that.”

This hedge fund manager said that the situation has been the same since 2012. At that time, he was raising funds from a venture capitalist whose office employed dozens of “charming, strong young men,” all “under 30,” looking like they had just stepped out of a “high school debate club.” “They all sleep with each other and start companies together,” he said. He added that the current situation is definitely the same: gay men run influential Silicon Valley companies and maintain a social calendar almost devoid of straight men, let alone women. “Of course the Gay Tech Mafia exists,” he continued, “this isn’t some Illuminati conspiracy theory. And you don’t have to be gay to join—they even prefer straight guys they sleep with.”

Since I started reporting on Silicon Valley in 2017, I’ve heard various versions of this rumor—like Emmett Chen-Ran, an AI founder, joking, “Gays run this place.” On the surface, “Gay Tech Mafia” seems too stupid to warrant serious investigation. Of course, there are gay high-level figures: Peter Thiel, Tim Cook, Sam Altman, Keith Rabois, and many more. But the idea that they are running some secret dark organization seems entirely rooted in homophobia, and allowing such notions to spread could play right into conspiracy-minded conservatives like Laura Loomer, who tweeted in 2024 that “the high-tech venture capital world looks like a giant, exploitative gay mafia.”

However, over time, this rumor hasn’t subsided but has instead evolved into a kind of widespread consensus. Last spring, at a venture capital party in Southern California, a middle-aged investor ranted at length about how difficult it was to raise a new fund. He explained that the core issue was discrimination. As he spoke, I sized him up: he was dressed in the stereotypical “uniform”—a white man with a buzz cut, wearing a tight, slightly bulging button-down shirt, confidently believing AI was the next big trend. He looked like the kind of guy Silicon Valley rewards. Yet he insisted the system was unfair to him. “If I were gay, I wouldn’t have any trouble,” he said. “That’s the state of Silicon Valley now. The only way to get ahead,” he claimed, “is if you’re gay.”

Throughout 2025, similar comments appeared frequently on X. Silicon Valley tech workers joked about offering “fragmented advisor services” to the “gay elite.” Some anonymous accounts hinted at an underground world of Silicon Valley gay power brokers influencing and grooming aspiring entrepreneurs. At an AI conference in Los Angeles, a developer casually referred to the office of a top AI company as “Twink Town” more than once.

By fall, the speculation escalated further. A photo surfaced on X showing a group of YC-backed founders near a sauna, with YC President Garry Tan nearby. The photo looked harmless: a few young, nerdy men in swimsuits squinting at the camera. But almost instantly, it sparked a viral gossip about the special intimacy in venture capital culture. Soon after, a founder from Germany, Joschua Sutee, posted a photo of himself and a male partner—apparently naked and wrapped in sheets—presumably submitted as part of a YC application, seemingly catering to an unspoken male erotic aesthetic. “I’m here, @ycombinator,” he captioned.

The idea that YC is “grooming” male entrepreneurs is unfounded—there are many reasons, especially one core fact. “Garry is a straight guy, very straight,” a person who knows Tan said. “But he does believe in the benefits of saunas.” When I asked Tan for comment, he candidly replied—some founders come for dinner and ask to use his recently installed sauna and cold plunge. Tan said that since then, some rejected YC applicants have started “creating this meme,” implying it’s more than just taking a bath.

Yet, these rumors persist and continue to ferment, originating both from outsiders (sometimes with suspicious political motives) and insiders. When I called industry insiders with long experience, they not only knew the term “Gay Tech Mafia” but also had very specific knowledge of how it operates. These are trusted figures across sectors, yet they believe in some seemingly incredible things.

A San Francisco investor told me he believes the Thiel Fellowship is actually a training ground for cultivating gay leaders in the industry. (When I relayed this idea to several former Thiel Fellows, they told me they only met Peter Thiel once at a dinner, and he looked “a bit bored,” one straight male recipient said, “I mean, I hope Peter was trying to ‘groom’ me.”)

Meanwhile, the “Gaydars” are almost overheated. I’ve heard it more than once: in Silicon Valley, anyone who achieves extraordinary success is probably gay.

A venture capitalist based in San Francisco pondered whether a young, successful defense tech executive was gay, given his achievements at a relatively young age. “Isn’t he gay?” the VC asked. “He must be.” I told him he was mistaken—that the executive was married to a woman. “Of course,” he replied, “but have you seen them together?”

