One Little Word, "Marriage"
(And why it means
so much to us gays)
some reason lately, the song from the Kander and Ebb musical Cabaret has been running through my mind a lot. It’s a
song that didn’t make it into the film version of Cabaret. You know how that is when a song keeps running through your
Here are some of the lyrics…
How the world
It can change like that.
Due to one little word: “Married”
See a palace rise from a two room flat,
Due to one little word: “Married”
And the world despair that was often there,
For you wake one day, look around and say;
If I’m completely honest, I know exactly why these words have been going
through my head as of late. August will be nineteen years that Michael and I have been together. It doesn’t seem possible
sometimes when you look around in the media and amongst your friends (gay or straight) to think that you’ve been with
the same person for nineteen years. Although I don’t judge anyone else in their relationships, I feel honored to say
that we’ve been completely monogamous over these years, have never “broken up” and having his hand in mine
is still one of the best feelings in the world.
I guess that the closer I get to our
anniversary the more I always think about the whole marriage debate and what it really means to those of us who have been
together for so long and yet the law won’t recognize us. I’d like to think we’re the Goldie Hawn and Kurt
Russell of the gay world and we don’t need to be married but then I think about the fact that if Goldie was sick, Kurt
would most likely get in the hospital room whereas I would have to rely on the kindness of the nurse in charge (and pray that
they’re a gay too). Although I would dare anyone to try and keep me out of his hospital room if God forbid he was ill,
just the thought that they have the law on their side does make it another thing to be added to my list of worries. (Especially
a professional Jewish worrier like me) That list also includes, never being a 28 inch waist again, scared that parachute pants
will come back in when I’ve gotten rid of all mine and general concern that I’m going to have to continue to see
Paris Hilton every day on the news as she is not news but there you have it.
thing is that for me, I don’t really want the whole ceremony with matching tuxes or anything (although the whole gift
thing definitely appeals to me) and by the same token I don’t want to have an attorney draw up papers like we’re
going into a partnership to open a falafel stand. I don’t know what you call it exactly if it isn’t a marriage.
And yet, I don’t want to call him my husband, my “lovah” or my boyfriend. He is my life mate I suppose and
even that sounds like a judicial sentence more than a marriage. So what do you call one another? And what do you call the
union of two people who love one another when so many straight people are afraid of letting us use the word, “marriage?”
You would think that with all my kvetching I would have some answers but unfortunately I don’t. I just have more and
more questions as time marches on.
What I do know is that there are certain
things that tell me the bond we have is one that will not be put asunder by any man or law that men make. I can only speak
for myself but what amazes me is how much wonder there can be after all these years. Like when he says something I would never
expect him to say. When he comes in to watch me sleep and kisses me gently and though I’m awake I never let on. When
you discover as I did a couple of weeks ago, we were both reading the same book at the same time. I guess that’s what
really brought all this to mind for me. We both had bookmarks in the same book and were reading it when the other wasn’t
and as silly as it may sound, sharing something that goes unspoken like that can be very powerful.
We've shared a lot over the years and though I know some people will
say that we don't deserve to be married or have the rights of straight couples, I hope that we will all continue to fight
for equality. I think that perhaps the reason the word "married" is so important to all of us is that it's really
the only word to describe what we feel and if we're told we aren't good enough or have the right to have that word
associated with us then for some it makes us feel less than the other human beings with whom we share this planet. And while
that isn't a great feeling, for me specifically, just being able to look up at night and see him there is an awful lot
and I'm grateful for it, very grateful.
Golde says to Tevye in Fiddler On The Roof (paraphrased by me), “For nineteen years I’ve lived with him, fought
with him, starved with him. Nineteen years my bed is his, if that’s not love, what is? TEVYE: Then you love me? GOLDE:
I suppose I do. TEVYE: And I suppose I love you too. BOTH: It doesn’t change a thing but even so, after nineteen years,
it’s nice to know.”
American Idol (7)
– The Gay, Gay, Gay, Gayer Than Gay Season Finale!
I stopped really writing about television shows or current events because invariably someone reads
it months (or in my case, years later) and then they write to me to tell me that I was wrong (as the person really DID end
up staying in rehab, got divorced, etc.) and frankly it just makes me look bad but dear God, I watched the finale of American
Idol last night and just couldn’t resist. I don’t care how much they tried to butch it up with the whole boxing
match theme, there’s no getting around this one kids, it was the gay, gay, gayer than gay finale!
Never mind for a moment about the contestants. I’m not
the next Perez Hilton (nor do I aspire to be – frankly the thought of being in his weight class makes me shutter) however,
you have the young sensitive boy and then the rocker with a receding hairline supposedly fixed by the “fucked up, I
don’t give a care but spent fourteen hours to make it look this way hairdo” with too much eyeliner on. So think
what you will about these boys but they definitely helped the gayness factor.
Let’s look at the “regulars” on the show. Unfortunately Ryan Seacrest has become
so dull that the question isn’t whether or not he’s gay so much as to whether or not he’ll ever be able
to eat solid food again. He’s certainly gay thin but is losing his appeal as his head becomes so big looking compared
to his body that he’s become a bobble head of himself. Nope, Ryan does not add to the gay factor, he’s too asexual
at this point. Does anyone want to sleep with him, um…no.
Next up you have the judges. Well, try as he might Randy Jackson with the weight loss surgery and
his yoyo up and down weight (which makes him more of a fag hag than a gay) however between the kooky clothes and all the jewelry,
he can “dog” all he wants but he’s so fussy about his appearance – um, hello…gay. Paula Abdul
is the closest thing that this generation has to Judy Garland. Oh don’t think for one moment I’m saying she’s
as talented as Garland but she has that sort of diva drug through the mud now on drugs kind of sadness that the gays seem
to flock to more than a sale at Barney’s. Finally you have the old queen, Simon. Though I almost always agree and think
his criticism is dead on, let’s face it, could he be any more of a bitchy queen the way he wears the t-shirts that are
too tight so you see his man boobs, his constant discontent and disdain for everything and his general, “I’m better
than this” kind of attitude? Honey, you’re ten minutes away from judging drag shows!
Now God knew what he was doing when he invented Tivo. I was
able to watch all two hours in about 15 minutes. I don’t care to see all the cruise ship/ Up With People performances
like the kids all singing together or the solos from past Idol losers. I do have to say that the Michael and Carly duet was
great. But all this filler in a show that has so little content just gets duller than dull real quick.
