NYSocBoy's Beefcake and Bonding

I don't care for rap music, but who in 1991 wasn't paying attention to rapper Marky Mark and the Funky Bunch, whose "Good Vibration" reached #1 on the US Pop Charts?

We really weren't paying attention to the song; we were watching the music video, which showed Marky working out with his shirt off (and, unfortunately, having sex with a girl).

In live performances, he also took his shirt off, revealing an astounding bodybuilder's physique, and during the number he dropped his pants and grabbed his crotch, obviously aware that fans weren't paying attention to his musical talent.

Born in 1971, Marky Mark (Mark Wahlberg) was the younger brother of Donnie Wahlberg of New Kids on the Block (and a member himself for a few months). A young gang-banger,he was always getting into trouble. At age sixteen he was charged with attempted murder for a hate crime perpetrated against a Vietnamese youth that left him blind in one eye. While in juvenile detention, Mark "got his act together" and moved into music.

Marky Mark and the Funky Bunch didn't last long. Their first album, Music for the People (1991) went platinum, but their second, You Gotta Believe (1992), peaked at #63. The group disbanded in 1993.

His biography on the IMDB claims that his decline and fall came when he was being interviewed on a British talk show, and fellow rapper Shabba Ranks called for the extermination of gay people. His failure to comment was taken as agreement, and ended his career (I doubt it; aren't lots of rap fans homophobic?).

Mark then capitalized on his underwear notoriety by modeling for Calvin Klein (often hugging a girl).

Then he moved into acting, playing lots of muscular but dangerous/violent characters, or any role that capitalized on his physique and penis, such as Dirk Diggler in Boogie Nights (1997).

No gay roles. No gay-friendly roles. Now over 40, the actor has distanced himself from the racism of his youth, but he continues to make homophobic comments -- such as the script to Brokeback Mountain freaked him out -- although he claims that a closeted gay uncle taught him "tolerance."

See also: Looking for Beefcake on MTV.

In 2005, when I moved into the straight world after twenty years in gay neighborhoods, I swore that I would soon be back home again.

But gay neighborhoods tend to be in the heart of fabulous big cities that everyone on Earth is desperate to live in, so academic jobs are extraordinarily competitive. Every opening gets 300 or more applications, not only from the U.S. but worldwide, not only from new Ph.D.'s but from experienced, even tenured faculty.

Still, I kept trying, sending out applications to colleges near gay neighborhoods year after year, occasionally getting an interview but never being offered anything.

Finally, in 2013, my seventh year in the straight world, I got an offer: a small private college near Philadelphia had been stymied on its search for a tenure-track opening, so it needed someone to teach the Freshman Seminar, Research Methods, and "Law and Society"courses for a year while they were looking again.

A one year temporary position. But in Philadelphia!

Philadelphia's version of West Hollywood is Washington Square West, an 8x12 block square bounded by Walnut, South, Lombard, and Sixth. It is cluttered with gay bars (The Tavern on Camac, The Bike Stop), bath houses, restaurants, retail outlets, a Community Center, and Giovanni's Room, one of the oldest gay bookstores in the world,

I was there!

I moved down in August 2013, leaving Troy and most of my stuff in my apartment Upstate. There seemed no point for him to move down for just a year.

I hated it at first, but figured that all new cities take a little getting used to.

Three months later, I was still hating it.

Six months later, I was desperately applying for every job I could, as long as it was nowhere near Philadelphia!

What went wrong?

1. The Expense. I got a frightfully expensive apartment that took up 50% of my take-home salary.

But my apartments in San Francisco and the East Village were frightfully expensive too.

2. The Crime. It was in a high-crime neighborhood. I always heard about robberies, assaults, shots fired. I was afraid to go out at night.

But I used to walk down Santa Monica Boulevard at Highland without giving it a second thought.

3. The Commute. My college was 11 miles away, about an hour by train, there and back every day. Seemed like I spent my whole life on that train.

But when I was in grad school, I regularly took the train two hours from my apartment in Manhattan to Stony Brook, took classes, and returned with no problem.

4. The Size. It was one room, only big enough for a futon that doubled as a couch, a small table/desk, and a bookcase.

But my first apartment in West Hollywood was one room, with no bed, a built-in desk, and a microwave but no stove.

5. The Boyfriend. Troy was back Upstate, so every weekend I drove up to him, or he drove down to me. So half the weekends I was out of town. It's hard to maintain friendships or relationships that way.

In West Hollywood, I spent a semester in Turkey, and another in Nashville. Then I returned and started right back, with no awkwardness or lost connections.

6. The Lateness. The bars and bath houses catered to the after-midnight crowd. Go at 9:00 pm, and you could hear the crickets chirp. I had to get up at 6:00 am to get to work, and I was too tired to go out.

But I got up at 6:00 am my whole life, and I was never too tired to go out.

7. The Emptiness. West Hollywood, New York, and Florida had organizations for black, Asian, and Hispanic gay men, gay doctors, lawyers, fathers, runners, Methodists, Episcopalians, Catholics, Jews, gardeners, movie buffs, football fans, Republicans, Democrats, atheists, pagans...you name it. Philadelphia had a Community Center and some self-help groups.

In West Hollywood I belonged to some groups, but in New York and Florida I didn't. You could meet men anywhere.

8. The Heterosexuals. I lived right down the street from a straight bar with pictures of 1940's pin-up girls on the ceiling There were heterosexual couples in my building. I saw boy-girl couples on the street all the time.

There were heterosexuals in West Hollywood and New York, too. We always shared our community with a few daring yuppies and a few oldsters who had been living there since before the Flood.

9 The Twinks. There were a dozen gay bars, restaurants, and retail outlets within a few blocks of my apartment, all entirely occupied by twinks. I rarely saw a guy over 30, and almost never over 40. No matter where I went, I was the oldest person in the room.

But I was a twink magnet. All of those 20-year olds wanted to get with me.

Remember "Hey, Nineteen"?

No, we got nothing in common
No, we can't talk at all
[But] please take me along when you slide on down.

10. The Tourists. The streets were crowded with guys who drove in from small towns, to spend a few hours or a few days dancing, drinking, doing drugs, and hooking up. We had tourists in West Hollywood, San Francisco, the East Village, and Wilton Manors, especially on the weekends, but then they went home, leaving small towns populated by guys who were survivors, who had escaped from the homophobia of the straight world. We called it Oz and Heaven, walked around smiling, unable to believe, year after year, that we were finally home.

In 2012, the homophobia of even the most backwards of towns was nowhere near as fierce, and as universal, at the homophobia of 1982, 1992, or 2002.

You could come out to straight people without being lectured at, screamed at, or asked "What do they think causes it?"

You could come out at work without being instantly fired.

The sense of community, the belief that "we are all survivors" was gone.

It was just a neighborhood with a lot of gay people. It wasn't home.

The uncensored version of this post, with nude photos, is on Tales of West Hollywood.

Rock Island, June 30, 1978.

Exactly one week ago, I figured "it" out. My elation at finally solving the mystery, understanding who I am, has given way to depression. There are no books on gay topics in the library, no gay organizations, no meeting places except for a gay bar that I'm too young to go to.

