NYSocBoy's Beefcake and Bonding

In a jaw-dropping development, The Middle, the most aggressively heterosexist tv program since Fringe, featured not one but two gay references in Wednesday night's episode.

In case you haven't noticed, the long-running series is about a dysfunctional working-class family in "The Middle," a small town in Indiana: dour dad Mike, perpetually-frazzled mom Frankie, college-aged Axl, over-exuberant high schooler Sue, and weird junior high schooler Brick.

In six seasons, there have been no references to gay people or same-sex desire or relationships, not one, except for an running gag about the swishy stereotype Brad, who doesn't realize that he's gay -- no one does except Mike and Frankie.

Wednesday night's episode, "Flirting with Disaster," had three plotlines.

1. Sue and Brick go to a science fiction convention. No gay content, but you do get to see the muscular Michael Foster, who has variously played Conan, a bouncer, a Muscle-Bound Writer, and a Gay Protester.

2. Mike's father-in-law Tag asks for help with his upcoming driver's test.

Mike: "When you see someone carrying a white cane, what does it mean?"
Tag: "That he's gay."
(Mike glares at him.)
Tag: "What? What do they want to be called now?"
Mike: "No, it means that he's blind!"
Tag: "Blind and gay? That's going to be tough!"

Ok, not bad. The elderly Tag comes across as slightly homophobic, but Mike doesn't.

3. Axl (Charlie McDermott, top photo), who I haven't been following much since he stopped hanging around in his underwear, comes home from college with a hot friend we've never heard of before, Finn (Matthew Atkinson, left).

Frankie flirts with him, and relishes her ability to attract Cute Young Things, until Axl tells her that Finn is "granny bait," often using his attractiveness to get special favors from elderly women.

Ok, it's not what you're thinking -- Axl means extra helpings of tater tots from the lunch lady.

Horrified at being labeled a "granny," Frankie decides that she'll go back to flirting with the elderly security guard at the bank: "At least she thinks I'm hot."

A throwaway line playing on our sexist presumption that security guards are always male. But it also reveals that there are indeed gay people in Orson, Indiana, that Frankie is aware of them, and that she is completely comfortable being the object of same-sex desire.

None of the kids were around during either of the scenes; they remain unaware of the existence of gay people. But two references in a single episode of a series that has thus far being utterly silent? Cause for celebration.

See also: Brock Ciarlelli, the Uncle Tom of The Middle; Axl in Underwear: The Middle.

In West Hollywood, relationships happened fast. After three dates, or hookup plus two dates, you were officially a couple, listed in address books together, invited to parties together, off-limits for cruising but available for "sharing."

But it was weird to be considered a couple after one hookup.

And even weirder to be invited to Australia.

I met the Carl the Australian Cowboy around Easter 1986: in his 30s, tall, slim, with a long face and a scruffy beard, wearing an incongruous plaid shirt and cowboy hatt. Not my type -- until he said "G'day!"

Australia was my childhood ideal of a "good place!"

He was a tour guide of some sort, just finishing up a two-week holiday that mostly involved camping at Yosemite National Park.

An outdoorsman -- definitely not my type! But I wasn't bringing Carl home, I was bringing home Ken James from Skippy the Bush Kangaroo, Dominic Guard from Picnic at Hanging Rock, and Troy, the Australian soccer player who took off his clothes in class....

We spent the night together, and the next day went to church and brunch at the French Quarter, and then he had to go to LAX to return his rental car and catch the flight back to Sydney.

As we were saying goodbye, Carl brought his face to my ear and whispered: "What about if I get another ticket, and bring you along?"

Thinking he was joking, I said, "Sure! Oh, wait -- I have a paper due next week!"

"When classes are out, then? I work in the industry -- you can fly for free."

He was serious! "Well -- I'm sort of committed to spending the summer in Japan with Alan."

"All the better. It's a short flight from Sydney to Tokyo. Why not pop down for a week or two on the way?" He wrapped his arms around me. "Or longer, eh?"

Sure enough, a week later a plane ticket arrived in the mail for me: Los Angeles to Adelaide, Australia, on May 27th. Open return.

Fly across the world to visit a guy I just met? What could possibly go wrong?

In case you ever get a similar offer, here are a few guidelines.

1. Find his town on a map. I didn't bother, figuring that Kingscote was a suburb of Adelaide.

It wasn't. An hour and a half drive to Port Jervis, a half hour wait for a ferry, and then another half hour to Kangaroo Island.

2. Ask about the sightseeing itinerary.

Before I arrived, Carl told me about all of the sightseeing we would be doing. Ayres Rock! The National Museum of Melbourne! The gay neighborhood of Sydney!

I got Kangaroo Island.

"I moved to Sydney when I was a youngster, did all the wild life," Carl said. "To be honest, mate, it gets old fast. I moved to Kangaroo Island to get away from all that. "

The kangaroos come right up to your door. You can shake hands with them. Who could ask for anything better?"

"Um...well, is there much of a gay community in Adelaide?"

"I only get out there once or twice a year. Too much to do here on the island."

3. Find out about the amenities in his town. Kingscote, the only city on Kangaroo Island, was small, flat, and dusty, with a population that barely reached 2,000. It had half a dozen restaurants, all seafood, no gyms, one art gallery, no museums, no bookstores, no movie theater. For that you had to take the ferry to Adelaide.

"What do you do here?" I asked, dubiously.

"Why, it's the greatest place in the world! We have penguins, seagulls, and kangaroos you can walk right up to and pet. We have hiking, camping, swimming, diving...well, the water's a bit cold at the moment."

4. Ask about the living situation.

Carl lived in a small square house right on the ocean -- you could hear it from the living room, and see it from the front porch. Inside there were no books except some wilderness guides.

And no tv!

"What do you do at night?" I asked.

"Oh, listen to music and read, I suppose. But mostly I go visiting. Aussies are big on entertaining."

5. Ask about the local gay community.

He was right about that. Every night we had dinner with a different grinning heterosexual couple who asked if I had a girlfriend back in the states.

"I'm not exactly out to them," Carl explained. "Or to anyone, really."

"Are there any gay people on Kangaroo Island?"

"Lots! I have one gay friend here, a bloke I grew up with, and there's a lesbian couple who run a gift shop for the tourists. They have me over for dinner every week."

"That's not exactly lots."

6. Ask about his intentions.

I asked about the open-ended ticket, but Carl said "No worries. I know you have to get to Japan sometime this summer. But what if you like it so much, you want to stay?"

Since Carl arranged for my ticket, I felt obligated to put in at least a week. Admittedly, it was fun to see the kangaroos, pet the seagulls, feed the penguins, have dinner with the lesbian couple, and "share" Carl's childhood friend.

Once I took the ferry by myself into Adelaide, for the South Australian Museum, some bookstores, a bath house, and an Indonesian restaurant.

But overall, it was a dreary holiday. Made more dreary by the work visa application that Carl presented me over breakfast one morning.

"Now that you've fallen in love with the place, why not stay? You can come work with me. We can have a life together here, far away from the noise and crowds of the gay ghetto."