Up to the guest stars. Well, the recent articles floating about
the Internet letting everyone know (no surprise) that the Dancing With The Stars production team do everything they can to
NOT have gay boys on the show. (In a desperate attempt to try to appeal to what they think Middle America wants and because
ballroom dancing is such a butch art form anyway.) And I hate to tell the producers but I think there are some green card
marriages and some what we used to call when I worked there, “Disney Marriages” – these would be women who
are married to gay men but somehow they think they’re fooling everyone yet they’re only fooling themselves. But
I digress…so onto the gay guest stars. I don’t know how much gayer you can get than bringing on Donna Summer
and George Michael. If that doesn’t make a gay clutch their pearls in shock and delight, I don’t know what will.
I’m not quite sure how she’s doing it but somehow Donna Summer’s looks have not changed since someone left
the cake out in the rain. I know “black don’t crack” but she’s ridiculously fabulous looking. George
Michael unfortunately hasn’t been afforded the same ease in aging. Time (and public restrooms) have not been as kind
to him. Is it just me or has he somehow lost his once fabulous jaw line? Even with the now signature unshaven look, his jaw
looks sunken in as if he’s missing some teeth or something. Could it be from chipping his tooth on the porcelain of
urinal 5? I don’t know but between that the sunglasses that took up most of his face, we really can’t be sure
if it was George Michael or just someone who sort of looks like him, can lip sync like him and was wearing big glasses.
So there you have it. If you don’t see
the show this way, the easy answer to you is that you are sooooooooo wrong. Honey it was like watching a cabaret act from
Fire Island that was transported to Provincetown by way of the Emerald City. So while Dancing With The Stars tries to deny
their gayness, at least American Idol seems to be embracing theirs!
Comment on this at...
More Advice From The Gaytriarch
As many of you who read anything by me, you know that I am the self-titled,
“Gaytriarch” of my family. In translation, this means that much like a matriarch or patriarch, I am the oldest
gay in my family, giving me carte blanche to give advice to my gay cousins or anyone else younger than me. I know it all,
I’m the all knowing and advice giving gay and should one of my younger gay relatives try to step in where the Gaytriarch
is needed, believe me, they hear about it.
when the site went up there were bound to be other boys in need of a Gaytriach’s assistance so here’s installment
two of my latest write in for advice from “Billy” and my response about a next door neighbor at home whom he asked
out. I’ve placed it in the actual order so you don’t have to read from the bottom up. (Yes, there’s a hideous
gay joke in that last sentence)
everyone need a Gaytriarch and what did you do so long without one?
Billy: So things have been ok... i've decided to play my cards differently and put myself on the market. ironically
though, over my christmas vacation my neighbor had wanted to "Experiment with me and I didn't refuse i just didn't
accept. Now i know that at this day and age i'm pretty sexually active, so i've been thinking how guilty i would still
feel. Were just friends my neighbor and I and i think it would be a good chance in trying to put myself on the market, not
literally of course.
As it goes with my feelings with the one i've grown fond of, nothing's changed, we had already
decided to room together next year but that had already been decided a while ago. getting an apartment and all actually.
have become complicated when we find an apartment he likes ALOT and i'm ok with it, but the only thing is, the apartment
is a 4 occupancy apartment and he asked his other two room mates, one likes the idea, the other doesn't like thei deao
f rooming with him another year.
Now its going to be difficult to diffuse the situation because i don't want
to cause any tension between them for the rest of the year, so i think i'm going to try and either talk him into doing
it, or work things out with his other roommate since his roommates were planning to room together next year. there isn't
much time for the least to be signed so that we can guarentee the apartment, so i'm kind of worried as to how its going
to go down.
Thanks for reading =] i hate sticky situations =p
Somelikeitscott: Okay, so has it taken me forever to write back or what? New job - working round the clock
so please forgive...
I'm glad that you're trying to "move on" and put yourself on the market - (just be
careful about putting yourself on the market at too cheap a cost to others as well as yourself). And as your new Jewish Gaytriarch
I must remind you that being sexually active is fine, just be safe, will ya?
Look at you being the peace maker and mediator in the whole roommate
thing. Good for you! Just remember drama is best left for the stage so the more we can avoid it sucking the life out of us
in our supposed real lives the better. Always better and easier to do the right thing and it sounds as if that's exactly
what you're doing.
Hang in there, be well and write whenever the mood strikes.
Billy: So i'm not quite sure, but i've been asking people and
i pretty much get
the same reply and understanding... but heres the senario
In my movement of dating and trying to just deal with school and
wanted to ask this boy next door out on a date, (hes out but not trying
to make a statement). So in my attempt
what i said was so.
"I don't know how to ask this but, i was wondering if you were busy on
day? i don't know... what day is that?"
"Thursday... and it seems like your thursday seems pretty busy."
"Well i was wondering if you'd be doing anything on the weekend?"
"I don't know i'm
"Well i was wondering if... i could take you out on a date?"
"Um... i dont know, let me get back
to you, I'll give you an IM."
Now mind you, this is my first time asking someone out on a date in
grown up since then, but i'm just getting the feeling (even
though hes a busy guy) that hes not interested in me and would
drop the whole thing in general. Now would you have taken the "i'll let
you know" a rejection? Or
should i really wait for some sort of reply?
I'm just kind of surprised it didn't just go: "sorry i'm not interested."
"i'd like that." or something of the sort!
Somelikeitscott: Billy, You're very sweet and you also seem mature beyond your years so I've a
feeling if you think about it for about three seconds you'll answer your own question.
No, he's not interested
but that doesn't mean he can voice it to you (see mature comment above). You see, not everyone is evolved as you so it's
easier for him to push off the inevitable than deal with it. Here's the deal 1) He lives next door, 2) He's not interested
but knows he lives next door - that's awful squared in my math.
You also have to realize that leading with the Valentine's
Day date idea was probably more than a little intense. It’s like asking someone you barely know to go to a wedding or
some function where your entire family will be there. Too much, too soon, too often leads to no date.
Rejection doesn't lie
around each corner, possibility does but until you get some practice at asking under belt (as opposed to whatever else happens
below your belt with whomever you don't have to ask out) you'll never find the guy for you.
Suggestion time - next time,
try something a little less threatening - don't call it a date. Ask - "Do you want to go see Cloverfield this weekend?"