And I can't tell anyone. Everyone thinks that gay people are either horrifying monsters or swishy jokes.

What do I do now?

My friend Aaron invites me to a Marx Brothers Film Festival held at the Augustana College Student Union: The Cocoanuts and Animal Crackers tonight, and Horse Feathers, Monkey Business, and Duck Soup tomorrow (this was before DVDs).

Jana, a girl I know from Rocky High, comes into the first screening. With the most beautiful guy I have ever seen. Greek or Italian, rather short, short black hair, sharp features, flawless skin. He is wearing a yellow tank top that displays his smooth chest and nicely bulging biceps. But no verbal description can do justice to his amazing confidence and energy. He is a Golden Boy.

"Who...who is that guy with Jana?" I ask, transfixed.

Naturally Aaron assumes that I'm interested in the girl. "Dunno. But I'm sure you have nothing to worry about. He looks like a college kid, so at the end of the summer, he's out of here!"

During intermission, I drag Aaron over and get an introduction. His name is Dino.

"Are you related to Dino []?" I ask.

"Uncle Dino? Sure. We don't see him much, though. He joined a crazy fundamentalist church, Nazarene or something, and decided that we were all possessed by demons."

"He was my Sunday School teacher at the Nazarene Church!"

His face falls. "Oh...um...I didn't mean..."

"That's ok, I know they're crazy fundamentalists. I've been trying to get out."

"No, no, I shouldn't have made that crack. Let me make it up to you. Come by Lagomarcino's tomorrow, and I'll fix you up with a box of candy. Your friend, too," he adds, glancing at Aaron.

"Are you working there for the summer?"

"Sort of. My grandpa owns it."

Moline, July 1st

The Lagomarcinos are one of the wealthiest families in the Quad Cities. They own several businesses, but they are best known for their landmark candy store in Moline, open since 1908. It sells ice cream cones and sodas, but mostly you go there for the fancy chocolates. (In 2015, one-pound assortments begin at $24, double the price of one-pound Whitman Samplers).

We arrive about 2:00 pm. Dino is working behind the counter, wearing a white apron, but still muscular, athletic, alive.

Before I can catch myself, I blurt out: "For someone who makes candy for a living, you have a really nice physique."

Dino smiles. "Thanks. I was on the swim team in high school, and I studied karate and boxing."

"Cool! Aaron and I used to go to the Davenport Athletic Club on Saturday afternoons to..." I catch myself before saying "to look at the cute guys."

"I worked out there when I was a kid. Tommy Campbell was the best!" (See Rock Island Boxers on Boomer Beefcake and Bonding).

"Maybe we saw you..."

"Probably." He pauses. "Hey, are you guys doing anything for the 4th? I'm having some guys over to see the fireworks -- Mom and Dad are in Europe. Our house is on River Drive [in Davenport], so you get a really good view from the front porch. We'll have some barbecue, drink some beers."

Who could turn down an offer like that?

Aaron could. "Can I bring a date?"

He looks confused. Does he think we're a gay couple? Are we a gay couple?

"It's guys only. We don't want any women messing up our fun, do we?"

The rest of the story, with nude photos, is on Tales of West Hollywood.

Today Shia LaBeouf stars in quirky independent movies, but in the early 2000s, he was the Disney Channel's Next Big Thing, given as much screen time as Simon and Milo music videos. He starred in two Disney Channel movies, Hounded (2001) and Tru Confessions (2002); he guest starred on The Proud Family and The Nightmare Room; he appeared on all of its reality programs, including Express Yourself, Movie Surfers, and Super Short Show.

And he starred in Even Stevens (2000-2003), about Louis Stevens, a mischievous middle-school boy who bedevils his upper-middle class Jewish family, especially his older sister Ren and older brother Donnie.

Not a big fan of the gay community, Shia Labeouf today is the source of casual heterosexism, makes casual homophobic comments, and punched a guy in the face for "accusing" him of being gay. But his Louis Stevens would probably be a strong ally. He is intensely girl-crazy, and gets a steady girlfriend by the third season, but he is surrounded by gay people.

His best friend, Twitty (A. J Trauth), is flamboyantly feminine, rarely expresses any interest in girls, and has an obvious crush on him.

A.J. Trauth's soft features and flamboyance prompted many real-life gay rumors, particularly when he was photographed wearing a t-shirt that read "Boy Toy." A boy toy is an attractive younger man who has sex with an older man in exchange for money and gifts.

But he is apparently heterosexual. Today he lives in Odessa, Texas and performs in the band Maven.

Ren has a gay-coded best friend, Nelson Minkler (Gary LeRoi Gray), who is prissy, intellectual, not interested in girls, and obviously interested in Louis' older brother, Donnie. After Even Stevens, he starred as a gay teenager in Noah's Arc: Jumping the Broom (2003), the film sequel of the Logo tv series about a group of gay black men.

Donnie Stevens (Nick Spano) is a bodybuilder who wanders around the house shirtless, providing ample beefcake. He also expresses no interest in girls; in one episode he states that he has "a date," but carefully avoids pronouns, to leave the question of his date's gender open. However, he is frequently seen with boys, and he has a particular interest in his coach (Tom Wise).

Prior to Even Stevens, Nick Spano played mostly muscular hunks who were required to take their shirts off, or everything off. He starred in two gay-themed movies, The Journey: Absolution (1997) with Mario Lopez, and Defying Gravity (1997). No word on whether he's gay or straight in real life.

With all of that gay-friendly talent and gay subtext, Shia must have felt rather uncomfortable on the set.

See also: Shia Labeouf's "Female Fans"

You're probably wondering, when I had my first sexual experience with Todd at music camp, the summer after my sophomore year in high school, how did I know what to do? After all, this was an era of utter silence, when everyone was unaware, or pretended to be unaware, that gay people existed. Or same-sex practices.

Preachers, teachers, parents, and peers talked about sex a lot, without defining it, and when I pressed them, they described a penis and a vagina, nothing else. Where did I get the idea to do other things?

I learned from our Nazarene Youth Minister.

The Preacher might be elderly, but the Youth Minister had to be young, cool, and attractive enough to keep kids interested. Ours was Brother Bob, fresh out of Olivet, in his early 20s, tall, with enormously broad shoulders, a barrel chest, and gigantic hands.

Unfortunately, I never saw him shirtless -- he always wore a suit and tie, the Nazarene equivalent of a clerical collar. But when I went down to the altar to get saved or sanctified, he came down and wrapped his huge hard arm around me, and I could feel his hard barrel chest against my back.

I never got a Sausage Sighting either. But you could hardly miss the gigantic Mortadella+ swinging around in his pants every time he moved. Particularly in NYPS, when we were kneeling to pray, and he walked from person to person to see if we needed help: his crotch was exactly at eye level. And at least once, when he hugged me after altar call, I felt it press against me like.

One Sunday night during the summer after ninth grade, I walked out into the parking lot during altar call to escape from the frenetic shouting, and saw Terry and Dave, twelfth grade best buddies, talking in the shadowy area by the church bus.

Dave was a member of church royalty, with perfectly cut black hair, perfect teeth, and an athletic physique. Last year I got a Sausage Sighting at summer camp: impressive, maybe a Bratwurst, cut.