I wanted the noise and crowds of the gay ghetto!

After 10 days, I said goodbye and flew home.

I'm still waiting to go to Ayres Rock, the National Museum in Melbourne, and the gay neighborhood of Sydney.

See also: Finding a Boyfriend at the Horseman's Club.

People are always asking if you're a fan of masculine backsides or frontsides.

Backsides have their allure. Glutes are pleasantly shapely, and hamstrings and calves have an appeal. Besides, you can ogle at them without the owner noticing.

But they pale in comparison to the weak-in-the-knees magnificence of muscular pecs, abs, and biceps. Not to mention the basket.

And the face. Who wants to cruise the back of someone's head?

So I don't understand why:

1. Homophobes always equate gay with backsides. "I'm not homophobic, but the things you do are so disgusting!" they squeal. "How can you do that...that backside thing? Doesn't it make you sick?"

2. The first thing gay men ask is "Are you a top or a bottom?" (For backside activities).

3. Or in my case, because I'm on the tall side, they just assume. The moment we get to my apartment, they flop onto their stomachs.

4. Guys who are bottoms for backside activities are denigrated as unmanly. "He may act all masculine and butch, but he's really a little sissy! The moment you get into the bedroom, he flops onto his stomach!"

5. When a backside act is forced, it's a felony. Every other forced same-sex act is a misdemeanor, not nearly as serious in the eyes of the law.

6. After a night of very energetic erotic activity, guys say "Well, that was nice, but I want to go all the way with you! I want to have sex!" Anything not involving the backside is preliminary, "fooling around," not really sex at all.

It's due to the heterosexual assumption that sex must always involve a male penetrating a female. Whatever gay men do must follow that model, and since there's no vagina, they must substitute the backside (and the one who gets penetrated is like a woman, therefore despicable).

Sexist, homophobic nonsense. Sex involves many different activities. Your whole body can participate, not just one part.

When I moved to West Hollywood in the 1980s, we weren't sure yet what caused AIDS -- the HIV virus had not yet been isolated, but we knew that it was transmitted easily through unprotected backside activity -- so most guys stayed away. The rest used condoms. Always.

Today only about half of gay men are interested in backside activity (50% are bottoms, 20% tops, and 30% versatile).

Oddly, only about half of older and a third of younger men use condoms.

Crazy.

See also: The night I lost my virginity.

Even in a gay community as big as West Hollywood, the new kid in town always gets noticed.

I arrived in Los Angeles on Wednesday, July 3rd, 1985. Before July 10th, when I started my new job at Muscle and Fitness, I was cruised many times, received six phone numbers, and went out on two dates.

Marcus was Date #2.

We met on Friday, July 5th, in the Human Resources Department at Paramount Studios; I was waiting to be interviewed for an administrative assistant job, and he was dropping something off. We chatted, and cruised, and exchanged phone numbers.

Marcus was in his 20s, shorter than me, muscular but a little chunky, African-American with very light skin, freckles, and a hairy chest.

Sounds great, right? Three of the five traits I find attractive. I just needed to check on his religiousity and his beneath-the-belt gifts!

Our date was on Saturday, July 6th:

An insider tour of Paramount Studios, followed by dinner at the French Quarter and cruising at the Gold Coast.

Marcus grew up in Kalispell, Montana, a hotbed of white supremacism, machismo, and homophobia: a horrible place for a kid who was quiet, shy, artistic, African-American, and gay. He found solace in the Episcopal Church, the the old movies they showed in downtown Kalispell, and the drama club at Glacier High School. Before the ink was dry on his diploma, he headed out to Los Angeles to become an actor.

Sounds great, right? I could certainly relate to being a shy, quiet, artistic kid in a terrible small town. And he was religious, #4 on the list of traits that I find attractive. I just needed to check on #5, his beneath-the-belt gifts.

I can't count Marcus as a celebrity friend. He had some tv guest spots and some live theater on his resume, but mostly he made do with temp jobs. Currently he was working as a production assistant for Gimme a Break!

At the end of the evening, we drove up into the Hollywood Hills, to a weird, eclectic house that Marcus shared with a film producer who may or may not have been his ex-lover. We sat on the couch by a picture window that looked down on the lights of Hollywood.

Sounds great, right? Exactly what I thought West Hollywood would be like: gay people everywhere, and lots of connection to the film industry, and a room with a view!

That's when things went wrong.

Time for the end-of-the-date activities! I leaned in for a kiss.

Marcus pushed me away.

"No one knows what causes AIDS," he said solemnly.

Rather an odd nonsequitor! "Sure they do. It's the HIV virus, transmitted in semen and blood."

"They're not sure. Could be any body fluid, like saliva. We have to be safe."

"I'm always safe!" I announced, somewhat offended. "I always use condoms."

"Condoms for anal and oral both?" Marcus asked pointedly.

"Um...no. There's really no evidence that HIV is transmitted through oral alone."

"And what about French kissing? If saliva doesn't do it, a tiny nick or puncture in your mouth will!"

No kissing? "I've been tested!," I protested. " I'm HIV negative!"

"Those tests are inconclusive." He touched my shoulder. "Look -- I used to be out there cruising with the best of them, but when this whole thing stated, I vowed to be celibate until they find a cure."

Celibate? Suddenly I felt very foolish. Was this supposed to be a just-friends outing? "Does that mean...um...no dating?"

"Oh, no, we can date," Marcus said. "There's a lot of fun things to do -- we can play tennis, go bowling, go to movies. We can even spend the night together. But no sex or kissing, until they find a cure. Um...that's ok, isn't it?"

He was talking to the empty space left after I zoomed out of the house, leaving a me-shaped hole in the wall.

I never had a chance to investigate his beneath-the-belt attributes.

But Marcus and I stayed friends, and he introduced me to several celebrities, including an old buddy from his acting class, Michael J. Fox.

See also: Nearly Stabbed by Michael J. Fox's Ex-Lover.

When I was in college, gay people were never, ever mentioned in class. Professors refused to assign the works of gay authors, artists, and musicians, or if that was impossible, tried their best to pretend that they were heterosexual.

So when they discussed Aubrey Beardsley (1872-1898), the artist of the Aesthete and Decadent Movement, they emphasized his illustrations of naked women and heterosexual couples, and ignored the gigantic penises (so gigantic that I'm embarrassed to show them here).

They emphasized his illustrations of Le Morte d'Arthur and Oscar Wilde's Salome, and his covers of The Yellow Book. They skipped over the intensely homoerotic symbolism in his illustrations for Lysistrata and Venus and Tannhauser.

And they certainly ignored his friendships with Oscar Wilde, Max Beerbohm, and all of the gay writers and artists of the Yellow 90s.

What was left was a hetero-horny young man with an inexplicable interest in phallic imagery.

In 1897, Beardsley converted to Catholicism, like many of the Aesthetes in the years after Oscar Wilde's trial, and asked his publisher to destroy his "obscene drawings." He died of tuberculosis a year later, at the age of 25.