Another entrepreneur who raised funds from two well-known gay investors told me he’s used to dealing with questions about his sexuality. “People say I’m gay,” he said, “there are always jokes like, ‘Bro, how did you get that money?’”

Then, some anonymous X accounts keep amplifying allegations of misconduct. Their posts are carefully crafted to attract attention: detailed enough to suggest inside knowledge of Silicon Valley, yet vague enough to fuel darker interpretations. I took the bait, and in late November, spent an hour texting with one account holder via Signal, who only agreed to talk if I promised strict confidentiality of his identity.

This person described Silicon Valley as a place famous for “gay sex stuff, driven by ecstasy and psychedelics.” Has he personally experienced it? No. But he knows people who have—those people are “very scared” and “extremely young.” He refused to reveal his name or connect me with anyone, but swore that all the negative rumors I’d heard about gay men in Silicon Valley are true. He hinted at a conspiracy large enough to rival QAnon, even involving the U.S. government. He gave me a vague tip: “It should be easy to find. It’s the kind of thing you can Google on the second page.”

Finally, because he was evasive, I asked what would happen if he told me everything he knew.

“I believe,” he said, “I’d get killed.”

Then he offered a suggestion. The only way to expose this heavy story is “to do it in the style of Project Veritas: find a 20-year-old kid, create a Twitter account, send him to the ‘right’ places in San Francisco. If you dig deep enough, you can blow this story wide open.”

The problem with conspiracy theories is— even the most repulsive ones—rarely entirely fabricated. They almost always stem from fragments of truth, twisted by imagination. The difficulty with this particular rumor is that, although I cannot verify the darker allegations, some parts still resonate. In conversations with 51 people (including 31 gay men, many influential investors and entrepreneurs), a picture emerges of a complex, layered, often contradictory landscape of gay power in Silicon Valley. It’s a world where power, desire, and ambition intertwine visibly and invisibly, richer and more complicated than the rumors themselves suggest.

Most of those who agreed to be interviewed for this story did so anonymously. Some were just cautious. “It might not be wise for me to describe these parties to a journalist,” one said, “because people might think: ‘Wow, why did we invite you?’” Others were more vague: “Discussing these details isn’t very safe,” said a founder working in AI, “anyone involved might be a manipulator or a VC, which could make people suspicious of who’s gaining an advantage.” But amid these hesitations and whispers, there’s an undeniable fact: gay men are rising.

“Gay men in tech have achieved great success,” a gay angel investor told me. “There’s a group of gay founders who always hang out together because gay men always stick together. That’s why they become friends and vacation together.” More importantly: “They support each other, whether it’s hiring someone, angel investing, or leading rounds.”

Some of these networks are already becoming public. A Substack called Friend Of, written by Jack Randall, a former PR person at Robinhood, documents how gay men have ascended to power. “We run the tech mafia” (see Apple, OpenAI), Randall writes, “we hold high government positions (see Treasury Secretary). We host prime-time news and New Year’s countdowns. Our dating app stocks outperform hetero competitors. In America, gay men are generally more educated and wealthier than the average.”

A new company called Sector aims to formalize this network. Founded by Brian Tran, a former designer at Kleiner Perkins, its website features photos of handsome men on beaches and at dim dinner parties. A member described it as a curated social network where successful gay men meet with shared interests. “It’s up to you,” he said, “whether it’s professional, purely platonic, or romantic.” In an interview with Randall, Tran said, “I think in the next few years we could replace Grindr.”

In San Francisco, weekly invitations from Partiful circulate in the community. “For a typical Halloween party, gay men will have their own Halloween event, and Sam Altman will be there,” said Jayden Clark, a straight host of a tech culture podcast, though he wasn’t invited to the gay Halloween party. (Altman attended dressed as Spider-Man, a nod to Andrew Garfield, who played the role in the movies and is cast to play Altman in an upcoming biopic.) I heard of not just one but two gay tech parties themed after The White Lotus, both equally lavish. “Women are not there,” said the investor. “They just aren’t.” There’s also a “Gay VC Mafia” chat group, which one member described as “60% business” and “40% joking about classic gay topics.” As more tech events for gay men emerge, social incentives rapidly stack up. Relationships blur—like one AI founder said, “sometimes it’s professional, sometimes physical, sometimes romantic.” He added that the bubble’s allure is so strong that “socializing with straight men becomes a tough battle.”