A movie is always a good thing to ask because there's no pressure for two hours as you watch the movie (except for the
pressure you put on yourself as you wonder, "Did his thigh just touch mine on purpose?")coffee or something after
creates the date without being "A DATE!" At the end of the evening, go in for a smooch or a follow up, "Hey,
do you want to get dinner tomorrow night?"
Billy: So I walk into my Architecture Studio class and turn on my comp and my Instant messenger, SUDDENLY
i got a huge wall of text from him and we talked. SO i need some commentary from you as I've actually asked several people
and each of them have different responses as opposed to the same type of responses i got before the response. So i'm not
asking YOU Mr. Experienced and Seasoned advisor to help me clear up the little details of this thing... cause i think I'm
being an impatient teen. Thanks.
(3:46:35 PM) Him: Ok so, I've put a lot of thought into this, and apologize
for the length of this message and not talking to you in person, but I can better express myself if I type it out. On Valentines
day, I a mreally busy, but that would be no excuse, in reality, for avoiding a late night date. However, I've talked with
my friends and done some soul searching, and, honestly, Billy I think you are a great guy, but I am frankly not ready to enter
into any kind of relationship. Hell I'm scared shitless of a date. I spent so much time thinking about it because I wanted
to make sure that the reason I am saying no is not simply out of fear, but rather out of my own ill-preparedness. To tell
you the truth, I just came out to my friends the second half of my senior year, and my parents still have no idea I am gay.
Personally, I feel that I cannot be honest with myself nor anyone else in my life on that personal level until I can be that
honest with my folks, because they have always been there for me. I'm terribly sorry, I just need to really find myself
and find a way I can be absolutely sure of who I am, mind, body, and soul in this respect before I risk hurting myself, or
worse, anyone else. I am so flattered that you asked me out on a date, and you have no idea how bad I feel about this, so
I hope you understand.
(3:48:16 PM) Me: lol, well actually... i was going to talk to you after i came back and cancel the
whole "date" thing...
(3:48:30 PM) Me: and was wondering IF you wanted to just go see a movie just as friends
Me: but if your still not comfortable with it i tottally understand (3:49:00 PM) Me: and i understand how your feeling...
haha believe me
(3:49:26 PM) Him: Yeah. Thanks for understanding. I will probably be busy, considering I have a shitload of tests
in the coming weeks
(3:49:43 PM) Me: but jump's coming out in two weeks! it looks amazing!
(3:49:45 PM) Me: =p
Him: I know!
(3:49:52 PM) Him: I want to see it
(3:50:12 PM) Me: hey, when your not busy with work and studying, let me know i'd
like to go see it one of these days
(3:50:32 PM) Me: just as friends mmk?
(3:50:34 PM) Me: =p
(3:51:09 PM) Him: Yeah. If I find myself not busy, or somehow
make myself not busy, sure
(3:51:39 PM) Me: cool, well i'm going to leave you to your labs and such because i have a bunch
of projects i have to finish myself. =]
Somelikeitscott: Gloating isn't pretty but I'll do it anyway - I was right. He's not ready,
the word "date" scared him and well, I was right!!!
Here's the deal - this is the neighbor right? He can't
risk exposure at this point on any level as he hasn't even dealt with the whole coming out thing fully himself, he's
going to most likely distance himself from any other gays until he feels comfortable with him and is ready to tell his parents,
seems very caring and nice. So you're going to have set this one free I'm afraid. Let him make the next move (if there's
one to be made).
You seem to find yourself going after guys who aren't ready to come out or don't even know they're gay.
Hmmm...seems as though it's time to really put yourself out there with someone who is ready to date another guy. As long
as you continue going after semi-unavailables you're setting yourself up for drama, self-doubt and much worse.
Time to get
active - hey, it's an election year, get involved with some group on campus that has gay overtones, like the Young Democrats
or something - I'm sure there's an HRC (Human Rights Campaign) group there and in a setting like that you're bound
to find someone who is all ready okay with themselves and ready to date.
Stop setting yourself up for failure. You're too nice to continually
choose the drama path instead of the real deal path.
Study and eat and get rest (your Jewish mother), Scott
(Read the first email advice for the lovelorn below)
Comment on this entry at...
Dear Some Like It Scott,
When you put a website up you imagine that all
sorts of people will be reading it (well at least you hope they will) and sure you also hope that someone is going to “discover”
you over their morning coffee, sign you to a book deal or television show and the next thing you know you’re an Oprah
book of the month club selection. But what has warmed my heart are the people who write in who tell me how much laughter they
get from reading the site and some who actually (God help them) write in for my advice.
Such is the case with the recent emails I received from a bi-sexual college boy who is looking for love
and direction. As I am the self-proclaimed “gaytriarch” of my family I was only too happy to give some advice
(that is once I learned it was just angst and not God forbid suicidal tendencies). And so with his approval (and names changed)
here are the emails we exchanged. I thought (and hoped) you might find them interesting.
Funny how so many things change and at the same time how so many stay exactly the same. I do hope he’ll
stay in touch with me and let me know how things go and while I’m sure that many may not agree with my advice (feel
free to leave your comments) there may be some who feel I’m just what the doctor ordered so please feel free to write
in with questions to email@example.com
upon your video blog and i was very intrigued and before i impose myself on you i would much rather ask if you could give
me some advice. Be warned! There possible might be some teen angst or insecurity buried underneath these questions and background
details. If you don't have much time on your hands then i am glad you took the time to read the email. continue to video
post! I'm enjoying it =p
I'm glad that you enjoyed the video blog. I really need to do a new one but I've had a cold
and who wants that on video, right?
As far as the advice goes, I'm good at giving it but like most people, not so
good at taking it myself. That said, I'm not a doctor nor do I have any sort of medical background to be giving advice
so just know that you need to take it with a grain of salt and ultimately decide what's best for you. If you are suicidal
or have any thoughts about that you need to contact a local crisis intervention hotline immediately - if it's about whether
or not to wear those purple pants you bought, then feel free to email me.
Seriously though, know that I'm not the best at getting back
to emails immediately and while I'd like to help and will do my best you may need to consider talking to someone who knows
you and/or the people you're seeking advice about - that's the disclaimer so you make the decision, if you want to
email, my inbox is open to you.