The Silent Movie Blog has an interesting post on The Collegians, a series of silent movie shorts (1926-1929) directed by Wesley Ruggles, about buddy-competitors at Calford College, Ed Benson (George Lewis) and Don Trent (Eddie Philips). They spend their time playing sports, stripping down in the shower, and finding excuses to grab and fondle each other, while generally ignoring girls.

In Flashing Oars (1927), for instance, Don Trent goes out drinking on the night before the big rowing race with rival Velmar College. In order to sober him up, Ed and his friends grab him, strip him out of his clothes, and throw him in the shower.

Meanwhile, Doc (Churchill Ross), a nerdish bookworm, explains why he goes to all the games, even though he hates sports, and hangs out in the locker room afterwards.

Supple vertebrae, right.

The Relay (1926) is about a boys-vs-girls swimming match, with the boys ripping each others' clothes off and wrestling in a swimming pool. Oh, and the girls swim too.

There is occasionally a hetero-romance, or a scene of boys mooning over girls at the Hula-Hula Hut, but merely as film conventions, secondary to the plots that require the boys to get as naked as possible, as often as possible.

About a third of the 44 films survive. The Relay is available on Amazon.

See also: The Four Devils: Lost Beefcake of the Silent Era

As a kid, I liked Flipper and Skippy the Bush Kangaroo, but I wouldn't be caught dead watching Lassie (1954-73). The soppily sentimental theme song, the collie's maudlin whines, the heart-tugging plotlines, the nauseatingly cute boy-owners -- I thought it was fit only for grandmothers and little girls. I'd rather watch something a little more macho, Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea, Land of the Giants, The Young Rebels, even Wild Kingdom if I had to.

But some gay boys liked the boy owners -- their cuteness, their lack of any perceptible interest in girls -- and, as they grew into adolescence, their hunkiness and the frequency with which they took off their shirts. There were three of them, but the most famous was Jon Provost (born in 1950), whose Timmy lived with the dog from 1957 to 1964.

Timmy started out a blond kewpie doll, saying things like "golly-gee" to his adopted parents. But he didn't stay a kewpie doll long.

When his stint on Lassie ended, Jon was 14 years old, well into his adolescence, and gay boys and heterosexual girls were starting to take notice.

He hung around with other teen idols, such as Davy Jones (left), Kurt Russell, and Kevin Schultz. No boyfriends, but according to his autobiography, Timmy's in the Well, gay buddy Sal Mineo once got a little too grabby during a three-way with his girlfriend.

Jon tried his hand at singing, and starred in some movies: This Property is Condemned (1966), The Secret of the Sacred Forest (1967), and The Computer Wore Tennis Shoes (1970), starring Kurt Russell.

The teen magazines responded with swimsuit and extra-tight painted-on-slacks photos.

But he was too typecast as Timmy to get the full teen-hunk treatment, so Jon retired from acting, except for a recurring role on The Adventures of Lassie (1989-92). He got his degree in psychology, and settled down to a civilian career. He still attends fan conventions, and is gracious to the boomers, both male and female, who had crushes on him as kids.

I always write about my real memories, but in order to change incidents into stories, I leave things out, switch things around, make up conversations, change details. So what you read isn't exactly what happened. And the guys in the stories like to tell me about it. I often get emails with corrections, complaints, and suggestions.

Here are my 10 biggest suggestions;

1. Cousin Joe, my older cousin, whose Kielbasa+ I glimpsed in the bathroom when I was seven years old. "I didn't think you were gay when you said 'The President's not cute!' I had no idea until you moved to West Hollywood! But thanks for the free publicity -- tell your female readers that I'm single and available!"

2. Viju, my best friend from Indiana University, who took me to my first gay bar and competed with me over pecs: "You make it sound like all we ever did was have sex! Why don't you tell them about the time we climbed onto the roof of Ballantine Hall and almost got arrested?"

3. Dick, my old bully, who I hooked up with at Christmastime during my terrible year in Hell-fer-Sartain, Texas: "I didn't live anywhere near Dewey's Candy Store, and I was never into guns! Why don't you tell them about my relationship with Jack? We've been together for thirteen years."

4. My celebrity boyfriend:"You make me sound too superficial -- it was a mutual breakup! But thanks for not outing me! By the way, why didn't you put me on your Sausage List? I'm bigger than most of those guys!"

5. Ryan, with whom I had the Worst Date in West Hollywood History: "We only did about half of those things! And who says it was the worst date in West Hollywood history? I had a great time!"

7. Blake, the Manhattan opera buff who was the subject of my "roommate switch": "Was that real? I had no idea that you were so devious! And you are wrong about Yuri and I -- we dated for about three months! By the way, I should go much farther down on your Sausage List. I'm definitely a Kovbasa+!"

8. Barney. "There were eight guys at that hurricane party, not just five! Yuri never had to spend the night with you and your date. And why didn't you put me on your Sausage List? I'm bigger than most of the guys on it!"

9. Chad, the waiter at the Neptune who was living with the Satyr in Upstate New York: "You got the relationship all wrong. We joked around a lot, but we were just roommates, not some weird houseboy thing."

10. The Rapper, the ex-lover of the crying Truck Driver in Upstate New York: "I never wanted to become a rapper -- that was just for fun. I'm mostly into jazz, with a little classical. And why didn't you put me on your Sausage List? I'm bigger than most of those guys! Tell you readers I'm a Mortadella+++!"

A major child star of the 1950s era, Tommy Rettig appeared alongside some of the greats of cinema, including Jimmy Stuart (Jackpot), Mickey Rooney (The Strip), Eve Arden (The Lady Wants Mink), Marilyn Monroe (The River of No Return), and Van Heflin (The Raid). His heroism and frequent shirtless shots made him the first crush of many gay Boomer boys. Boomer boys.

Years before Jon Provost created the iconic Lassie image of cherubic blond boy in need of constant saving, 14-year old Tommy started hanging out with the collie (1954-57). Jeff Miller (Tommy) was a slim, handsome teenager who didn't fall into many wells; instead, his plotlines often involved school, freinds, and sports. He was the first crush of many gay

Other than was most famous for the surreal 5,000 Fingers of Dr. T (1953), in which evil piano teacher Dr. T (Hans Conreid) plans to marry the unsuspecting mom of Bartholomew Collins (Tommy), and has the ultimate plot of forcing 500 boys to play his gigantic piano. Bartholomew and the heroic plumber, Mr. Zabladowski (Peter Lind Hayes) work together to save them both. It was an early protest against conformity, including heterosexist marriage-and-children.

Like Jon Provost, Tommy found his post-Lassie acting career complicated by type-casting. He guest-starred in many tv series, including Wagon Train, Death Valley Days, Mr. Novak, The Fugitive, and The Little Hobo. He starred in the teen soap Never Too Young as Tony Dow's best friend JoJo (1966). But by the late 1960s, even bit parts dried up.

In the 1970s he tried several careers, including marijuana farming, before finding his niche as a computer database specialist, creating important innovations in DBase and FoxPro. He died in 1996.