In Silicon Valley’s culture of social circles, none of this is entirely unfamiliar. The wealthy and successful tend to form insular groups. There’s the so-called “OpenAI Mafia” and “Airbnb Mafia,” and before that, the “PayPal Mafia”—alumni from star companies funding the next wave of startups. So what appears to be privilege is often structural and unremarkable upon closer inspection. San Francisco combines two things at high density: one of the largest gay communities in the U.S., and a tech industry reshaping global power. “It’s certain that gay men are overrepresented in the Bay Area, and they’ve had an incredible golden era,” said Mark, a gay entrepreneur in AI. “In a city with the world’s densest venture capital, it’s not surprising that the money flows directly to gay men.” (Notably, this perception contradicts data: from 2000 to 2022, only 0.5% of venture capital went to LGBTQ+ founders.) “It’s not that there’s some kind of gay mafia,” Mark continued, “but if I had to say who I’d invest in, they happen to be gay. Who are the ones with no kids, working desperately on weekends? Gay men.” (All names used are pseudonyms.)

Imagine, Mark said: you’re a young, nerdy, not-out gay man. You’ve never really fit in growing up. Your parents start asking: why don’t you have a girlfriend? You tell them you’re too busy to date. Eventually, you move to San Francisco, which some say is like “Disneyland for gay men.” Your world opens up. You meet others like you—those who are out for the first time in their lives. Many work at influential companies. They’re building amazing tech. You slowly realize: maybe you—long overlooked and underestimated—can also achieve greatness. “Gay men feel,” Mark said, “that they have something to prove.”

Throughout history, the flow of power and money in networks has been similar. The gay network seems naturally aligned with the dynamics of venture capital—where wealth and emerging talent collide. “The key point to recognize,” said a senior gay VC, “is that gay men are different from heterosexuals in many ways.” He explained, “Gay men are intergenerational.” While heterosexuals tend to stick with their peers, “that’s not true for gay men. I can chat with an 18-year-old at an event, and Peter Thiel might be there too.”

Just because you’re gay and work in tech doesn’t mean you’re part of the so-called “Gay Tech Mafia.” Many LGBTQ+ members (the queer spectrum) are noticeably absent from activities targeting gay founders. “There are barriers within the community,” said Danny Gray, leader of LGBTQ+ workplace social organization Out Professionals. “Cis gay men are the largest group in this acronym, and other letters (L, B, T, etc.) find it much harder to get in.” Lesbians are often marginalized; when I asked veteran tech journalist Kara Swisher about the “Gay Tech Mafia,” she said she’d never heard of such an organization. And even if you’re gay, acceptance isn’t guaranteed. “I find it hard to break into that group myself,” a gay investor told me. “I might need to lose 20 pounds first.”

Perhaps the perception of a “Gay Tech Mafia” isn’t about all gay men in tech, or even all gay men broadly, but a small, self-selected group with shared political views and aesthetic tastes. They’re believed to admire aesthetics and muscular male physiques, disdain identity politics, reject DEI initiatives, and instead support MEI—“Merit, Excellence, and Intelligence.” Their political stance leans right, even with MAGA undertones. I’ve heard straight entrepreneurs describe it as a “Greco-Roman gay culture,” a “closed, hyper-masculine” scene where “women are seen as completely unnecessary.” (A woman who worked for a gay Republican entrepreneur said, “The misogyny is about the same as in other circles, but without sexual harassment. So it’s not bad.”)

So, where do these all-powerful “power gay men” naturally hang out? That’s one of my core questions, but the answer always eludes me. When I asked a gay investor if I could be a “fly on the wall” at these parties, he refused, saying it would be awkward—because, sadly for this story, I am a woman. “People ask, ‘Is that your sister?’” he said. I even suggested to an editor that I dress as a man to attend. I proposed we discuss my “costume budget.” While the editor was somewhat interested, he offered another idea: have a gay man accompany me as a kind of chaperone, “for safety.” Since then, neither of us has brought it up again.

But one place is repeatedly mentioned: Barry’s, a gym that has become a sacred site for gay men, partly thanks to prominent investor Keith Rabois. He’s long been a devoted supporter, even occasionally teaching classes there. The Castro location of Barry’s is often cited: “Castro’s Barry’s is the best,” said the gay investor, “it’s full of men, all gay, and all with abs.” (“Based on my experience working there, gay men really love working out,” confirmed a female employee at Castro Barry’s.)