Terry was slim, with dirty-blond hair almost too shaggy to meet Nazarene standards, an aspiring Gospel singer from an unsaved family who started coming to church last fall. He backslid every few weeks and had to go down to the altar again.

I didn't usually associate with twelfth graders -- the three year age gap seemed unbreachable. But I had to say "hello," or they might think I was spying on them.

"Twelve inches, easy!" Dave was saying. "Brother Bob's is bigger than Brother Dino's by a long shot. No way it's happening!"

The rest of the story is too risque for Boomer Beefcake and Bonding. You can read it on Tales of West Hollywood

Go to deviantart.com or one of the x-rated yaoi sites and do a keyword search for "Max Goof slash."

You'll find dozens of fan-produced pictures of the Disney character kissing a guy, hanging out in his underwear with his boyfriend, or having explicit sex with him.

His boyfriends include the portly P.J., 1980s-lingo-spouting slacker dude Bobby Zimeruski, and one of the 101 Dalmatians.

There are also pictures of Max having sex with women, but they are far outnumbered by the homoerotic pictures.

Apparently fans enjoy envisioning Max Goof as gay.

Ironically, the character appeared during the 1980s conservative retrenchment, when the cartoon characters of previous generations came under scrutiny. Quasi-romantic same-sex bonds, gender ambiguity, any hint of a potential gay subtext had to be erased. Sometimes they were transformed into children, but more often they were explicitly heterosexualized, given husbands, wives, and children.

So, in the tv series Goof Troop (1992-1996), Goofy, the gay-vague sidekick of Mickey Mouse in many Disney comic books, became a widower raising his 11-year old son, Max. Most of the episodes involved Max's embarrassment over his less-than-cool Dad.

The characters spun off into two movies with similar "embarrassed Max" plotlines.

A Goofy Movie (1995) has a teenage Max torn between going to a concert with the girl he likes, and going on a father-son fishing trip with Goofy.

In An Extremely Goofy Movie (2000), Max heads off to college, hoping to be rid of his less-than-cool Dad once and for all, only to discover that Goofy has enrolled along with him.

Both father and son have hetero-romantic plotlines.

In his last incarnation, the Disney Channel series House of Mouse (2001-2003), Max works as a valet at Mickey Mouse's nightclub.

It's not a very long pedigree, nor are there any major gay subtexts, but it still resonated with fans.

Maybe it's because Max is voiced by Jason Marsden, long-time gay ally and all-around hunk.

(All pictures borrowed from the artists on deviantart.com.)

See also: Jason Marsden, the Pocket Gay; Tijuana Bibles; and Gay Fan Art 2: Invader Zim

[Names and places in this story have been changed.]

In 1995 my parents and sister moved from Rock Island to a small town in southern Indiana.

Outside of Indianapolis and Bloomington, southern Indiana is deeply conservative. There are more fundamentalist churches than people. Billboards extoll "family values." Homophobic diatribes fill the letters section of the local newspapers.

So when I came for my annual Christmas and summer visits, I stayed mostly in the house, unless my parents dragged me out to a restaurant or antique store, or I got to drive up to the gay venues of Indianapolis.

In December 2007, on the way back to Dayton on Christmas Day, I stopped at the Works, a bath house with a fully equipped gym, a maze, a steam room, and several dark rooms for anonymous activity. It was surprisingly crowded -- I guess I'm not the only one experiencing angst or infinite boredom during holiday visits.

A young guy approached me in the maze: short brown hair, cute round face, smooth, not particularly muscular body. He looked a bit too young. Instead of touching his chest, the standard bath house ice-breaker, I asked "How old are you?"

He looked offended. "How old are you?"

"Ok. When was the first national election you voted in?"

"2000." So he was at least 25! "I voted for Al Gore for president, and David Johnson for senator. But Lugar won by a landslide. So, we gonna talk politics, or you gonna invite me back to your room??"

"Ok, you talked me into it. My name is Boomer."

Chatting afterwards, I discovered that he was 26 years old, he graduated from Indiana University with a history degree in 2002, and now he and his brother ran a storage company.

"Do you want to go back to my place," Jim asked, "Maybe get some dinner? I live a few miles out of town, but I'm up for having you spend the night."

"Sorry, I'm due in Dayton tomorrow morning."

"After New Year's, then? Come out for the weekend. I'd love to introduce you to my boyfriend."

Boyfriend?

He wrote down his address -- New Bern, a small town about thirty miles from my parents' house. We sometimes drove out to visit the antique shops. I wasn't impressed.

"I've been through New Bern!" I exclaimed. "Even more scary conservative than the rest of Southern Indiana. Full of gun stores and fundamentalist churches! How can you stand it? Don't you get crosses burnt on your front lawn?"

He smiled. "Oh, I manage. Come down next weekend, and we'll show you around."

On January 5th, I drove out to New Bern. Gun stores, fundamentalist churches, "Beads by Emily," a non-ironic 1950s diner, an old-fashioned barber shop. I could feel the waves of suspicion and hatred from the townsfolk.

Jim lived alone in a very nice two-story house near the outskirts of town: his back yard abutted a horse farm. Apparently running a storage company paid very well.

His boyfriend Calvin was a few years older, probably around thirty, and considerably more muscular, with a smooth hard chest and xylophone abs

He explained that he worked at one of those trendy clothing stores in the Mall in Greenwood, so he had to look good. Every day before work he spent two hours at the Y, pumping iron.

We had lunch in a Mexican restaurant where the ornate murals featured muscular, half-naked Aztecs meeting Cortez and his conquistadors, quite a refreshing bit of beefcake in the straight world.

Everyone seemed to know Jim and Calvin. The waiter gave us our drinks on the house, and two people came up to say hello. One had a lot to say about the upcoming ice-carving festival.

Then I got a tour of New Bern.

The high school where the students performed the gay-themed drama Angels in America.

The house where Emily of "Beads by Emily" lived with her "girlfriend."

A Lutheran church that was "welcoming," and had several open gay couples in the congregation.

All gay public employees, by the way, were protected by a non-discrimination policy.

Finally we went to the park where Jim used to watch Calvin playing baseball, before they started dating, when they knew each other only vaguely, the way guys in small towns do. Oblivious to passersby, they pulled each other into a kiss.

This was small town scary conservative Indiana?

"You guys are quite the civic boosters," I said. "Next you'll be telling me that you're members of the Rotary Club, Toastmasters, and the Chamber of Commerce."

"Close," Jim said, wrapping his arm around my shoulders. "I'm the mayor."

My head exploded.

"You said you run a storage company..."

"In a small town all elected offices are part time."

"You got elected mayor of a conservative small town at age 26...."

"He was 25," Calvin corrected me. "One of the youngest mayors in Indiana history, but not the youngest. That was a 23-year old up in...."

"And the gun-owning, fundamentalist townsfolk elected a gay guy?"

"Well, I'm not exactly out," Jim said. "I've never actually made a coming-out speech. I don't bring Calvin to official functions. But everybody in town sees us together all the time, and we never have girls around. The young people don't care, and the older ones pretend not to notice."