Children's cartoons are a vast wasteland, not only erasing gay people from the world, but erasing any hint of family structures other than heterosexual husband-wife-and-kids. Think of Fairly Oddparents, Doug, Hey Arnold, The Wild Thornberries, As Told by Ginger, The Proud Family, My Gym Partner's a Monkey, The Grim Adventures of Billy and Mandy,

Rugrats had a single Dad whose wife had died.

Foster's Home For Imaginary Friends had a single Mom, husband not mentioned.

Phineas and Ferb belonged to a blended family, other parents not mentioned.

And that's about it.

Live-action children's tv doesn't fare much better.

Drake and Josh belonged to a blended family, but the other parents were not mentioned.

ICarly had a girl being raised by her older brother, her parents not mentioned and presumed dead.

The Suite Life of Zack and Cody had the twins being raised by a divorced mom.

And that's about it.

So Clarence (2013-) on the Cartoon Network is groundbreaking.

1. The titular character, the chubby, cheerful Clarence, lives with his mother and her live-in boyfriend, Chad, who appears to be a caveman or Sasquatch.

Cohabitating heterosexuals? That has never been seen on children's tv before, ever!

2. Clarence's best friend, the square-headed Jeff (voiced by Sean Giambrone of The Goldbergs) lives with two Moms!

A lesbian couple? That has never been seen on children's tv before, ever!

I don't count the single scene on the last episode of Disney's Good Luck, Charlie, in which two Moms appear briefly, discomfort the heterosexuals, and then vanish.

Jeff's parents are a butch-femme lesbian couple. E.J., who wears masculine-coded clothing and has a square head, like Jeff, has been referenced in two episodes.

She has a major role in "Jeff Wins," in which Jeff prepares for a cooking contest.

Sue, who has red hair and feminine-coded clothing, appears only in "Jeff Wins."

Clarence is not the least surprised to discover that Jeff has two Moms. That bridge was passed long ago.

E.J. is voiced by Lea DeLaria (left), a well-known lesbian comedian with screen roles including Friends, The Drew Carey Show, More Tales of the City, Will & Grace, Californication, and Orange is the New Black.

Sue is voiced by Tig Notaro, a lesbian stand-up comic who is writing a memoir about her childhood in Mississippi, her comedy career, and her battle with cancer.

Jeff's Moms have not been referenced in the second season; perhaps they will vanish into oblivion.

But it's a start.

See also: The First Gay Kiss on Children's TV

I can't write this story while alone in the house. I have to wait for Jeremy to get home. It freaks me out.

When I was living in Manhattan, I always got off at the Christopher Street Station, even though I actually lived closer to 14th Street. I never got tired of walking past the Stonewall Inn, where gay liberation began, or the Gay Liberation Monument in Christopher Park.

Sometimes there was a Catholic priest walking next to me.

At least I assumed he was a Catholic priest -- he was dressed all in black.

He was in his 20s, shorter than me, with broad shoulders, dark skin, and Asian features. Very handsome. He spoke slowly and formally, as if English wasn't his first language.

I could never remember exactly when he approached. One moment I was walking alone, and the next, he was walking beside me.

When I thought about it, I figured that he was a friend of Andre, who belonged to a Traditional Catholic spiritual community. But I didn't think about it much. Everything seemed perfectly ordinary.

As we walked five or six blocks down Christopher Street and the Avenue of the Americas, the priest asked me questions.

Mostly trivial:
"What kind of food is your favorite?"
"What occupation does your father have?"

Sometimes gay-specific:
"Are there locations where gay people congregate?"
"Why does your government forbid gay people from serving in the military?"

I was pleasantly surprised that a Catholic priest was so gay-friendly.

Sometimes very personal:
"What is your preferred method of achieving an orgasm?"
"Do you have a preferred size in the penises of your partners?"

But I answered them without hesitation, never even thinking how odd it was for a priest to be asking me about penis sizes as we walked down the Avenue of the Americas together.

When we got to 13th Street, I turned right to go to my apartment, and the priest vanished. I assumed that he was continuing north to the Church of St. Francis Xavier, but actually I never saw where he went.

He was definitely my type, and I'm particularly interested in priests. But for some reason I never thought of inviting him out on a date, or for a hook up.

Then one day in the spring of 2000, he invited himself.

When we got to 13th Street, I turned righ, as usual, but the priest continued to walk next to me.. "I am very interested in new experiences," he said. "If you are free just now, could we go to your room?"

I didn't protest.

When we got to my apartment, the priest led me directly into my bedroom. Strange, since he had never been there before.

"Would you like a soda?" I asked. "Or some water?"

"Certainly, if that is customary. Water, please."

On the way to the kitchen, I thought, "Does he really want to hook up, or am I imagining it? If I make a move and he's not interested, he'll think all gay men are sexual predators. But if I don't make a move..."

When I returned, the priest was sitting on the bed. "Is this your preferred starting location?" he asked.

"Um...sure, but...well, I thought you guys were celibate."

He took the glass of water from my hands and drained it in a few gulps, as if he was very thirsty -- or nervous. "Oh, no, we can enjoy sexual intimacies with whomever we wish. We get very few opportunities, however. There is so much other work to do. Should I remove my clothing?"

What followed was very unsatisfying. The priest had a nice physique and respectable beneath-the-belt gifts, but he was singularly inept.

He kissed by opening his mouth as wide as he could.

He just lay there like a statue, responding without emotion, saying nothing except "Am I doing it right?"

He wasn't.

When we were finished, instead of cuddling, he got up and quickly dressed. "Thank you very much," he said. "This was very enjoyable." He headed for the door.

"Shouldn't we exchange telephone numbers?"

The priest looked surprised. "If it is customary." I gave him my card, and he wrote a name and a telephone number on a piece of paper. Then I walked him to the door, and he vanished into the cool Manhattan evening.

I never saw him again.

The name he gave was "Mario Sanchez, OSB" and the telephone number was for the Department of Religion at Columbia University, but there was no one by that name on the faculty.

OSB is the abbrevation for the Benedictine Order. There are several Benedictine monasteries in New York (none in Manhattan), and the monks wear black cassocks.

But then, why the mysterious appearances and disappearances? The bizarre questions? The "we aren't celibate."

Later I read Jenny Randles'The Truth Behind the Men in Black, about the weird men dressed in old-fashioned black suits who question people who see UFOs. They ask bizarre questions and behave oddly, yet no one finds them unusual at the time. (They were popularized in a series of movies starring Will Smith).

Maybe the priest was an alien-human hybrid conducting research on gay people.

Or just a Catholic monk with a strange cruising technique.

See also: The Homophobic Demon and The Y2K Bug

All in the Family hit the heights of television glory in the 1970s with bigot Archie Bunker. He hated blacks, Puerto Ricans, Jews, Italians, Poles, women's libbers, gays, and just about everyone else, to the consternation of his easygoing wife and radical-hippie daughter and son-in-law.

Everybody loved him, right? So why not try it again 30 years later?