Most people seem eager to talk about it without much prompting. Many respond almost immediately to vague inquiries. Surprisingly, they’re willing to talk for hours, weaving together reflections on male-dominated culture with some of the most sensational industry secrets I’ve encountered. But these rumors carry a sharp edge—implying that one of Silicon Valley’s most reliable paths to power might run through bedrooms. Some men are eager to answer calls, asking if I’ve heard the latest gossip about them. One gay founder told me there’s a rumor (of which I’ve heard a version) that he and his husband slept with a gay investor to secure a down payment on a house. “Do people really think,” he wondered, “that we can’t afford an apartment?”

Many have been suspected of having affairs at some point, even if they’ve never been in the same room. When I called Ben Ling, an early Google employee and investor, I asked about long-standing rumors that he might be Tim Cook’s perfect match (even The Atlantic once joked about this pairing). He laughed. “People make up rumors because they’re bored,” he said. “Tim Cook doesn’t even know who I am.”

While some of these men have met and socialized in gay circles, these encounters don’t always lead to romance. Rabois’s friend told me Rabois likes to tell a story from years ago: he once invited Sam Altman as his plus-one to an event. “He said Sam brought two phones and was texting on both the whole time,” the friend said. “Keith said it was the worst date he ever had.” (The use of “date” here is still debated.)

For those who’ve built genuine friendships with powerful gay industry leaders, success sometimes comes at a cost: people assume it’s borrowed, not earned. Brad, a gay industry leader, has long been rumored to be friends with Peter Thiel—even during his rising career. “When I first started working with Peter, people would ask: ‘Oh, did you sleep with him?’” he said. He denied it. “But for some reason, everyone thinks that’s a natural question. Heterosexuals are usually interested, but what really fascinates others—especially gay men—is to wonder: ‘What does he have that I don’t?’” They assume, “Well, Peter must think you’re cute.” (Thiel did not respond to requests for comment.)

Nevertheless, if you believe that close relationships with power bring no benefits, that’s naive. When Altman’s ex-boyfriend, Stripe early employee Lachy Groom, raised a $250 million personal VC fund in his twenties, some observers said this achievement was more about access than talent. Groom had already launched two funds, the second with a target of $100 million. So, according to a gay investor close to Groom and Altman, this explanation isn’t entirely fair: “When Lachy and Sam dated, Sam was famous but not nearly as much as now, and Lachy is capable himself,” he said. “I did recommend him to an investor in Groom’s fund, saying: ‘Yes, he’s young and unproven as an investor, but he’s in this network, and he’s Sam’s ex.’” But Groom wasn’t dating Sam just to get these advantages. (Groom declined to comment; Altman’s representatives did as well.)

Meanwhile, when straight men try to infiltrate this gay network, gay investors discuss privately. Mark hosts dinners and events for gay men in tech in San Francisco. He noticed one man who RSVP’d repeatedly. “We don’t have a purity test,” he said, “but some say that guy isn’t gay at all—he just comes to get deal flow.” It’s not that straight men are excluded, but they’re not very welcome in the world of gay capital. If a straight founder does show up, the joke is: just don’t tell anyone you’re straight.

“I’ve seen straight men behave inappropriately,” said a gay investor. “There’s a not-well-known straight guy who pitches projects to all the gay investors. At a VC meeting, he was talking to a gay GP I know, and he actually put his hand on the GP’s leg under the table. That’s unprofessional. It’s become a long-running joke: don’t invite that guy again.”

One person has notably fueled the idea that “being gay helps career advancement”: Delian Asparouhov. He’s co-founder of Varda Space Industries, 31, mischievous, and once served as Rabois’s chief of staff. Rabois helped Thiel found PayPal and later became a partner at Thiel’s venture firm, Founders Fund, after some internal scrutiny. During his time at Square, Rabois was accused of sexual harassment by a male colleague, which led to his departure. (The company’s internal investigation supported him.)

In 2018, about 100 people attended Rabois and Jacob Helberg’s wedding. Jacob was a former Palantir advisor and now deputy secretary of state for economic growth. The wedding lasted days, with many top tech figures present, and Sam Altman officiated the seaside ceremony. (Apparently, Rabois’s awkward “date” with Altman turned into a deep friendship.)