In ultra-conservative small-town Indiana?

"There are homophobes here," Calvin added. "Bible-thumping preachers and in-bred rednecks and the like. But you get those everywhere. I bet you even got them out in West Hollywood."

I didn't "date" Jim and Calvin again, but it was nice to know they were there.

By the way, the first "openly" gay mayor in Indiana is Pete Buttigieg of South Bend, who came out during his first term in June 2015, and was elected for a second term with 80% of the votes. Apparently his being gay was less controversial than his plan to return two-way traffic to one-way Michigan Street.

The uncensored story, with sexual content and nude photos, is on Tales of West Hollywood.

Alan the ex-porn star returned to West Hollywood in late May 1988, having failed to start gay Pentecostal churches in Japan and Thailand. Always optimistic, he planned to try again -- this time in France.

So he spent the summer garbling his high school French to everyone in earshot and listening to annoying French pop songs.

Meanwhile, my ex-boyfriend Fred accepted the offer to attend the Claremont School of Theology, in spite of the objections of his Cute Young Thing (real name: Matt). They moved to California in July 1988, and found an apartment in Pomona.

I hadn't noticed before, but Alan and Fred came from similar backgrounds, had similar personalities, and had similar physiques (tall, buffed, gifted where it counts). They were both infinitely attractive to Cute Young Things. What would happen, I wondered, when they met?

Would they become arch-nemeses, like Superman and Lex Luther? Would the world explode?

One way to find out:

In July 1988 I invited them over for dinner: Alan and his new boyfriend Jin, Fred and Matt, and my sort-of ex Raul. I made chicken a l'orange, asparagus, and garlic bread, and Raul brought over some kind of flan for dessert.

They were both perfectly polite during dinner, neither argumentative nor cruisy. We discussed Hollywood, Barney Frank, my doctoral dissertation, Raul's new job, Who Framed Roger Rabbit, Married...with Children, and our coming out stories (in 1988, gay men always told their coming out stories to every new person they met).

So far so good. Then we sat down to watch a movie I rented (in 1988, watching movies at home was a new, exciting experience, the focus of many parties).

Then it began: "I'm moving to France next month," Alan announced, "To start a gay Pentecostal church."

"Aren't they mostly Catholic?" Fred asked.

"That's why God called me there. 57 million people means 6 million gay people who need the Lord."

"So...you don't think that Roman Catholicism is a legitimate spiritual path?"

"Of course not. It's all about going through intermediaries, like the Pope. You need a personal relationship with Christ."

"Hey, I teach at a Catholic college!" I protested (I was an adjunct at Loyola Marymount College). They ignored me to argue about universalism.

And revelation, incarnation, glossolalia, eschatology, exegesis, while the rest of us tried to watch the movie. Jin and Matt looked bored, cruised each other, and eventually vanished into one of the bedrooms.

"Hey, your boyfriends are making it!" I exclaimed. But Alan and Fred didn't care (in 1988, "sharing" one's boyfriend was commonplace). They kept disputing and exhorting and contextualizing.

The movie ended. It was time to go. In 1988, parties in West Hollywood traditionally ended with everyone::
1. Going to the bars; or
2. Pairing off and going to the bedrooms..

But they kept theologizing and philosophizing.

So I tried my ace in the hole. Alan had been trying unsuccessfully to trick with Raul for years, so I sent Raul over to gently squeeze his thigh.

That worked!

Alan got flushed and tongue-tied, and tried to grope Raul. Then he said, "It's about time I tracked down Jin."

They both stood, and Fred put his arm around his waist. "I'll go with you." He stopped half way up the stairs, turned, and grinned. "Thanks for a great party, Boomer and Raul! See you in the morning!"

Many theological disputes can be solved in a bedroom.

This is why I don't read science fiction anymore.

Amazon was aggressively pushing the graphic novel Chrononauts at me. It's about a big, buffed, square-jawed scientist named Corbin Quinn, who gets lost in time, and his big, buffed buddy, Danny Reilly, goes out looking for him. Sort of a Time Tunnel thing.

I read the reviews very carefully. "Jaw-dropping!""Magnificent!""Breaktaking!""Big and fun!"

"A bromance for the ages!"

I searched for the authors, Mark Millar and Sean Gordon Murphy, with the keyword "gay." Mark Millar included gay characters in his comic books The Authority and Jupiter's Circle, and celebrated the Supreme Court decision on marriage equality by offering fans free downloads.

Ok. I clicked on "buy." Chrononauts arrived yesterday.

Quinn and Reilly are indeed bromantic partners. They are constantly hugging and putting their arms around each other's waists and shoulders. They rescue each other from danger. When one exclaims "Leave me and escape while you can!" the other refuses. "I won't go without you!" They call each other "companions,"

But they are also heterosexual. Boy oh boy, are they heterosexual!

Why do they want to go on the time travel mission? Scientific curiosity? Adventure? No - girls: "You'll be banging every co-ed from here to Timbuktu."

Meanwhile Reilly is in love with a woman, and Quinn has an estranged wife. He wants to stay unstuck in time because he has nothing to live for in the present: "No wife, no family." But to assuage his pain, he's been dating women from a dozen time periods, including Marilyn Monroe. He needs a chart to keep track of them all.

At the end of the story, Quinn uses his time travel ability to go back and be a better husband, so when he returns to the present, she and their child are waiting for them: Unfortunately, when Reilly proposes to his girlfriend, she is already married due to time distortion.

Girls, girls, girls, as the goal of every journey!

Heterosexual romance as the meaning of life!

I did all the research I could, and still got caught in a firestorm of frenzied heterosexism.

I don't read science fiction anymore.

See also: Time Tunnel.

Your high school drama club won't be performing What the Butler Saw (1969) anytime soon. 45 years after it opened, the play by gay playwright Joe Orton is still scandalous, homoerotic, and very funny.

There's no butler in What the Butler Saw. The phrase comes from a British divorce case in 1886, in which a butler peered through a keyhole to see his employer having an adulterous affair in the dining room. It became a catchphrase for risque sex.

There's no sex in What the Butler Saw, either. But there's a lot of discussion of sex. It's a spoof of the 1960s medicalization of sexuality, "normal" heterosexual monogamy against "sick" perversions. Lots of them.

A psychiatrist, Dr. Prentice, tries to seduce Geraldine, who is interviewing for a job as a secretary. His wife, Mrs. Prentice, has promised the job to her lover (and blackmailer), the bellhop Nicholas.

Nicholas and Geraldine end up switching clothes.

A government inspector and a police officer arrive.

There's crossdressing, incest, mistaken identities, homoeroticism, nudity (if the production is particularly daring, full frontal nudity), and Winston Churchill's penis. What more could you want in an evening at the theater?

Since Nicholas Beckett spends most of the play in his underwear, he must be played by an actor of substantial hotness: Hayward Morse in the original production, David Tennent (the star of Blackpool), Nick Hendrix (top photo), Parry Glasspool, and Ewan McGregor (left).

It's been filmed once, a 1987 BBC adaption starring Tyler Butterworth as Nicholas.

If you can't find a stage performance, there's always a print version.