Enter The War at Home (2005-2007), starring Michael Rappaport as obnoxious jerk Dave Gold, who hates blacks, Puerto Ricans, Muslims, women's libbers, liberals, and gays (not Jews because he's Jewish).

He has an easygoing wife and three teenage kids: horny Hillary (Kaylee DeFer), obviously not named after Hillary Clinton; feminine Larry (Kyle Sullivan); and teen operator Mike (Dean Collins, left).

Most storylines involved Dave's obnoxious prejudices, his hatred of sex, or a combination of the two:
Hillary dates a black man!
Hillary has sex with a black man!
Mike has sex!
Larry starts to masturbate!
Larry wears women's clothes!
Larry kisses a boy! (Actually, a girl in men's clothes).

It was impossible to watch, vulgar, obnoxious, horrible.

The problem is: you felt sorry for Archie Bunker. He was a product of the 1930s, when white heterosexual male supremacy was practically unquestioned. (Remember the theme song, "Goils were goils and men were men"). He was a relic of the past, lost in a rapidly-changing world.

Dave Gold is a product of the 1970s, when Civil Rights, Gay Rights, and Women's Rights were already underway. He lives in an ultra-liberal Long Island milieu. There is no reason for his prejudices. They exist just so the character can say outrageous things, like Peter Griffin on Family Guy (which aired immediately afterwards).

After a year of groaning critics and bad ratings, it became obvious that Dave Gold had to clean up his act, become kinder, gentler, less obnoxious. So Larry's school friend Kenny (Rami Malek) comes out, gets kicked out of the house by his conservative Muslim father, and moves in with the Golds.

Dave dives head-first into the problem of gay kids being rejected by their families, even serving up a PSA for the Trevor Project at the end of some episodes. He also dives into Kenny's love life, buying the embarrassed kid a copy of The Joy of Gay Sex and quizzing him on lubricants and dildos.

Wait -- was this the guy who hated Muslims, gays, and sex last year? It was completely out of character -- and Dave looked positively aghast during the Trevor Project PSAs. After winning a GLAAD Award for a portrayal of the only gay Muslim on tv, The War at Home was cancelled.

See also: Dean Collins.

Michael Moorcock was a leader in the British "new wave" of science fiction, confusing mishmashes of sci fi, fantasy, and James Joyce.. I liked the beefcake covers, and his name was...um, appealing. But the novels were impenetrable.

Except for the Dancers at the End of Time (1972-76), a series of novels set in the far, far, far, FAR distant future, when the few remaining humans have practically infinite power. They can change the shape of the continents and the color of the sky, instantly. No one has been born or died for thousands of years; they can be killed, but their friends resurrect them again.

Beings with names like Lord Jagged, Werner de Goethe, the Duke of Queens, Mistress Christia the Everlasting Concubine, Lord Shark the Unknown, and the Iron Orchid spend their time in aesthetic revelry and partygoing.

Sounds like the Aesthete-Decadent Movement of the late 19th century, with power rings.

And substantial beefcake.

They can change their sizes and shapes in order to produce more aesthetically pleasing effects, and what could be more aesthetically pleasing than a gigantic lavender penis?

And the first hints of same-sex activity that I ever saw in print.

1. Miss Amelia Underwood, a time traveler from the Victorian Era, is horrified when Jherek Carnelian nonchalantly admits to having sex with "a male friend'!

2. An alien named Yusharisp warns them that they have expended so much energy in their various schemes that the heat death of the universe is imminent. Jherek Carnelian doesn't really believe him, but thinks it would be a lark to accompany him through the universe, warning people.

Yusharisp comes to believe that Jherek is in love with him!

Turns out that Michael Moorcock often included gay-vague or bisexual-vague characters in his novels, although he never actually portrayed any same-sex relationships.

That's a lot more gay content than most science fiction of the 1970s. Actually, it's a lot more gay content than most science fiction today.

See also: Xanth; Samuel Delaney.

The Castro may have been Gay Heaven, but the rest of San Francisco was not. You might see an occasional hand-holding gay couple or rainbow flag, but mostly you were deluged by heterosexual power-couples and cooing Moms and Pops on holiday. Some neighborhoods were quite homophobic I have had slurs yelled out of passing cars at me only five times in my life: once in Maine, once in Texas, and three times in San Francisco.

So most gay people in San Francisco wanted to move to the Castro.

It was tough. There were no apartment buildings, just Victorian houses chopped up into apartments with rents averaging $4000 per month, that came available only when someone died.

And the competition was fierce. Once I looked at a one-room basement apartment, with an impossibly low ceiling and glazed windows that wouldn't open. Unliveable! But not to the dozen people inside frantically filling out applications!

I was living in a cramped third-floor walk-up, over a hardware store, down the street from a liquor store, and within a few block's walk of seven Baptist churches, a Pentecostal church, and the United House of Prayer for All People.

It was nearly as homophobic as Hell-fer-Sartain, Texas.

But only a mile from the Castro!

Late in September 1996, I had the opportunity to move closer.

There were no bath houses or saunas in San Francisco; they had all been closed down by Public Health. But there was a weekly Bear Party (for big, hairy, husky guys) held at a private house South of Market. Upstairs there was socializing and snacks; downstairs, a maze, a dark room, a dungeon, and a room full of mattresses for erotic activity.

The highlight of the party was the Slave Boy, a different guy each week tied to a St. Andrew's cross, naked, his mouth held open by a metal stirrup. He stayed there all evening, available to be used for erotic activity by anyone who passed by.

Beside him was a box of erotic toys: whips, paddles, clothespins, a violet wand, and so on.

Some party guests became quite busy trying out the various toys, but I was usually content to just watch. Until one night when the Slave Boy was particularly attractive: short, dark-skinned, and muscular. Near the end of the party, I approached, took off the stirrup, and kissed him.

And kept kissing him.

When I pulled away, he pulled me back in.

After about ten minutes, he whispered "Would Sir like to come home with me tonight? My name is Oliver."

A hookup with a slave boy? "Aren't you too tired by now?"

"Oh, no, Sir, I'm always ready." We kissed for awhile longer. "I'll ask my Sir, ok?"

So I hung around until a muscle bear named Rick and another guy in a slave collar arrived to untie Oliver. They had a brief conversation, and Rick motioned me over.

"My Boy would like you to share his bed tonight. Are you interested?"

"If it's ok with you, Sir."

"Fine, fine. Boy's been very good tonight, and he deserves a reward." He pushed the still-naked Oliver toward me. "But no pain, ok?"

We were so busy kissing in the backseat that I wasn't paying attention to where we were going until we arrived.

It was a narrow Victorian on Eureka at 19th, in the heart of the Castro!

Rick led us into a parlor with hardwood floors and parquet ceilings, furnished all in black leather and glass. A naked guy who had been watching tv sprang up to take our coats.

"Gene, look at the present Sir got me for being good!" Oliver exclaimed. "I can't wait to unwrap him."

"Would Sir like a beer or a soda?" Gene asked. "Or me?" he added with a leer.

"No, thanks. I think I'd just like to go to bed."