During the wedding, Asparouhov gave a toast, later recalled by Fred, a senior gay tech leader present. “Delian said something like: ‘I was Keith’s intern when I worked at Square. I’d wear shorts and tank tops.’” Fred said he was sitting at a table with two famous tech execs. “We just raised our eyebrows,” Fred continued. “It was so awkward for Delian to say that at someone else’s wedding. I mean, Keith was marrying Jacob.” (Other guests said they don’t remember the speech but agree it sounds like Asparouhov’s style.)

Rumors about Asparouhov and Rabois’s private lives have circulated in industry circles for years, partly fueled by Asparouhov’s own online posts. (“Delian is like Gretchen Wieners from Mean Girls,” Fred explained.) In 2022, a well-known anonymous insider X account, Roon, tweeted, “Venture capitalists have reinvented the Greco-Roman pederasty system—this is crazy.” Asparouhov quickly replied: “Just a little gay, and I could work at a space factory today,” he wrote, “a pretty reasonable trade.” He now says that tweet was “obviously a joke.”

But as Fred noted, Asparouhov did join Square in 2012, known for neon tank tops, super-short shorts, and duck shoes. “He would jump around—very strange,” said someone who worked there. Others recall similar memories. Rabois co-founded OpenStore in Miami in 2021 (most of which closed last year). John, who visited the office, said, “It was almost like a harem—full of well-built white men, handsome, some straight, some gay. People wore inappropriate clothes: super short shorts and tight shirts, even with the AC blasting.” When I asked Rabois for comment, he denied it outright. “Clothing is very standard for Florida,” he said. “And I doubt that more than two of the 100+ employees could be reasonably called ‘jacked.’”

It’s well known that Rabois enjoys luxury vacations—helicopter trips to Iceland volcanoes, rafting in Costa Rica. Being excluded would trigger strong jealousy, as a young gay tech consultant I interviewed, who had started a “mini-survey” tracking the guys appearing on Rabois’s Instagram, told me. “They’re the ‘bottom tier,’” he said, “but they always post photos from St. Barts.” “I’m here on the A-line subway, scrolling my phone, thinking: ‘How come these guys can fly private?’”

But how far back do these rumors go? Has Silicon Valley always been a semi-public or semi-closed “gay community”? I was repeatedly told to contact Joel, a gay man who worked in tech and spent many years in the influential older gay circles of Silicon Valley. “So,” I asked when he answered my call, “are you a member of the Gay Tech Mafia?” He laughed. “Maybe some people think I am, so that’s why you called me.”

When I asked Joel how the Gay Tech Mafia operates, he told me it’s similar to those “who went to the same college, or have similar backgrounds, or come from the same town.” He said it started with people like Rabois and Thiel, who, after gaining power, “brought a lot of people. Keith hired gay men at Square, Peter hired Mike [Solana] at Founders Fund. Then there was a group of Google gay men led by Marissa Mayer in 2010. And Sam, who’s Keith’s friend, operates in parallel, gathering other gay men around him.”

Joel described the scene at those parties—details still not public. But overall, it’s pretty much what you’d expect. “There’s a lot of alcohol, then it turns into strange situations. Random people hook up. Usually with a sexual undertone.” But that was years ago. These types of parties, at least as I’ve heard, have either disappeared or gone underground. (“After you finish your story, you’ll find the real story isn’t that explosive,” Mark said. “Like those wild orgy parties—if you really find out where they are, let me know, because I want to go.”)

I told Joel I’d heard some young tech people feel forced to hook up everywhere to get ahead. Is that true? “Well…” he paused, then laughed. “I mean, there’s a weird gray area in all this. It can be very sexual. Not all professional. Many have dated or slept with each other.” He experienced a form of coercion. “I do feel pressure to do it—though not obviously illegal. They walk a fine line.” Now older, he understands why some might call it abuse of power, but he resists that label. The exchange of sex and status might not be the only reason for their rapid rise, but it can be a factor—like he said, sex “can make people get close quickly.”