Have a swell day,
The Details Email
Ok so B/G info is that i'm bisexual, and i've come across
a boy that i've grown fond of, and he does not know his own sexual orientation, rather he hasn't even thought about
it, or if hes lying isn't willing to say anything. He also says hes never been attracted to anyone before. He is socially
awkward and is a real nerdy person, but hes the sweetest thing on this earth. I felt like i've found mr. perfect without
looking for him because honestly, he isn't the type i'd fall for since hes not super skinny and has a bit of a tummy,
hes clumsy but its cute even though he breaks things. hes very mild mannered and home oriented and family oriented. he doesn't
get upset or rather doesn't display it outrageously which is why i like him most is that he can control himself and reason
things out and accept things. He likes show tunes lol and he also likes weird AL music (that taste in music kind of makes
me go wtf) i believe he's grown fond of me as well since he asks to take walks during late hours of school days and during
the vacation hes called me almost every night. I've asked him an even more direct question of "Are you straight?"
which he replied "i would believe so." he's always hesitating and half the time i'm not trying to pressure
him but he always asks whats on my mind in which i reply i dont want to say anything because it might put pressure on you.
I'm always honest with him and i've already confessed my feelings for him. I feel like i've come to the point
in my life where i'm done waiting for people, but this guy, hes like a dream with prior experiences with guys/girls incompatible
Scott, as a angsty teen deeply fallen for a guy who isn't my type, i'm asking you to give me your BEST advice
you can give about falling in love. how to deal with it. If i should follow my heart, or do whats best for me in the end.
to a friend of mine who knows me well, she says that i'm always impatient. that the current situation, theres nothing
wrong with how it is now, and i'm thinking to myself well obviously nothings going on because i want to take it to the
next level, and she tells me that i should let time takes its course and stop rushing things.
My other friend, he says i
should make a move. whatever happens from there would be my answer, but i can't make a move because i find it disrespectful
if he doesn't know. put it lightly, i've had so many chances to just kiss him.
Like i said, i've been
tottaly honest with him, confessed my feelings, yet things seem to get better and better and i feel like its tearing me from
the inside because i would've thought that expressing how i feel would have make him turn away. or at least not have gotten
closer to me.
Like any angsty teen, i've been moping around campus with that fake smile and making friends to make time pass
by and having fun. Like everyone in life, everyone is always missing one piece of the puzzle. my piece is longing for someone
who i can cherish close to me. everything else will follow, i believe it so. FUNNY THING i left my hometown to go to a college
thats far from everyone i know to start new, and not look for relationships. YET i fall in love. and its hard for me to even
type the word love, because i've always avoided using it because of things that has happened. but i
think i've finally found someone who i can say it freely without hesitation.
So. should i wait? should i let
time pass by? should i try to forget about it?
i feel like i should blame my mother because she's always enforcing that i find
someone to marry. but meh, i love her regardless.
BTW, you are a great example for younger people like myself to remind us that our
parents love us and they're always there for us so we should be there for them.
Thanks in advance =]
The Advice Email
Were that there
were some sort of magic pill to take, right? But guess what, there isn't one so until there is...let me try and give you
as you put it, my BEST advice.
You're absolutely right to respect "the boy's" boundaries. What you have to understand
is that just because you're comfortable with your sexuality, he obviously isn't in the same place as you when it comes
to this matter, yes?
So how can you expect him to mount the horse (or you) and become your white knight when he's not
even sure he likes the job? Does that make sense?
That said I've found in most matters of the heart it's more about you than
it is about the other guy.
I know you probably won't be able to do this but take a deep breath and step back for a moment.
Time for some
tough love - You talk of him being a "dream" compared to past encounters but come on, isn't it the dream that
you're really in love with and perhaps some of that "angsty" label you've put on yourself? More often than
not, it's easier to get attracted to someone who doesn't share the attraction for us because it's like putting
a picture of Mario Lopez on your wall and telling your friends you know he'd go for you if only he met you.
and not reality. And guess what? Love is reality, not a fantasy my friend. It's two people being in the same place at
the same time willing to open themselves to the possibilities of being destroyed because they can't wait to be with each
other emotionally as well as physically. I'm not saying it's always 50/50 but he's at least got to want some of
the same things you want out of the relationship.
If I had to make a "judgment" based solely on the info you've given
me, I would say that he values your friendship greatly (thus the calls all vacation and the walks) and maybe even admires
you for being able to state your sexual identity when he himself seems to not have one (or at least not ready to share it
with you or maybe even himself). In any case, in my experience taking a relationship like the one you have now to the next
level is rarely successful (sigh, I know that wasn't what you wanted to read). Oh sure, he may eventually relent and kiss
you, etc. but once that happens the entire relationship changes and if he's just experimenting and decides it's not
for him, most likely he will have difficulty facing you again and the friendship will be lost. On the other hand, if he decides
that he indeed likes boys then you may be the catalyst for starting him off on an adventure but rarely does the "first
encounter boy" become the life mate.
Now for the biggest advice I can give you - beware of friends! They will push you
to do things that you probably shouldn't do. (Rent a copy of the old Joan Crawford movie, The Women and watch it) By nature,
the women in your life will tell you to "wait and see" while the male instinct will always be to get in there for
the thrill of the hunt and capture. There's some truth to the old "women are gatherers and men are the hunters"
God created the beloved "fag hags" to balance men who love men with some common sense and sensitivity)
Are you impatient
- of course you are because that's where you are in your life - at a time where everything has to happen this moment for
you to continue to breathe. That's called passion and don't ever lose that but realize that sometimes it can also
just be drama you're creating for yourself which can annoy and bore those around you. Don't be a drama queen, be a
passionate proud person.
Next steps - time for you to find someone to date that you can actually date. It doesn't mean you
have to lose the nerd with the tummy but at least you'll have Christopher or Christine to talk about during those walks
instead of only having one thing to say, which you can't say when "the boy"
asks what's on your mind.
Trust me when I say it will make you more interesting too because if all I ever got out of you was the, "I don't
want to pressure you with my thoughts" line it would get old for me real fast.
Glimmer of hope here - who knows, it may
even get him to realize that perhaps he does have stronger feelings for you once the pressure is off of him to decide his
sexuality and whether he wants to date you all at the speed of light that you're currently going.
Finally, a fairy's tale
(my own) - when I met my mate we were doing theatre together. We were friends only as both of us were involved with other
people when we first met. We did everything together and became close friends.
After six months we discovered that we loved one another and after
ending the other relationships we were in, we began our true courtship. It's been over nineteen years and we're still
together in a completely monogamous relationship. I really think that we've been together so long because we had that
first six months of being friends, sharing our interests and laughs which gave us a great base for a friendship that continues
to this day. Oh believe me when I say that the passion is still there too but on a crappy day you need a good friend not a
lover and it's good to have that in a mate.
