Was Cousin Buster Gay?

When I was growing up in Rock Island, we visited my parents' family in Indiana two or three times a year, and I always wanted to spend the night with my Cousin Buster, who lived in the Trailer in the Deep Woods.

He was a year and a half older than me, and more adventurous, dragging me into mishap after mishap in the peat bog, the old barn, the endless corn fields, and the haunted House on the Hill.

At night we crammed into his narrow twin bed and read comic books until our eyes were bleary and he dozed off, and I could watch his bare chest rising and falling, and if I was very careful, reach over and gently caress him. One of my first stirrings of homoerotic desire, perhaps.

The last time I spent the night was at Christmastime in 1973, when I had just turned thirteen. I was very disappointed that he gave me the couch, although I did catch him masturbating later

As a teenager, my visits to Indiana became sporadic.  I was old enough to stay home, I was very busy with school and clubs, and besides, it was different.  I was disgusted by my family's conservative politics and country-western music, and by Cousin Buster's macho interests in hunting, fishing, working on cars, and girls.

No more comic books.  No more adventures.  No more magic and mystery in life.  Just "I revamped the carburator, and put in a new gasket"  and "she had really big tits."


After high school, my visits became even more sporadic, and Cousin Buster was absent altogether.  His mother made excuses for why he couldn't come to family barbecues and picnics.  Fine with me: seeing him again would be awkward and embarrassing, like running into an ex-lover after a bad breakup.

I heard about him through my mother: working at an auto garage, collecting classic cars, going hunting and fishing with his buddies, dating girls but never settling down with anyone.

In August 1996, at the age of 38, Cousin Buster collapsed at work.  He was taken to the emergency room, then admitted to the hospital.  Two days later he was diagnosed with cancer.  He was moved into a hospice. He died a few days later.

I didn't go to the funeral; I had just visited my parents in Indianapolis and my friend Alan in Norfolk, and I didn't have the money for another expensive plane flight.  Besides, it would be awkward and embarrassing.  He was a stranger.

But recently I began wondering: we had so many plans as kids.  We were going to move into a house together, and have a room for comic books and a room for toys, and sleep in the same bed, cuddling in the night.  It sounds very much like two gay kids who haven't figured it out yet.  Could Cousin Buster have been gay or bi?






The full post, with nude photos and the answer to the question, is on Tales of West Hollywood.