As Silicon Valley matures into a global power hub, it’s become extraordinarily ruthless. Chips are scarce, ambitions often mixed with cold opportunism. In the gay circles, some see Silicon Valley as a kind of “casting couch” from Hollywood’s old days. Many critics are emerging gay entrepreneurs and investors who see parts of the gay community as still steeped in the attitudes and values of the 70s and 80s. “There’s this feeling,” one observer noted, “because of years of oppression that only recently got recognized, some think, ‘I can do this, or I deserve it, because no one will cancel me for it.’”

As one young gay investor described, this is a “power-hungry, network-driven, sometimes very hungry” group. He implied that arrangements are tacitly accepted: “Both sides know they’re playing a game and want to get something out of each other. I think if you like that, it’s fine.” He sees this as not the full picture of the gay tech scene, which is mostly a “lovely, amazing community supporting its members and their careers.” But beneath that, there’s a sexual undercurrent—something he insists is undeniable and especially evident in AI circles. “It’s like a gay nepotism thing,” he said. “Not explicitly for sex, but there’s that element at work. For example, you’re young and hot, and I want to sleep with you.”

A gay man named Dean described his experience in a career world full of sexual innuendos everywhere. Early on, these hints came from limited partners interested in his fund; after raising the fund, they came from founders seeking funding. Once, a potential LP suggested meeting at his house. “He said, ‘We don’t need clothes. We can sit in my hot tub and talk about your fund,’” Dean said. He called these encounters harassment—environmental, expected, and mostly harmless. “Sex is devalued in gay culture,” he said. “It’s just another form of currency.”

After raising his fund, some young men approached him—“founders willing to do anything to get the money.” At events for LGBT founders, young men ask for one-on-one drinks. Sometimes, they send nude photos on Instagram. “Like, send a ‘Hey…’ with a wink emoji. Then ask, ‘Do you like it?’” he said. He added that it’s not limited to Silicon Valley. After leaving tech for another industry, Dean began to see that sex, power, and ambition are recurring features in some gay professional circles.

Another queer tech worker told me: “As a queer person, building relationships in business and life involves a frankness that’s both sexual and non-sexual. You can turn that switch off and talk business with someone you just slept with yesterday.” He also said that, inevitably, gay culture tends to be sexualized. “Straight men have golf. Gay men have orgy parties,” he said. “That doesn’t mean it’s problematic. It’s voluntary, but it’s also a way we connect and bond.”

Out of the 31 gay men I interviewed for this story, nine told me they experienced unwanted advances from other gay men in the industry. Some were minor but annoying—repeated invitations to hot tubs or wine cellars. Others involved unwanted physical contact. One, an emerging gay investor, told me he believes refusing a senior colleague’s sexual hints cost him a job. Multiple sources mentioned unsolicited genital photos and overt seduction as common harassment.

“In San Francisco’s tech gay scene, what frustrates me is that none of this is exactly secret,” said one gay investor who experienced unwanted sexual advances. “People realize it’s a problem.” Another gay tech worker added: “There’s a warning component to this story. You have a great idea and an outstanding entrepreneur trying to make it in venture capital. Then they have to endure someone sending them explicit photos and asking for a meeting. It shouldn’t be normalized. But now, everything’s so blurred. It’s like, this is our little circle, our little world. But it has a huge impact.”

Gay men in tech keep asking me: why has this story never been written? To some extent, it’s a self-answering question. The unfair bias against gay men still exists—otherwise, why do insiders insist on anonymity? I’ve been warned repeatedly to be careful, that Silicon Valley figures are “vindictive.” Many believe this sexual pressure culture is part of Silicon Valley life, but as one person told me, writing about it is a “real minefield.”

Gerald understands that feeling. He’s a young gay man in San Francisco, described by acquaintances as an “eccentric individual” and “social manipulator.” During a call, Gerald explained why he hesitated to talk about his time in tech. “It’s a complicated topic,” he said. “I don’t think readers can distinguish between ‘some bad people are gay’ and ‘all gay people are bad.’ It’s easy to slide into homophobia.”

He hasn’t yet decided to tell his story. But he did tell me he suspects that in the coming months, more stories will surface. “People find it hard to articulate power dynamics delicately,” he said. “It’s not just one story. There will be many.” Based on what he’s told me so far, and everything I’ve heard—confessions in late-night calls; private, confidential insights; dozens of witty, talented, competitive young gay men admitting that their competition isn’t just for power, money, and recognition, but also love, romance, and a sense of belonging in the heart of San Francisco—I believe him.