Sioux City, South Dakota, August 2014

I have always been attracted to Native American men, but I rarely meet any. So, when I moved to the Plains, home to some of the biggest tribes in the U.S., I started going to pow wows.

I wandered the stalls where they sold embroidery, jewelry, capes, books, and artwork, as well as scary conservative political slogans. Many Native Americans are hard-core Republicans.

I ate fry bread, "Indian tacos," corndogs, or the healthiest alternatives I could find.

I listened to long speeches and watched processions, dances, and ceremonies.

There were a lot of cute guys around, but none of them cruised me. They barely made eye contact.

I figured that Wacipis were mainly for connectiong with your cultural heritage and socializing with Indians from other parts of the country. Outsiders were welcome, but meeting them was not a big priority.

Well, I'm Indian, sort of. My father was adopted into the Potawatomi tribe, so I had Indian cousins and a grandmother, and my mother traces her ancestry back to Charles Renatus Hicks (1767-1827), an important Cherokee chief.

So I bought a t-shirt reading "Ask me about my tribe" and went undercover.

I got more eye contact and smiles when I wore my tribal t-shirt, and even a cruisy gaze from a hot teenage dancer, but I managed only a few very brief conversations.

Maybe everyone was too busy to meet new people.

Or else too attached to mothers and fathers, wives, cousins, and friends to respond to a same-sex cruise.

Wacipis are very family friendly (read: gay people erased and ignored).

One day in August 2014, at a pow wow in Sioux City, South Dakota, I stopped by a booth that advertised "Five Cousins Roshineers."

Roshineers is Midwestern for "roasting ears," roasted corn on the cob eaten as a snack.

There were only three cousins at the booth, two young teenagers and a very muscular twink with black hair and a smooth brown chest. His t-shirt said Tyler.

"Where are the other cousins?" I asked after ordering my corn.

"There's actually only four of us now," Tyler told me, pausing to wipe his brow. His t-shirt was damp with sweat. "The fifth, that's my brother Deacon, he started the business, but he got a job in Minneapolis, you know, and can't do it anymore. I'll probably drop out when I get out of college, too."

"Oh, you're in college!" I exclaimed. "Where do you go?"

"Northern State in Aberdeen, right near Lake Travers, home of the Sisseton Dakota nation, you know."

He must have grown up on the reservation!

"What are you majoring in?" I asked, trying to keep up the conversation going.

"Geology. But I'm minoring in American Indian Studies, and I'm on the wrestling team. Want to see a picture?"

He pulled out his smartphone and showed me a picture of his hands on his opponent's crotch.

"Nice." I saw my opening. "You have quite a physique. I used to work for Muscle and Fitness magazine in L.A, and I met all the bodybuilding greats -- Schwarzenegger, Ferrigno, Hanley."

His eyes lit up. "Really? Hey, do you think you could check out my form sometime?"

"Sure -- is today good?"

"Well, I'm a little busy today. Tell you what -- come on out to the college -- it's right near the rez, you know -- and I'll give you the grand tour. Let me call you, so you have my cell phone number, right?"

He sent me a nude selfie!

Aberdeen, South Dakota, September 2014

I drove out to Aberdeen, rented a hotel room, and met Tyler for the "grand tour." A small but very scenic campus, a small, seedy looking downtown. We had lunch at a place called Daddy's Bar and Grill -- way to remind me of our age difference! I talked about growing up in the small-town Midwest, figuring "it" out, my years at Muscle and Fitness, working at Barney's Gym in Florida.

"You know so many bodybuilders!" he said. "Are all of them gay?"

"Not all, but quite a few. What about here at Northern State? A lot of gay guys?"

"No, man. If they are, they're closeted. And homophobic. That's what I like about Indians -- you're open. You don't care if someone likes guys or girls or both. Have you heard about the two-souls?"

We spent the night in my room, and in the morning said goodbye.

"Thanks for spending time with me," he said. "So many Indians are into older guys, I didn't think you'd want a kid."

"Kids have their advantages." Suddenly it dawned on me. "Wait -- do you mean that you'renot Indian?"

"Me?" Tyler laughed. "Thanks for the compliment, but I'm German. But I'm way into Indians. That's one of the perks of working the pow wows, right? I get to meet a lot of rez boys."

The full post, with nude photos and a description of the sexual encounter, is on Tales of West Hollywood.

One night in the spring of 1997, around 11:00 pm, I got a phone call out of nowhere.

"It's Matt -- I'm at the Castro Street Muni Station. Come pick me up!"

Matt the Cute Young Thing?

Nine years before, my college boyfriend Fred moved to Pomona, California, about an hour's drive from West Hollywood, to study at the Claremont School of Theology.

He brought Matt, 23 years old -- a scandalous age difference!

Plus Matt was an ultra-elitist graduate of the Andover Academy and Harvard University.

Plus he gossiped about everybody and everything, providing the weird voices.

Then Beau told his "Uncle," wink wink, "Be sure that yo' get mah new underweah in extra-extra-extra lahge."

In the bedroom...well, never mind.

I don't know what Fred saw in him, except that he was rather cute and had a Bratwurst beneath the belt.

In 1995, Fred took a job in Fresno, about three hours away from San Francisco.

"This town is so drearyo!" Matt often said. "And you're living in the heart of gay Heaven, Paradis."

In retrospect, I should have seen it coming.

I picked up Matt and his backpack at Castro Street Station and took him to Orphan Andy's for a hamburger. He was 32 years old, no longer a Cute Young Thing, but quite buffed from hours at the gym.

"Fred and I are kaput! Over! I caught him having sex with a kid in the youth group. I'm all for sharing, but en cachette? And I'm pretty sure the kid is underaged!"

"Well, you should at least hear his side of the story."

"No, I've had it. J'ai trop mangé! This isn't the first time, mind you, but I've put up with it because of my misguided sense of loyalty. But no more."

We returned to my cramped third-floor walk-up, over a hardware store, which he criticized as "impossibly bourgeois" and "a downscale dump," and spent the night.

It was my first time with Matt without Fred being there. He still...well, never mind.

This story is too risque to continue You can read the rest, and see the nude photos, on Tales of West Hollywood.

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 (no matter who has it), 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.

Fort Lauderdale, April 2002

I dragged Barney to the Parker Playhouse in Fort Lauderdale to see The Tempest. the Shakespeare play about an aging magician on a desert island. Playing Stefano, the King's butler, was an actor named Sean Stuart: mid 20s, slim, with light brown hair, a round face, and a very bulgeworthy leotard.

I never approached an actor backstage for a dressing-room flirtation before, but my friend Dick, back in Rock Island, did it last fall, and last Christmas he announced that they were a couple. Emboldened, I went backstage amid the other well-wishers, walked past the actors who played Prospero, Ariel, and Caliban, and congratulated Sean on his performance.

"I studied Shakespeare in grad school," I said, not the best opening. "I was going to do my thesis on gay subtexts in The Tempest...."

The unmistakable twink eye-widening. An invitation to a late dinner. Sean suggested the Quarterdeck, a seafood chain restaurant nearby.