So, if I had to sum up this long email, I would say, don't squander your precious
time trying to turn a fantasy into a reality. Find the fantasy and fantastic person in you and then someone who can share
I hope this was a help to you. Try this - go somewhere by yourself and listen to your heart (it may take a few hours
of silence) your heart will always try to lead you in the right direction. Whether you choose to follow the direction that
compass is pointing is another matter. Choose wisely for you.
Thank you for entrusting me with your thoughts.
All My Best,
would love to put this on my site somewhere if you don't mind - of course I wouldn't use your name or anything. Let
me know if you would be okay with me using these emails as a feature on the site at www.somelikeitscott.com
The Final Email
allow you to use this, I admire your work a lot therefore i'd be more than thrilled
Thanks for the advice, =]
All i can keep
in mind is that, theres a light at the end of every tunnel right? =p
So maybe my advice helped or maybe (if he’s anything like me) he read it and didn’t
get the advice he wanted to hear so he’ll continue down the path he’s all ready paving for himself finding his
own truths. One thing is for sure, it’s difficult to give advice without becoming invested in the person (how do those
therapists do it?). I like the feeling of possibly helping someone else by telling my stories and not just because I like
to hear myself talk (though you know that I do) but because somewhere just somewhere in all the mishigas there might actually
be some help for someone. And as we see more and more gray in our hair, don’t we owe it to the next group of gays to
leave them with something more than talk of drunken nights at Studio 54 or stories of being ostracized? Shouldn’t we
tell our stories and try to inspire hope for the next generation of gays? I hope I can do that as there have been so many
in my life who inspired me and are still inspiring me to this day!
Comment on what you've read at...
A "Billy" Update 1.27.08
titled, "Hey, just a bit of an update since you're investing in me"
have been ok... i've decided to play my cards differently and put myself on the market. ironically though, over my christmas
vacation my neighbor had wanted to "Experiment with me and I didn't refuse i just didn't accept. Now i know that
at this day and age i'm pretty sexually active, so i've been thinking how guilty i would still feel. Were just friends
my neighbor and I and i think it would be a good chance in trying to put myself on the market, not literally of course.
As it goes with my feelings with the one i've grown fond of, nothing's changed, we had already decided
to room together next year but that had already been decided a while ago. getting an apartment and all actually. Except things
have become complicated when we find an apartment he likes ALOT and i'm ok with it, but the only thing is, the apartment
is a 4 occupancy apartment and he asked his other two room mates, one likes the idea, the other doesn't like thei deao
f rooming with him another year. Now its going to be difficult to diffuse the situation because i don't want to cause
any tension between them for the rest of the year, so i think i'm going to try and either talk him into doing it, or work
things out with his other roommate since his roommates were planning to room together next year. there isn't much time
for the least to be signed so that we can guarentee the apartment, so i'm kind of worried as to how its going to go down.
Thanks for reading =] i hate sticky situations =p
The Some Like It Scott Response
I'm glad that you're trying to "move on" and put yourself on the market - (just be careful about
putting yourself on the market at too cheap a cost to others as well as yourself). And as your new Jewish Gaytriarch I must
remind you that being sexually active is fine, just be safe, will ya?
Look at you being the peace maker
and mediator in the whole roommate thing. Good for you! Just remember drama is best left for the stage so the more we can
avoid it sucking the life out of us in our supposed real lives the better. Always better and easier to do the right thing
and it sounds as if that's exactly what you're doing.
Hang in there, be well and write whenever
the mood strikes.
Gay, Gay, Gay, Gayer Than Gay Flight Attendant
I know that I myself have been deemed effeminate and I’ve been made fun of most of my life because
of it so in general I try to stay away from topics that concern specific people but on a recent Southwest flight I encountered
the Gay, Gay, Gayer Than Gay flight attendant and just couldn’t resist writing about him.
I knew from the minute he appeared from the door to the walkway to the plane while we were all being herded as cattle
into our groups that there was no mistaking this man…for he was the gayest flight attendant I’ve ever encountered.
He stood about 5’2” and was in his fifties. (He was the height and sounded like Leslie Jordan – Emmy award
winning actor for his role on Will And Grace for his portrayal of the character Beverley Leslie – I saw his one man
show in LA…he is an amazing actor)
The flight attendant (who we’ll just call Louis) had white hair and glasses with pants that were a little
too tight (especially due to the fact that his belly was so large and he was so lively and quick I knew in an instant he could
be Mini-me St. Nick). His arms were in the upright Tyrannosaurus Rex position. (I don’t think that they ever left that
position to be honest with you) and each finger had a golden ring that made me unsure whether every old aunt of his had left
him a piece of jewelry he had admired when they were alive or if he was going for the “most likely to look like Liberace’s
hands” award – that no doubt they give out somewhere…they must…right?)
I had hoped that Louis was
just the gate attendant but as we boarded, so did he and although it was only an hour long trip, knowing all of the Southwest
spiels that the flight attendants do (I know these because I travel on this airline a lot and not because my uncle who used
to be a rabbi is now a flight attendant for Southwest – long story) that this was going to seem like an eternity. The
minute he got on the mic it occurred to me that this was what I had always dreaded my life would become. I would have loved
to have been a flight attendant but at certain points in my life I could unfortunately see myself using the cabin of a 727
as my stage with an audience of captive air travelers. Thinking I’m slaying them in the aisles when really all anyone
wants are the peanuts and to kill me for making them check their oversized carry-on luggage that wouldn’t have fit down
the aisles or in the overhead bin! And so he began introducing the crew and went right into having your “seat backs
and tray tables in their upright position.” There are only four “Ss” in those words but it sounded like
there were thirty of them the way Louis said them. By the time he got to the announcement that our “seat cushion could
be used as a floatation device” everyone started looking around to see if their seat cushion had sprung a leak from
the sound of leaking air coming across the microphone from his lisp.
God love him, he had so much energy and wanted to please (like
a Pekinese that had been left outside for two days until its owner returned) but the more he tried to please, the more energetic
he became and the more lispy he became. The good news is that most of the time the passengers from Burbank to Las Vegas are
spending the flight seeing how drunk they can get and it’s usually a pretty loud rowdy flight. So I worried that I would
have to become Super Gay and defend this guy if the crowd got ugly. But everyone was so well behaved and much to my relief
there was not even so much as a snicker as he asked the passengers if they wanted “peanuts” and it sounded like
“penis.” I must say I was pretty impressed with the group on the whole for their sense of decorum and respect.
