I'm back in West Hollywood to see my old friends and visit my old haunts. Tonight I'm having dinner in Orange County with my ex Lane and his husband Ben, plus four of their Orange County married gay friends and Dylan, who I met at Infinite Chazz's last night, as my date.
Soon I realize that there will be no nude party games or "sharing" tonight. Lane and Ben and their friends are all in their 60s, conservative, assimilated, monogamous.
Even the dinner conversation is conservative, assimilated, and monogamous. A daughter is getting married. A son has a new job in Tucson. A new deck added to the house. Does Home Depot have a better selection of lawn mowers than Lowe's?
This is like Thanksgiving Dinner with my northern Indiana relatives, right down to the disapproval of every decision I've ever made. Why did I leave California for a doctorate? Why did I pick such a useless field of study? Why haven't I settled down and gotten married? And why am I dating a 19-year old?
"Act your age!" Ben exclaims. "A 60-year old man going to bed with a kid young enough to be his son! Ridiculous!"
"What's next?" one of the Orange County assimilated gay men says. "10-year olds?"
Ok, that's it! Homophobes accuse use of liking little kids so often that it's a sore spot in our collective psyche. We insist, and behave as if, juveniles under 18 are physically repugnant, disgusting to even think about. And an insinuation of interest in juveniles is the worst possible insult in gay communities. But he's Ben and Lane's friend, so I can't rebuff him.
Things go south when they complain about my date, Dylan, hooking up with Jamie Bell:
"Oh my God, he's just a kid!"
Dylan googles it. "He's 31."
"...still, he plays kids."
Enough is enough!
"I was on my knees with Macaulay Culkin, the kid from 'Home Alone.'" I announce, to a roomful of horrified stares.The full story, with nude photos and explicit sexual situations (all models over 18), is on Tales of West Hollywood.