Barney wasn't interested in Sean -- his taste in men went to the older bodybuilder types. But he had a rule -- when you go out together, you stay together, no matter what. So he agreed to "share," if I could seal the deal.

"You're probably wondering why I changed my name," Sean said as we sat down. "It's to avoid all the gushing fans who saw me on tv. I got really tired of people coming up all starry eyed, like 'Oh, I had such a crush on you when I was a kid.' That's why I like going out with older guys -- you play it cool."

Barney and I exchanged mystified glances. We had no idea who this guy was. But in order to seal the deal, I had to pretend to be a fan.

"I lived in L.A. for ten years," I told him. "I'm used to celebrities. I've been out with Michael J. Fox, Richard Dreyfuss, Peter Barton..."

His eyes glazed over. I was losing him. These guys were not of interest to a 25 year old.
"Don't forget Nate Richert," Barney added. "Harvey on Sabrina the Teenage Witch."

"Melissa Joan Hart!" Sean exclaimed. "Such a diva! And not all that gay-friendly, if you want to know. Actually, Nickelodeon studios was a bit on the homophobic side when I was working there. Look at Kricfalusi on Ren and Stimpy."

These were all clues! Today I would just pull out my Smartphone and look up whatever vehicle Melissa Joan Hart was in during the 1990s, but in 2002 I just smiled and nodded.

"So, you've made a new career for yourself on the stage," Barney offered, trying to help me change the subject.

But Sean would have none of it. "Some of the writers tried to add some gay hints. Remember the time I got a crush on a rich kid? And Ferguson -- definitely gay, am I right? Jason and I still hang out sometimes. He's straight but cool."

Ferguson? Jason? I tried desperately to think of what Nickelodeon tv shows I had seen in the 1990s. Rocko's Modern Life, Ren and Stimpy, Are You Afraid of the Dark, Rugrats, The Adventures of Pete and Pete....

"I always thought the older brother on Pete and Pete was cute..."

"Straight, though. You want to know who's gay? Tim Eyster, Sponge on Salute Your Shorts. We dated a little, but it had to be on the sly, you know. If the studio found out, we would have both been fired."

For a guy who didn't like to be surrounded by gushing fans, Sean talked about his tv series a lot!

"So, Ariel in The Tempest is often played as gay..."

"Did you think Sam had a sort of gay ambience? I tried to play him that way, in spite of the scripts making me girl-crazy."

The check came, and with it blessed relief. "We should get together again," I said. "Tomorrow night?" That would give me a chance to do some research on Sean's famous tv show.

He grabbed my knee under the table. "What's wrong with tonight?"

Well, at least he'd have to shut up during bedroom activities.

The moment Sean fell asleep in Barney's arms, I rushed to my room, turned on my computer, and googled Melissa Joan Hart, Jason, and Ferguson.

I found Clarissa Explains It All, which aired on Nickelodeon from 1991 to 1994, about a junior high girl (Melissa Joan Hart) who addresses the camera to explain tween problems like acne and book reports. She had a bratty little brother, Ferguson (Jason Zimbler), and a skateboarding best friend, Sam (Sean O'Neil).

Sean O'Neil was born on November 29, 1977, and grew up in Orlando, Florida. He sang in a boy band before going to work on the series. When it ended, he majored in theater arts in college. He had two voice-over credits on his film resume, but not much else. Apparently he had moved into the theater.

I went back to bed.

In the morning we had breakfast and discussed Clarissa some more, and then sent Sean on his way.

Later I began to wonder if Sean Stuart was putting us on, not really the guy from Clarissa at all. It doesn't make sense to change your name to avoid fans -- you want fans to come to your performances. In West Hollywood was commonplace for guys to try to increase their desirability by claiming to have been in a popular tv show or movie, where they worked with someone famous (and usually dated them).

But claiming to have been in such a minor tv show, and to have dated a guy from another minor tv show?

If I was going to make something up, I'd claim to have been on Beverly Hills, 90210 and dated Jason Priestley.

It's been over a decade, and I'm still not sure.

Here's a picture of Sean O'Neil today. What do you think?

The uncensored post, with nude photos, is on Tales of West Hollywood.

Fresh from his tenure on Happy Days, Scott Baio made a dent in the"servant saves dysfunctional family" genre with Charles in Charge (1984-85), about a college student who works as a male nanny, a surprisingly gender-bending role for 1984.

Willie Aames, who had starred with Scott in the teen sex comedy Zapped! (1982), would play his girl-crazy best friend Buddy.

Charles' rather disturbed charges would include painfully shy teenager Lila (15-year old April Lerman), tween mad scientist Douglas (14-year old Jonathan Ward), and preteen juvenile delinquent Jason (Michael Pearlman).

Charles himself would be rather nerdy, fond of suspenders, ties, and shirts buttoned all the way up. To preclude any gay suspicions, he would have a steady girlfriend, Gwendolyn (Jennifer Runyon), and Buddy would be indefatigably girl-crazy.

Charles in Charge premiered on October 3, 1984 in a block with John Stamos' teen-oriented sitcom Dreams. There were a few things to like about it, like Jason's blatant crush on Charles. But the teens who were expecting a hot teen idol stayed away, and the adults were busy watching The Fall Guy and Highway to Heaven, so the show tanked after 22 episodes.

A retooled Charles in Charge appeared in first-run syndication on January 3rd, 1987. Lots of retooling:

1. The theme song was revamped to sound sexy and risque ("I want...ooh...I want Charles in charge of me!").

2. Charles was now a collegiate hunk, with an updated wardrobe, when he wasn't wandering around the house in a towel (or a hot dog suit). A Charles-of-all-trades, he supplemented his nanny income by working as a teaching assistant at the college, and at the local pizza parlor hangout.

3. Buddy's girl-craziness likewise faded away; he became a dimwit instead.

4. There were strong adult characters, grumpy Walter Powell (James T. Callahan) and Charles' mother Lilian (Ellen Travolta).

5. And Charles' new charges, the Pembrokes, were not at all dysfunctional: glamorous future model Jamie (14-year old Nicole Eggert), bookish future writer Sarah (13-year old Josie Davis), and preteen athlete Adam (12-year old Alexander Polinsky). Justin Whalen played Cousin Anthony.

This time teen viewers took notice, and Charles quickly becoming the #1 syndicated program on the air (Mama's Familywas a close second). It lasted until 1990, and inspired a whole genre of beefcake-heavy 1990s teencoms.

Of the three kids in the first incarnation of Charles, only Jonathan Ward had a significant acting career as a teenager. He starred in the "boys alone" drama White Water Summer with Sean Astin (1987) and in the E.T. ripoff Mac and Me (1988), plus his own "my secret" teencom, The New Adventures of Beans Baxter (1987). In 1994, he wrote and starred in a Discovery Channel documentary, Understanding Sex.

Of the three kids in the second incarnation, both Nicole Eggert and Josie Davis went on to successful acting careers. Alexander Polinsky does voice-over work and is involved behind-the-scenes in model construction.

See also: The Sound of Music

You already know the most homophobic contemporary movie -- Chuck and Buck, the savagely homophobic "comedy" by Mike White.

Outside of Fox's animated sitcoms, TV series tend to go for erasing gay people from existence rather than excoriating them, but I found an exception. Excoriations of gay people week after week for six years.