As the plane landed he was on the mic again, “Hey ya’ll, welcome to fabulouth Lath Vegath! Ya’ll been
tho thweet, I mean it ya’ll. You go out there and just have the beth time ever!” I think everyone was so sweet
because he was so sweet, so genuine and you could tell that he loved what he did. There was no “act” here, this
was just who he was and he was able to find his niche where he could talk, talk, talk and everyone had to listen. As we all
got off the plane he was there in his rubber gloves (to clean the plane after we de-planed) and although they were short,
his Tyrannosaurus arms made them seem like opera length gloves or that he was going into surgery at any moment. “Bye,
bye…have a great time y’all…” He seemed to customize his farewell line for each passenger.
If someone wrote Louis
as a character on a sitcom or something the gays would be in an uproar over the fact that we were depicted in this stereotypical
fashion but the point of the matter is that there are some gays out there who (for better or worse) are the stereotype
and instead of being repulsed by them or trying to act as if they don’t exist, what we need to do is give them the same
acceptance we’re all looking for ourselves. Just because you have bulked yourself out and are an underwear model doesn’t
make you a “better” gay than someone like Louis. It just makes you a different gay than him or any number of gays.
With more gays being “out” I think that sometimes we can all have a pretty narrow view of what we want the gays
to look and sound like (and I’m talking about from inside the community as well as out). We want the underwear models,
the football and soccer players to come out because just by their appearance and profession they seem to personify that gays
aren’t swishy and that’s important to the gay community (whether they admit it or not). It’s like when light
skinned black people tried to “pass” for white as their darker skinned peers would call it. For some reason a
lot of gays hold the gays that can pass as straight as somehow better and the image they want seen and heard. (And I can only
imagine how much self-loathing comes if you don’t meet that criteria yourself.)
I don’t think Louis has any self-loathing, if anything I think he found his place in this world and is making the most
of it. However there’s just no denying he is the gay, gay, gayer than gay flight attendant!
Comment on this essay at...
Leave it to the LA Gays, right? Some
of my fave LA Gays are throwing their annual Halloween party (in Palm Springs, of course) and I just thought the idea
was fabulous and had to share the ingenious invite!
So if you're still looking for a theme for your party,
look no further.
Unfortunately, I won't be able to attend...and not just because I couldn't find someone
to play Joanie to my Chachi!
|At some point in every life you are asked to be a member of a wedding party. Whether it’s
family or a friend, you’re stuck. There’s no way out and so as the alcoholics recite, you must say the Serenity
prayer to yourself. You know the one that has something to do with the fact that you have to do this for your friend/family
so suck it up and shut the fuck up about it? I’m pretty sure that’s how that prayer goes.
Wedding Number One
My dear friend from high school informed me that
not only was she getting married but that she was also converting to Judaism. Now this was a bit of a shock considering her
Scandinavian roots and the fact her parents were devout atheists. While exposing their children to all sorts of different
religions to let their children make up their own mind on religion when they saw fit, I’m sure my pal’s parents
had no idea they’d end up with one daughter a Mormon, one a Jew and the rest somewhere in between.
when it came time for my pal, Jodie, to get married she needed a “practicing Jew” (I immediately told her, “Listen
honey, I was born a Jew, I don’t have to practice – you’re a convert, YOU have to practice!”). She
needed someone Jewish to stand up under the chuppa with her and I was it. That’s right, I had become, The Maid of Honor!
know, I know, resist the urge to think that I donned a dress of ruffle and lace proportion – I didn’t. I wore
a tux and looked damn good.
The wedding was in La Jolla and I lived out of town, so I couldn’t plan
all the events normally associated with a Maid of Honor. I relied on her local friends to take care of such things as the
Bachelorette party. However, upon arriving in town, my dance card was full with activities. I attended the bridesmaid’s
day of beauty at a local salon having myself mani’d and pedi’d with the rest of the gals (foregoing the “updo”
for obvious reasons). I bought the rose petals for the runway, I mean, runner. I placed the temporary wedding night “surprise”
tattoo on the bride-to-be’s upper thigh and even had the dreaded task of buttoning the seventeen hundred buttons that
went up the back of the damn dress.
The wedding was beautiful and as we stood in the receiving line, getting
very tired of explaining what my position was at this wedding, I chose instead to make sure the three thousand foot train
was out from under Jodie’s albeit small but clumsy feet. It was amazing how many times Jodie and I had to explain to
everyone about me being, The “Friend” of Honor. At one point, a boy of about eight came through the line, looking
just as confused as the rest of the wedding attendees and said, “Did you make that dress?” Even an eight year
old has the ability to sniff out the homosexual!
On to the reception at a very trendy spot in La Jolla where the
groom’s brother’s band played and the groom and bride sang – are you getting that this was a very theatrical
Suddenly Jodie approached me with the dreaded statement, “My half slip is slipping down, you are
going to have to come to the bathroom with me and undo the dress so that I can pull it up and then re-button the dress up.”
(Now for those of you who don’t know, the “half slip” is like a silky skirt under the dress with an elastic
waistband.) I knew there was no way I was going to take my fingers that were already “smarting” and do then re-do
those God Damned buttons. I had to MacGuyver it or at least think of something that didn’t involve the buttons. I moved
Jodie out into the hall where the servers were busying themselves getting things from the kitchen and taking them out to the
guests. Ah ha! It hit me, this dress had a sweetheart neckline, and if I could get my hand between her breasts and find my
way to the slip I could pull it up from the top. Brilliant!
About this time we hear the Best Man get up on
the stage dedicating a song to Jodie and her new husband. The song for some unknown reason was “Bye, Bye Blackbird”.
I looked at Jodie and said, “What the hell kind of song is that to sing at a wedding?” She just gave me one of
those looks that let me know that she was about to kill me for bringing up this inconsequential thing when she needed help.
So we’re in the hall and we know people are going to start looking for the bride. In I go, right between the breasts
and as I reach the slipping slip, we hear the Best Man singing a re-worded, “Sugar’s sweet, so is Jod. Bye, Bye,
Blackbird.” I’ve got the slip; now the only thing I need to do is pull. And so I begin pulling and pulling and
Jodie is jumping, why I don’t know but she thought it would help and then we both look over, there is a crowd of servers
and kitchen staff with stunned expressions on their faces, looking at this guy (me) with his hand down the front of the bride’s
dress! I resisted the urge to say, “Nothing to see here, move along” and got back to finishing the task at hand.