Oliver grinned, took my hand, and led me upstairs to a beautiful bedroom with a four-poster bed and an antique mahogany dresser. There was a copy of The Short Stories of O. Henry on the nightstand.

"Nice room," I said. "You slaves got it made."

"This is the guest room. I sleep in the slave quarters with Gene and Mike, when I'm not in Sir's bed." He put his arms around me. "Would Sir like to undress while I take a shower?"

I had never met a 24/7 Slave before, and I was interested in how it worked. Oliver told me that all of the slaves had jobs, but they signed their paychecks over to Sir, who gave them a weekly allowance and put some money into their savings accounts. They could have their own friends and outside activities, even hookups, with Sir's permission. They were always on call -- even if they were performing an appendectomy, when Sir called, they dropped everything and rushed home.

"What if Sir is abusive?" I asked "What if he orders you to do something dangerous?"

"Sir always respects my limits!" Oliver exclaimed, offended. "But if he did something to hurt me...it would be a tough decision, but the relationship might have to end."

I envied Oliver-- he could walk two blocks to Almost Home and the Oyster Bar.
Three blocks to the Midnight Sun, the gay Walgreens, and the Different Light.
Four blocks to Thai Thai, Marcello's Pizza, Twin Peaks, and Orphan Andy's.
Nothing but gay people for five blocks in any direction!

"It almost sounds worth it, just to live in the Castro!"

"You think so?"

In the morning, we went downstairs to a flurry of activity as Gene flipped pancakes (while nude), Mike made coffee (while nude), and Rick put on a business suit to go to work.

"Did you enjoy yourself last night?" he asked.

"Yes, Sir! Jeff is very hot -- not nearly as hot as Sir, of course. And...he told me he was interested in becoming your new boy!"

I blanched. "What? No...I..."

Rick turned to me. "Have you had any experience, Boy?"

"No..." I stammered. "I just said..."

"It's not S&M, you know., although some slaves need that. It's total domination -- I control everything about your life, even what you have for lunch. That's a big commitment, for both of us.

"I know. Oliver has been telling me about it."

"We'd have to try it out for a couple of weeks, before signing the contract."

A couple of weeks...in a beautiful Victorian on Eureka, in the heart of the Castro? In the center of the gay universe? In gay heaven?

It wasn't worth it.

But I did get to spend the night with Oliver again, the next time he was the Bear Party's Slave Boy.

See also: My Date with the Vampire and Finding Larry's Fetish.

In 2007, aging comedian Jerry Lewis called someone a "fag" during his telethon, and apologized the next day for his "bad choice of words." In 2008, he referred to cricket as a "f-- game" during an interview on Australian tv, but refused to apologize.

Ok, he's homophobic. But no more homophobic than other people born in 1926: Paul Lynde, Aldo Ray, Tom Tryon, Allen Ginsberg, Cloris Leachman, Charlotte Rae. . .never mind.

But in his early days, he was gay. Or rather, he played gay.

In 1946, the young Borscht Belt comedian Jerry Lewis and the nightclub singer Dean Martin started a comedy act. It spun into a radio program (1949-53), numerous television appearances, and a series of 16 movies, beginning with with My Friend Irma (1946) and ending with Hollywood or Bust (1956).

From the 1920s through the 1960s, many comedians came in pairs: Laurel and Hardy, Abbott and Costello, The Smothers Brothers, Gilligan and the Skipper. They were a relic of Vaudeville, where a "straight man" would set up the joke and a "stooge" would deliver the punchline.

In comedy duos, the straight man (Hardy, Abbott, the Skipper, Dean Martin) strived for respectability: a job, a house, a wife. He wanted to do things "right," conform to the rules of heterosexist normalcy. The stooge (Laurel, Costello, Gilligan, Jerry Lewis) was a court jester, like Harlequin of the Commedia dell'Arte or Skip in the Little Nemo comic strip. He stymied the straight man's plans, skewered his pretensions, brought anarchy, rebellion, and freedom. He was usually not interested in women.

Most comedy duos eliminated the potential for gay subtext by pretending to hate each other, but Dean and Jerry obviously cared for each other. Jerry went even farther, however, hinting to the oblivious Dean that he was in love. And sometimes going beyond hints.

Dean: I wanna read this fan letter.
Jerry: You don't need to read it to me. I know what it says. "Dear Mr Martin, you're wonderful, I adore your voice, I dream of you, I sleep with your picture under my pillow."
Dean: How did you know?
Jerry: That's how I feel, too.

Jerry was also extremely physical, always hugging, holding, and trying to kiss Dean, who accepted the displays of affection with some embarrasment. In My Friend Irma Goes West, Dean is rubbing Jerry's chest in a circular motion; Jerry says that it feels good, but he would prefer "bigger circles." Where, precisely, does he want Dean's hand to be?

In their movies and nightclub acts, Dean played the self-absorbed, not-always-faithful "husband," and Jerry the devoted but sneaky "wife." Dean went off to carouse with his card-playing buddies, while Jerry waited at home with dinner in the oven. Sometimes Dean hooked up with women, but Jerry always found a way to sabotage the relationship.

If it was all part of the act, what was it for? What joy did Dean and Jerry expect homophobic 1950s audiences to find in watching unrequited same-sex love?

The pair had a nasty breakup in 1956, and rarely spoke to each other again, except at the funeral of Dean's son, Dean Paul Martin. Dean Martin went on to the famous homoerotic Rat Pack.

But Jerry occasionally commented on their relationship: "It was like a romance"; "We were closer than brothers"; and, in an interview I remember from the early 1970s, "It makes you wonder if there is something to homosexuality."

See also: The Gay Adventures of Jerry Lewis.

I was finding a lot of beefcake among the guest stars and "security guard #1" roles of Fringe, but I began wondering: was Fringe unique -- a casting agent with an eye for male beauty -- or was every tv series inundated with musclemen? Maybe every guy who gets his SAG card nowadays knows his way around a gym.

To find out, I picked a tv sitcom at random -- How I Met Your Mother, which I've never seen.

I picked the sixth season at random, and looked through the cast list on imdb. The plotlines seem even more heterosexist than on Fringe: every episode furthers a hetero-romantic relationship.

In case you're interested (and I don't know why you would be), the sitcom is about a middle-aged architect (Ted) explaining "how I met your mother" to his kids, in an endless series of very, very long conversations (couldn't he have just said "we met in the laundromat"?). To enliven the boredom, he recounts his young-adult adventures in sex and romance with his girlfriend Robin, his best friend Marshall, Marshall's wife Lily, and hetero horndog Barney (played by gay actor Neil Patrick Harris).

Episode
1: "Big Days." Barney talks to a girl in a bar, but she has ex boyfriends. Soap star James Ryen (left) appears as Coworker #3.

2: "Cleaning House." Barney's brother James reconciles with his father. Nothing.

3. "Unfinished." Barney tries to woo Ted by womanizing? Nothing.

4. "Subway Wars." The guys race each other on a subway to meet Woody Allen. Geoff Stults as Max.