It's The Shield (2002-2008), a police drama set in contemporary Los Angeles.

Contemporary?

In the real L.A. in the 2000s, there were gay police offices. The LAPD advertised for recruits at gay pride festivals. Police cadets got training in LGBT issues.

But on The Shield, all of the cops are intensely homophobic. "Queers" and "fags" drop from their lips every five seconds, along with the usual heterosexism that we find everywhere on tv.

The key character, Detective Vic Mackey (Michael Chiklis) is a blustering homophobe -- but so is everybody, so not a problem. But he is also boorish, stupid, vulgar, racist, sexist, violent, corrupt, and unfamiliar with the concept of "due process."

Oh, he loves his wife and kids -- so much so that when they leave him and go into hiding, fearing for their safety, he pays private investigators $20,000 to track them down. Then he bursts in and starts yelling.

I guess that's supposed to be positive?

One of his nemeses is detective "Dutch" Wagenbach (Jay Karnes), who's actually intelligent and therefore the butt of constant jokes. He grinds my gears by offering far-out psychoanalytic interpretations of every suspect, proclaiming that he "studied criminology."

Um...criminology doesn't teach you that nonsense.

But even Dutch is a first rate homophobe. He asks, "What do they think causes people to be queer? Is it biological, so they can't help themselves. And if so, should we condemn them?"

Who's condemning them, Dutch? I suppose the writers' perception of the intended audience as homophobic.

Criminals are homophobic too -- way homophobic.

There are occasional gay characters -- swishy queens who all have AIDS.
"Are you sure he has AIDS?"
"Just look at him."

One of the cops, Julian Lowe (Michael Jace), happens to be gay. Completely angst-ridden, overcome by guilt: it's a terrible urge inside him that he hates and can't get rid of.

He participates in a brutal gay-bashing with his fellow cops, tries to commit suicide, then tries to become "ex gay" through prayer and sex with a woman.

Oh, and he's also being blackmailed -- Vic is threatening to reveal his gayness to the precinct, where he will certainly be fired in disgrace.

Um...anti-discrimination laws for police officers have been in place in L.A. for 30 years.

By the way, the cops are uniformly racist, too. When a Muslim asks why he is a suspect when he hasn't done anything, he is told: "Because a group of men who look like your twin brothers killed 3,000 Americans."

Um...there are Muslim Americans....

Even though I can't find shirtless shots of the regulars, there is a lot of beefcake on the show. Criminals -- mostly drug dealers and gang bangers, with an occasional serial killer thrown in -- are often shown lounging around shirtless or in their underwear. Danny Pino, a drug dealer that Vic extorts and then kills, always finds a way to cover up the bulge in his black briefs.

But, really, a precinct full of racist, sexist, homophobic jerks -- who writes this stuff?

Ok, it was created by Shawn Ryan, who was born in 1966 and grew up in Chicago, and was a staff writer on Nash Bridges and Angel. In an interview, he said that the "Boys in the Bar" episode of Cheers, in which the bargoers recoil in homophobic horror from two guys that they think are gay, influenced how he "thought about homosexuals."

Homosexuals? Is this, like, 1973?

On The Shield, it is.

See also: Chuck and Buck.

West Hollywood, July 1988

"Ok, do you guys want to pick at ice cream like little sissy girls, or do you want to EAT?" Alan asks.

If you say EAT, you get six scoops "for starters."

We're at a barbecue at Derek's house near Sunset Boulevard. About 10 of us, including Fred, Matt, Raul, Marcus, and Will the Bondage Boy, are swapping our best stories about disastrous dates, gigantic penises, or hookups with celebrities. Now it's time for dessert, and Alan's turn:

"I'm going to tell you about the time I was arrested."

This should be good. Alan does everything BIG. A Pentecostal theology student turned porn star turned English teacher, he is exuberant, effervescent, full of crazy schemes. He says whatever pops into his head, does whatever he wants without considering the consequences. It's not hard to imagine a lot of circumstances where he would draw the wrath of the heterosexual police state.

"Better yet, I'll tell you about three incidents, and you have to decide which resulted in my arrest. They all happened in the early 1980s, before any of you met me."

"What do we win if we get the right answer?" Raul asks.

"Twenty minutes alone in the bedroom with me."

We glance at each other and grin. Alan is very big beneath the belt,

#1: The Vice Cop

Alan didn't approve of public cruising -- not because of any immorality in anonymous contacts, because it was dangerous. Undercover cops were everywhere, waiting to haul in "perverts" on "lewd conduct" charges, even if they did nothing but talk.

One day Alan and his friends had a picnic in Griffith Park, and he decided to go on a hike. A cute guy cruised him. In his thirties, with blond curly hair and a smooth chest -- well, who wouldn't follow him into the woods? No way a vice cop would be prowling this far from a gay neighborhood!

They found a secluded spot. The cute guy unzipped Alan's pants and fondled him.

Then he flashed a badge. "LAPD Vice,"

I go into the kitchen and bring Alan another soda. Obviously the contest is over -- this must be the one.

#2: The Gay Basher

In the early 1980s, before people knew about AIDS, "tricking" was commonplace -- you went out to the bars, met someone, and brought him home that night, without waiting for a date or introducing him to your friends or anything.

One night at the Gold Coast Alan met a truck driver -- in his 30s, very tall and muscular, with a beard and a hairy chest. Alan usually preferred soft and smooth -- but what a bulge!

The guy said "I want take you home and pound you!" Alan was not usually into anal sex, but he figured, the guy was hot, why not?

They went back to Alan's apartment. When they walked in the door, Alan drew him in for a kiss. The guy called him a "f*king faggot", and punched him in the face.

Alan sprang back in shock, and the guy was on top of him, punching and kicking and yelling "f*king faggot."

"More ice cream?" Alan asks. "I brought lots."

#3: Staying After Class

Every high school teacher and college professor knows that male students often get aroused in the classroom. You're supposed to pretend that you don't notice. But Alan doesn't pretend.

He was so cute! 18 years old, tall, slim, Hispanic, a little feminine, with thick black hair -- and what a bulge! He had a Mortadella, easily. And he was aroused, right in the middle of the lecture.

Alan leaned down and whispered in his ear, "Do you want to go to the bathroom and take care of that?"

The boy blushed and shook his head. But after school he came back to "talk about his grade." His bulge returned. So did Alan's.

The school was empty except for some kids doing after-school activities and the the janitor making his rounds. So they did it right at his desk!

"Ding, ding!" Alan exclaims. "Write your answer on a slip of paper, and I'll tally the results."

Most guys guess The Vice Cop. I mean, come on, the guy flashed his badge!

"No," Alan says. "He let me off with a warning -- after we had sex! He was on a power trip -- he got off on intimidating guys."

Some guess Staying After Class. Sex with one of your students, right in the classroom! Who cared that he was of legal age -- the police would have a field day!

"No," Alan says, "We hooked up after class several times. We're still in contact -- he went to UC Santa Cruz, majored in philosophy."

Only Will the Bondage Boy, who has never met Alan before, guesses The Gay Basher. "You look like you can take care of yourself," he says. "I bet the basher ended up in the hospital, and that didn't sit well with the straights."