By the end of the song, we had returned from the hall, slip in place and a new respect from all of the servers in
The marriage was a happy one and produced sons. It was always fun to relive the zany antics of the wedding
week we had and explain to the boys why I was the Maid of Honor (some things never change). Unfortunately, Jodie’s husband
passed away after a long illness and she was left, as many are to face life with her sons and herself with no husband beside
her... for now.
Wedding Number Two
forward to many years later. Jodie moved back to Arizona, where we had spent our childhood and we had met some thirty years
earlier. The boys were getting older and Jodie had found the new man of her dreams although this time, he was not Jewish.
(Funny, he looks Jewish!)
It’s January and we were sitting in a very conservative synagogue
in La Jolla watching Jodie’s eldest be bar mitzvah. An emotional day, being back in the same synagogue where Jodie was
married, her new fiancé taking it all in stride, being a gallant gentlemen, going along with everything we throw at
him. Jodie and her fiancé plan to be married in April. As the rabbi is leading the congregation, it hits me, I lean
over to Jodie and say, “I should get ordained and marry you.” Well come on, I have to think of my own friend-career
Being the Maid of Honor at the first wedding and as I would never be the groom, there was only one way
to move up and that was to become the Officiant! I was kind of joking but Jodie and her new mate were delighted
so as soon as I came home, I got online to find out about what I would have to do to become a (I can hear my mother’s
heart breaking a little) minister.
I was amazed to see how many different options there are for becoming
a minister or officiant, as it were. You can be ordained for free but on some sites, if you pay a little extra you can get
the “clergy” stickers for you car and if you buy the deluxe package you even get a DVD that walks you through
setting up your own non-profit church. Let’s face it, even though I did it – it seems way too easy to do it and
a little not right, even to me. Some found it disgusting that I would do it and my mother just wanted to know if I was going
to change careers or at least moonlight at one of the hundreds of chapels here in Vegas.
Finally the wedding
weekend was upon us. We had decided on a ceremony and were good to go. Due to my schedule, I was only able to get there the
day before, Saturday, in time for the rehearsal dinner.
Now for those of you who may never be in a wedding
party, let me give you some advice - do whatever it takes to be at the rehearsal dinner. There are several reasons for this,
1) the food is always better, 2) there are less people so it’s kind of like a mini-wedding with just the cool kids,
3) any anxiety or crazy behavior is going to start exhibiting itself at this event so you know who to keep your eyes on the
next day at the wedding, 4) you get to really size up the other side and decide if your friend/relative is marrying into the
loony bin and 5) you can advert almost any crisis – that is, if you’re me.
And so it would
come to pass that at the rehearsal dinner there was a crisis that needed to be adverted at any cost. Jodie was in her room
modeling THE dress for her friends from San Diego that she had made by some local seamstress. One of the ladies had the presence
of mind to tell me to walk in and take a look at the dress. Now let me say that the cascading button dress from Jodie’s
first wedding was some bazillion dollar dress and Jodie wanted to go much more simple for this one and spend a lot less money.
When I walked in, I couldn’t believe my eyes. Surely this was a joke dress, not the real thing? It looked like a dingy
grey colored, chiffon covered, mother-in-law of a hated bride, turd. There, I’ve said it. It was awful. It even included
a chiffon rose at the hip and one long piece of chiffon that hung down going nowhere just for show. I tried to go back to
my acting roots but Jodie knew me too well. She said, “It was supposed to be champagne colored. That’s what I
picked out on the swatch.” Oh Lord, it was champagne colored all right, the color of champagne after you’ve thrown
As her friends tried to convince her that it was okay, Jodie played with the hanging piece, making it
a scarf, a brooch, and a pterodactyl. Jodie was going to alter it herself a little that night she said but from my point of
view, there was no way to make this dress work. I refused to have it be in my first (and probably only) wedding I would officiate!!
It was Saturday night and I told her that I would pick her up Sunday morning at 10am (even though stores
didn’t open until 11am and most at noon) we would have time to get coffee and create a strategy, shop for a dress, be
back at her house by 2pm for the hair and makeup people and be right on track to attend the wedding at 5:30pm, arriving at
5pm for pictures.
Sunday morning and I was on fire. I even surprised myself. Lucky for us, it was April, which is prom
season so there were more dresses than normal in the major department stores. In the first store we found a dress or two but
neither of us was that impressed, it was noon and we moved on to Macy’s that had just opened into a department named,
“Women’s Better Dresses”. Jodie was picking out all the wrong things when suddenly, there it was, I saw
it, it was an almost white but not quite white dress made from a satin that was the texture of grosgrain ribbon. There was
only one of them, it had a train and I took this wholly grail over to Jodie, asking the sales woman (no doubt in her nineties)
to hold my Venti latte. Jodie was concerned that it didn’t show her breasts as it had a higher neckline than she had
envisioned but as I’d done so many times in our times together, I looked her in the face and said, “Shut the fuck
up and put this on before I beat the shit out of you.” Looking over my shoulder at the shocked sales woman holding my
coffee, I changed like Sybil to all lightness saying, “We’ve know each other for years and we’re shopping
for her wedding dress. The wedding? Oh, it’s today at 5pm.” As I walked into the women’s dressing room,
the sales woman gently held out my coffee and then silently backed away to the safety of her sales counter with an expression
of shock and disgust all at the same time painted on her face (painted no doubt from the Lancome counter downstairs).
minute she put the dress on, well, okay, before she even put it on, I knew it was THE dress. She began to hem and haw, talking
about the other dress at home when I did the two things you should always do when trying to talk sense to a heterosexual,
sort of Jewish, female. I looked at the size of the dress; it said it was a four (now Jodie was no four but this dressmaker
knew what he was doing by putting that size number on this dress) and then I looked at the price; it had been reduced I guess
from the season before and was an amazing $50. Here it was, a designer dress that fit her like it was made for her and it
was only fifty bucks! I told her I was buying it for her and we left the store. I’m not sure that sales woman will ever
be the same. God rest her soul.
And so we raced back to Jodie’s, calling her mother to meet us at
the house and we managed to get there by 1:30pm, a full half an hour mind you before hair and makeup. Her mother saw the dress
and loved it, her sister-in-law saw the dress and loved it and I finally said in my most loving of tones, as I was walking
out the door headed to my hotel to get showered and dressed, “You’re wearing that fucking dress and that’s
all there is to it. Throw that other piece of shit away.”