5. "Architect of Destruction." Ted refuses to design a new skyscraper that would require demolishing a historic landmark, in order to impress a woman named Zoey. Apparently Ted and Robin have broken up. Geoff Stults again.

6. "Baby Talk": Barney uses a baby to pick up women. Payson Lewis (left) as Morris. He's not really that buffed, but he has abs, and you take what you can get.

7. "Canning Randy": Marshall has to fire an incompetent employee. Nothing.

8. "Natural History": Ted and Zoey fight during a visit to the Museum of Natural History. Nothing.

9. "Glitter." Barney finds a video from Robin's teen star past. Nothing.

10. "Blitzgiving." A Thanksgiving episode. Nothing.

11. "The Mermaid Theory." Ted goes on a boat trip with Zoey's ex-husband. Nothing.

12. "False Positive." Lily thinks she's pregnant. Nothing.

13. "Bad News." Marshall's fertility doctor looks like Barney. Nothing.

14. "Last Words." Marshall's father's funeral. Nothing.

15. "Oh, Honey." Ted is in love with Zoey. Nothing.

16. "Desperation Day." Lily goes to Minnesota to get Marshall, who skipped town. Nothing

17. "Garbage Island." Marshall withholds sex from Lily. Is Ted really telling this story to his preteen kids? Dan O'Brien plays Meeker (top photo, but I think that might be another Dan O'Brien).

18. "A Change of Heart." Barney tries to impress a woman by claiming to want to get married. Robbie Amell (left) as Scooby.

19. "Legendaddy." Barney reconciles with his father. Michael Rupnow as Scott.

20. "The Exploding Meatball Sub." Ted and Zooey's relationship problems. Robbie Amell is back.

21. "Hopeless." Robin meets a guy she has a crush on. Michael Trucco (left) plays the crush.

22. "The Perfect Cocktail." The gang is barred from their bar hangout. Nothing.

23. "Landmark." More about the building to be demolished. Nothing.

24. "Challenge Accepted." Ted and Zooey break up. Nothing.

7 of 24 episodes (29%) had beefcake actors, but 15 of 22 episodes of Season 4 of Fringe (68%),

Over twice as much. Fringe wins by a landslide.

Somebody in the casting department likes a nice hard chest.

See also: The 15 Beefcake Stars of Fringe.

Since 2011, Bob's Burgers has been airing on Sunday night, in the company of Family Guy and American Dad. But it is quite different from those programs.

1. The father and mother in the nuclear family are not insensitive jerks.
2. They accept their children's idiosyncracies, instead of berating and belittling them (on American Dad) or maiming and murdering them (on Family Guy)
3. There are no sociopaths (like Roger Smith and Stewie Griffin), who kill, maim, and express same-sex interests all in the same scene, as if they are all equally disgusting.
4. There are few if any jokes involving menstruation, masturbation, vomiting, golden showers, diarrhea, or body fluids in general.
5. No one ever collapses in a pool of blood.
6. No one ever expresses hatred of blacks, Asians, Native Americans, Jews, Muslims, women, gay men, lesbians, or transgender persons.

In short, you never think you're watching a Nazi recruitment film scripted by potty-mouthed third graders.

It's about a small, struggling burger joint in a resort town in New Jersey, run by aspiring chef Bob Belcher (voiced by H. Jon Benjamin, top photo) and his New York accented wife, Linda (John Roberts). Plotlines generally involve restaurant problems, such a visit from the health inspector, competition with the pizza place across the street, or buying a food truck -- and the problems of the three kids:

1. Shy, socially-awkward teenager Tina (Dan Mintz).
2. Chubby preteen Gene (Eugene Merman), an exuberant nonconformist who may be gay.
3. Preteen rebel Louise (Kristin Schaal), who always wears bunny ears (no one in the family seems to care).

Heterosexism appears on occasion. A boy band has only female fans, and when Gene gets a secret admirer, everyone assumes that it must be a girl. But not often. Usually same-sex desire and relationships are seamlessly integrated into everyday life.

Bob gets a part-time job as a taxi driver, and finds himself driving a group of drag queens home from the bars. Does he:
a. Freak out, but learn tolerance.
b. Rescue the drag queens from homophobic harassment.
c. Invite them to the restaurant.

Answer: C. Invite them to the restaurant.

At Christmastime, Bob decides to reconcile with his estranged Dad, Big Bob. They meet in a gay bar called the Junkyard. Why?
a. Neither of them realize that it's a gay bar until they get hit on; then they freak out but learn tolerance.
b. Big Bob tells Bob that he's gay and closeted; that's why he withdrew from the family.
c. Big Bob likes hanging out there with his gay friends.

Answer: C. Big Bob just likes hanging out there.

Gene announces that he is gay. What happens?

a. The family freaks out but learns tolerance.
b. The family goes overboard with acceptance,
c. Nothing.

Actually, this episode hasn't appeared yet, and it's not likely to, because stories require conflict and, at least on Bob's Burgers, there wouldn't be any. Being gay is perfectly ordinary; the family wouldn't have a reaction to it.

By the way, John Roberts, the voice actor who plays Linda, is gay.

South of Market was a San Francisco neighborhood of warehouses, factories, car repair places, tattoo parlors, dive bars, drug deals, graffiti, and general decay.

And Mickey, a tall, buffed leatherman in his 30s, with a scruffy beard, nipple rings, and a tattoo of Hot Stuff the Little Devil.

He was at every Bear Party, standing in a dark corner in chaps and a leather vest, never socializing, never approaching anyone.

He was at every beer bust at the Eagle, standing in a dark corner in chaps and a leather jacket, never socializing, never approaching anyone.

He was at every underwear party at the Lone Star, standing in a corner in leather underwear, never socializing, never approaching anyone.

Most guys who took the initiative and approached him got Attitude. The few who met his standards got an exchange of names and an invitation to the nearest dark space. Nothing more. He never went home with anyone. He apparently had no friends.

I was intrigued, What caused a man to become isolated even from his own people? But when I tried involving Mickey in a conversation, all I got was an invitation to the nearest dark space.

Then one Tuesday morning I was walking down 9th to my part time job at an architectural firm, and I saw Mickey walking down Folsom, looking out of place in his chaps and leather vest in the midst of a business day.

"Hey, Mickey!" I called. He turned and looked at me, confused, threatened.

"Jeff. From the Bear Party and the Eagle, remember?"

"Sure. Um...how are you?"

"Fine, thanks. I'm on my way to work. I'm an administrative assistant at McCracken. You?"

"Um, well...." He looked around, as if searching for the nearest dark space to invite me to. Didn't he ever have conversations about anything else?

"Are you on your way to work, too?" I suggested. "Nice job that lets you work with your shirt off!"

"It's a leather shop. Looking hot is good for business."

My information about Mickey had doubled! Now was my chance! "So...are you free for lunch? There's a nice Chinese restaurant down on Bryant. You might have to put on a t-shirt...."

He peered toward the south. "I never go past Harrison. Too homophobic. Sixth, Twelfth, Harrison, Market, that's my turf."