"Precisely!" Alan exclaims. "He got a broken nose and three broken ribs. My crazy roommate called the police, and of course they arrested me for 'enticing' a poor innocent straight boy."

So Will and Alan go into the bedroom for 20 minutes. They don't tell us what happened there. Probably something like this.

The uncensored story, with nude photos, is on Tales of West Hollywood.

While Magnum and Buck Rogers were grunting and posing, Gregory Harrison was quietly making a name for himself on Trapper John, MD (1979-86) as Gonzo Gates, the irreverent surgeon who lived in a trailer (don't surgeons make a steady income?) and sunned himself semi-nude in the hospital parking lot. Lot of beefcake, some minimal buddy-bonding, and two "gay episodes":

In 1981, a swishy gay guy named Judy is hospitalized after a hate crime (they called it "gay bashing" back then). All gay men are drag queens, I get it. But at least all drag queens aren't homicidal maniacs; Judy turns out to be nice.

And in 1985, one of Nurse Libby's old boyfriends turns out to be gay and have AIDS -- the third AIDS-centered episode on network television.

Gregory Harrison is no stranger to beefcake. In 1973, he played one of a group of students who romp around nude in The Harrad Experiment, along with Don Johnson, and during the 1970s (and 1980s and 1990s), he was often asked to appear shirtless in his tv and movie appearances, not to mention Battle of the Network Stars.

But in 1981 he went all the way (or as far as the censors would allow), playing an aspiring actor who becomes a stripper in For Ladies Only. In spite of the heterosexist title, he got many gay fans and write-ups in gay magazines like Christopher Street.

Nor is he a stranger to bonding. In North Shore (1987), he plays Chandler, an experienced surfer who lives on the North Shore of Hawaii and begins a buddy-bonding romance with Arizona transplant Rich (Matt Adler, right). In Red River (1988), he plays Cherry Valance, who buddy-bonds with Matthew Garth (Bruce Boxleiter) during a cattle drive.

Greg has always been quick to acknowledge his gay male fans. In an interview, he estimated that about a third of his fan emails are about his role in the gay-angst movie It's My Party (1996), in which a gay man with AIDS invites his friends to a party, after which he will commit suicide.

He has also toured as Billy Flynn in the gay favorite Chicago.

Wilton Manors, June 2004

"I've found him!" Kelly exclaimed over the telephone. "The One! We've only had one date, but that's enough to know!"

Kelly was one of the fitness trainers Barney's Gym: in his 30s, about Yuri's height, with a long face, brown hair, good biceps and excellent abs and a smooth, less-than-spectacular chest. Beneath the belt he was average, cut, with shaved pubes. Somewhat shy and quiet, one of those high-school nerds who found self-confidence at the gym.

He was primarily interested in big guys -- big in every way possible. Fat, no problem. Superchub, even better.

His dream guy was fat, young, smooth, and supersized beneath the belt.

Not easy to find! In Florida, where the beach is a few blocks away and guys wear next to nothing year round, the Wilton Manors norm was heavily muscled with 3% body fat. Husky guys were uncommon, and fat rather rare. Young fat guys practically unheard of.

And for whatever reason, fat guys tend to be a a little small beneath the belt.

So who was this Tobias, the Man of Kelly's dreams?

On the night of their third date, they came over for dinner so Kelly could introduce him to his friends: Barney, Yuri, his boyfriend Jim, another fitness trainer, me, and Wade the Beach Boy. Yuri made his famous moussaka.

Tobias was in his 20s, tall, chubby, with a smooth chest, employed as a bartender at a hotel near the beach. Obviously smitten by Kelly: he kept his arm around him the whole evening.

But I was turned off by his greasy slicked-back hair, tattoos, rings, and unattractive leer.

And his speech, littered with profanity: "Little Kelly here, he's the best f*king lay in the business! Holy f*k!"

And the fact that he had been in prison: "There was a little queen at Kissimmee [juvenile detention center] that was on his knees every night, I kid you not!"

The rest of the story is too risque for Boomer Beefcake and Bonding. You can read it on "Tales of West Hollywood."

When I was living in West Hollywood during the 1980s, we didn't go to movies much, due to the rampant homophobia. Nearly every movie featured a discussion of how much the main characters hated gay people. In Teen Wolf, Michael J. Fox protests that he's not a "fag." In American Werewolf in London, David Naughton calls Prince Charles "a fag." In Breakfast Club, Judd Nelson writes a warning on his school locker: "Keep out, fags."

But in spite of the homophobia, there was a lot of beefcake. Men took off their shirts regularly, in frat houses, swimming pools, locker rooms, on wilderness treks. Some famous, others obscure. Here are 10 forgotten beefcake boys, actors who surprised us by displaying impressive physiques in one or two movies, and and then vanished.

Or at least never took off their clothes again.

1. Dan Shor talking to his dad nude in Strange Behavior (1981).

2. Anthony Edwards (above) stripped down to his rather impressive underwear by customs agents in Gotcha (1985).

3, Ilan Mitchell-Smith, now a history professor, in underwear in Weird Science (1985). Also starring a semi-nude Michael Anthony Hall and a bare-butt Bill Paxton.

4. Kevin Van Hentenryck running down the street naked in Basket Case (1982).

5. Don Michael Paul (left) in The Brotherhood of Justice (1986).

6. Jsu Garcia, killed while naked in Nightmare on Elm Street (1984).

7. Robert Bryan Wilson as a muscular, naked killer in Silent Night, Deadly Night (1984)

8. The super-muscular Anthony Starke in Return of the Killer Tomatoes (1988). You heard me.

9. Keith Gordon (right) as a college swimmer embarrassed by his dad, Rodney Dangerfield, in Back to School (1986).

10. William Zabka (left) as Chas in Back to School. He also played a shirtless bully in Karate Kid (1984, 1986)

11-12. Tom Hodges and Jeremy Piven as locker-room bullies in Lucas (1986), the guys Corey Haim refers to as "fags."

See also: Gay Nerds of the 1980s

Marky Mark and the Funky Bunch

My Terrible Year in Philadelphia

A Nude Party with the Golden Boy and His Buddies

Even Stevens: Shia Labeouf's Gay Subtext Teencom

I Find Out about Sex in the Church Parking Lot

Gay Fan Art 1: Max Goof

My Date with the Teen Mayor

Summer 1988: A Preacher, a Porn Star, and Two Cute Young Things

Chrononauts: Sometimes Buddy-Bonding Is Not Enough

What the Butler Saw: Crossdressing, Nudity, and Churchill's Penis

I Hook Up with a Dakota Boy, Sort of

Spring 1997: How Matt Started Renting Himself Out

The Homophobic Gay Ally of "The War at Home"

My Date with the Nickelodeon Star

Charles in Charge: The First Teencom

The Shield: TV From the 2000s, Homophobia from the 1960s

Alan's Arrests: The Vice Cop, the Gay Basher, or the High School Boy?

Gregory Harrison: Not For Ladies Only

The Beach Boy and the "Fag"

12 Forgotten Beefcake Boys of the 1980s