"Really?" I was shocked. He had named a constrained world of about ten blocks! Ok, it had the Eagle, the Lone Star, the Bear Party, and some gyms, tattoo parlors, and bike shops, but no banks, bookstores, hardware stores, parks, or movie theaters. And... "You're missing the Castro! Gay heaven!"

"I'm not missing it much!" Mickey grinned. This was the first time I ever saw him express any emotion.

"Ok, how about if I come to you? I'll pick up some Chinese food and drop by your shop."

"Is it a gay Chinese restaurant?" he asked pointedly. "I don't eat straight food."

Straight food?

Over gay kung pao chicken and gay pork dumplings, Mickey told me a bit more about his life:
1. He grew up in Missouri, and had a degree in visual arts from Washington University in St. Louis.
2. He was working as a graphic artist in St. Louis, but he was accidentally outed and fired.
3. He was the favorite uncle to his brothers' and sister's kids, but when he was outed, they cut off all contact.
4. While leaving Clementine's in St. Louis, he was jumped and beat up by a band of homophobes, and taken to the hospital. His brothers and sister didn't visit.
5. He had lived in San Francisco for about five years. But he never visited the Castro. He'd have to go through a homophobic neighborhood to get there.

Gradually I began to understand. Some horrifying experiences with homophobia -- much worse than my own -- drove Mickey to bulwark himself in muscle and leather, entomb himself South of Market, and refuse human contact except when necessary for work or erotic release.

But gay neighborhoods were not about work or erotic release -- they were always about finding friends, family, a place where you belong.

And I knew exactly how to get Mickey there!

"The Metropolitan Community Church has an outreach program for gay youth," I said. "Many of them are having a terrible time at home, with parents who are homophobic and treat them like dirt."

"That's awful!" Mickey exclaimed.

"One of the things we do is give them a place to hang out after school. But right now it's unstructured, just some snacks and videos in the fellowship hall. I think they need some structured activities, like sports, or maybe an art class."

He knew where I was going. "No way -- I'm no teacher!"

"You don't have to know how to teach. You have to know how to mentor. You can be a favorite uncle again."

"But I'm an atheist!"

"The MCC doesn't discriminate."

"The MCC -- that's in the Castro, isn't it?"

"Yes, you'd have to go to the Castro. And you'd have to switch to a t-shirt and jeans."

It took a bit more persuading over several days of gay Chinese food, but soon Mickey and I were in the pastor's office, discussing his art background. And a couple of weeks after that, Mickey started his after-school art classes for LGBT youth.

The transformation was amazing. Soon Mickey was talking to people at the Lone Star and the Eagle. He was volunteering to work on the Mr. San Francisco Leather competition. And he invited one of the guys he met at the Bear Party to dinner -- at a gay restaurant, of course.

See also: The Slave Boy of Castro Street; and Hot Stuff the Little Devil.

Soup to Nutz (2000-) is a newspaper comic strip about a working-class Roman Catholic family, with a truculent, clueless Dad, a faux-cheery Mom, dopey older son Royboy, and self-possessed daughter Babs. It is ostensibly sent in the contemporary era, but often references the 1970s, with macaroni casseroles, G.I. Joes, and confusing Elton John's "Tiny Dancer" with "Tony Danza."

The central character is 6-year old Andrew, a smart, sensitive, boy with gender-atypical interests that constantly startle or offend everyone around him. He lip-synchs to Whitney Houston and the Village People, plays with Barbie dolls, studies ballet (in a tutu).

Referencing gay-favorite The Wizard of Oz, he asks why Dorothy would ever want to leave Oz and return to the oppression of Kansas.

He decides to befriend Peter Pan even though Royboy warns that Peter Pan is a “fairy,” homophobic slang for “gay.

Sometimes Royboy just comes right out and calls him a "fairy."

Other strips suggest that Andrew has same-sex interests as well. He gets crushes on Justin Bieber and the Brawny Paper Towel Man. He gazes in open-mouthed awe at the physique of a muscular superhero.

He is usually unfazed by the bemusement or contempt of his family and friends. When Royboy complains, “You’re not normal.” Andrew responds: “Why be normal when you can be happy?”

In an interview, cartoonist Rick Stromoski agrees that Andrew might be gay, but refuses positive identification, stating that Andrew is six years old and doesn’t know yet. Besides, he is popular among both gay and straight men who felt like outsiders because they played with dolls and didn’t like sports.

Between 1969 and 1972, and then again in 1978, Right Guard deodorant aired a series of commercials in which an unsuspecting apartment dweller (Bill Fiore) opens his medicine chest, only to discover he's sharing it with the apartment next door.

The other occupant (Chuck McCann) opens his side of medicine chest. He's big, brash, leering, apparently high. I remember them both being shirtless, but I guess they weren't.

"Hi, guy!" McCann says, obviously cruising the uncomfortable Fiore, before extolling the wonders of Right Guard (which seems unnecessary, since Fiore already uses it).

By the way, the medicine chests contain nothing but two cans sticks of Right Guard deodorant, facing with the labels out regardless of which side they're on.

"Hi, guy!" became a catchphrase. Everyone at Denkmann Elementary School tried to match Chuck McCann's intonation and leer, without realizing that we were imitating a gay pick-up line.

Bill Fiore was a cute, unassuming comedian of the 1970s. He appeared on The Corner Bar, which had the first ongoing gay character on tv, Love, American Style, Mary Tyler Moore, Laverne and Shirley, Three's Company, and Alice.

As this photo suggests, he had quite a nice physique.

Former children's show host Chuck McCann was also a comedy staple of the 1970s. One of his more interesting roles was W.C. Fields in the 1982 biopic Mae West. He's played Santa Claus several times, notably in an ongoing role on the soap Santa Barbara (1987-88).

No indication that he was gay, or intended a gay reading to his leering "Hi, guy!"

But it's impossible to say without an innuendo. Try it.

See also: The Eastwood Insurance Cowboy

Inclusivity Alert: Gay References on "The Middle"!

Summer 1986: The Cowboy of Kangaroo Island

Are You a Top or a Bottom?

Summer 1985: Marcus's Beneath-the-Belt Mystery

Aubrey Beardsley: Closeting the Phallic Artist

The Collegians: Muscle and Gay Symbolism of the Silent Movie Era

The Boys of Lassie 1: Jon Provost

My Top 10 Reader Suggestions

The Boys of Lassie 2: Tommy Rettig

The First Gay Couple on Children's TV

Spring 2000: Cruised by a Man in Black

The Homophobic Gay Ally of "The War at Home"

Michael Moorcock: Bisexual Decadence at the End of Time

The Slave Boy of Castro Street

Jerry Lewis Falls in Love

Which Has More Beefcake: "Fringe" or "How I Met Your Mother"?

Bob's Burgers: The Most Gay-Positive Sitcom on TV

Spring 1996: The Leatherman Who Never Left South of Market

The Gay Boy of "Soup to Nutz"

Hi, Guy!: Cruising in a 1970s TV Commercial