We didn’t tell her friends from San Diego
about the dress switcheroo, we wanted it to be a surprise and so it was. When Jodie walked out you could almost hear an audible
sigh of relief from anyone who had seen the chiffon turd dress. The ceremony went off without a hitch in a botanical garden
As we were getting Jodie ready to board her new
husband’s top of the line Harley Davidson to go to the reception, one of her affluent, fashion forward friends stopped
me and inquired, “How did you do it? How did you get that dress? On a Sunday? The day of the wedding? And it looks as
though it was made just for Jodie?” I lifted my head (as the light was fading and I wanted to have my eyes in the key
light), took a small intake of the botanical air and then looked her straight in the eye and said, “This is what I do.”
About then a cloud of dust created by the Harley pulling away covered us and we walked silently to our cars to go to the reception.
My work here was done.
Click Below To Visit All The Some Like It Scott Archived
The Advocate's October 24, 2006 issue featured their
reader's Top Ten GLBT Blogs and look who made the list!! (Click on the cover art to see the article on
Thank you to all of you for your support!
What I Did For Love...
Guy did this sketch of me as “Paul” when we did the show together. I love it!
A Chorus Line is back on Broadway
and although I have my doubts about it being able to survive on today’s Broadway, my hope is that it runs forever.
I can so vividly remember when
I first saw it. It was a First National Tour and we were living in Arizona. The show started and I almost couldn’t understand
what I was seeing, here these people were in regular dance clothes at an audition? It didn’t follow any of the Fiddler
On The Roof, Guys and Dolls, Sound Of Music logic that I had known up until that point. I don’t know in this day and
age with so much reality theater if you can understand what it was like to sit in a theater and watch for the first time,
people without wigs, period costumes and eyelashes the size of a drag queen’s.
As the show continued and each
character on “the line” put themselves on the line, telling their own story I was riveted. How could these
people know that what they were doing on that stage was what had been in my heart for so long? To love something so much that
you’re willing to sacrifice almost anything to be even a small part of that world, theater, was all I could imagine.
I had started out by mimicking Broadway soundtracks in my living room from as early as I could remember and eventually began
taking dance classes and performing. I know that runners talk about an adrenaline rush but there’s no endorphin that
compares to an audience standing on their feet for you (something that is considered commonplace now but there was a time
you really had to work to get those people on their feet).
After the show, all my theater
friends were saying, “Oh, you’re the perfect Gregory Gardner” (The Jewish “queen” character
from the show). How could I tell them I was Paul San Marco? I was that boy who was made fun of, who had to make the tough
boys laugh so that they would protect me as Paul so eloquently described? And so years later when I had an opportunity to
play Paul in a production of A Chorus Line, my heart was full before we even began rehearsals.
Could I embody and move an audience
the way that I had been moved? It didn’t matter that I wasn’t doing the show on Broadway, far off as a matter
of fact, but I was lucky that the theater where I was working had brought in someone who had done it on Broadway and was even
put into the show by Michael Bennett so all the staging and direction was from the original show. It didn’t matter that
it was dinner theater and the people coming to the show, even though it was more than ten years after the show had opened
on Broadway, weren’t expecting what they were about to see. A lot of people leaving the theater said things like, “Dear
God, Marge, what they couldn’t afford costumes? Looks like they just took clothes right out of their drawer!”
But what was worse
was delivering what I would grow to call, “The faggot monologue” each performance. Standing on a stage in a large
darkened theater, I would begin Paul’s monologue, pacing myself, telling myself not to let on where things were going,
because Paul wouldn’t know that he was about to open his heart to a complete stranger on an empty stage so I shouldn’t.
And as I write this I feel in my chest, what I felt every performance, a little afraid and very vulnerable. For those of you
who know the monologue, Paul talks about discovering he was gay, working in drag and eventually his parents finding out both.
This was pretty intense material for dinner theater back in the day and as I would tell Paul’s story of having to move
down front in movie theaters because he couldn’t see and that men would come and “play” with him, that’s
when it would begin. First an audible gasp from the house left side of the theater. Next a few people standing up and moving
to the aisles to go sit on the buses that had brought them to the theater, they would actually rather sit on the bus than
listen to another minute of this story unfold. And so every night and every matinee, I carried Paul’s fears and my own
out onto that darkened stage, reliving his rejection from others and himself, my own rejection from others and myself and
on several occasions the rejection of the people there to see that performance. It wasn’t easy but I was always proud
to get to do that monologue, to say those words that brought me to tears the first time I saw the show, that brought me to
tears each night I said them and still to this day when the words play over in my head I can feel my eyes begin to sting a
I was never in a drag show and
I was never “found out” by my parents (I told them) but inside, I felt a lot like Paul San Marco. I still feel
like him. And my question is whether or not that will resonate today the way that it did in 1974 or even 1989 when I played
it in dinner theater?
For all the Will and Grace and
Queer Eye For The Straight Guy, I wonder while “we” are being “accepted” more, albeit as a stereotype,
if maybe, just maybe we (“The Gays”) and everyone else have forgotten the internal struggles that a gay person
goes through on the way to becoming themselves? Even for those of us who always knew, there was a time when we wondered if
this, what we were, who we were would make us somehow unlovable.
I know that I seem flamboyantly
glib in a lot of what I write but please know that it’s only one verse you’re reading and like a good song, there
are several verses and choruses that make up who I am as a person.
I hope that A Chorus Line runs forever. I hope that it touches people as well as entertains and I also
hope that in a year or so when there’s a resurgence of it in dinner and regional theaters that there are many actors
who stand on that stage and deliver Paul’s monologue free of audience gasps and walkouts. And if you’re someone
who goes to see a performance of the show, I say to you what Paul’s father says to the stage manager when he discovers
that his child is in a drag show and he and Paul’s mother are about to leave the theater, “Take care of my son.”
For remember, all of us “Pauls” are somebody’s son.
My editor at Bravotv.com for the Project Runway blogs
asked me to share a paragraph about my own coming out experience.
Unfortunately, with there being more gays at Bravo
per capita than most small countries, my story ended up on their cutting room floor.
But like Janet Jackson says, "It's all for you."
I was eight years old I played Tiny Tim in a college production of A Christmas Carol, “God bless us, everyone.”
Other than when I was at the theater I didn’t feel very blessed. I was one of the “unfortunate ones”, the
effeminate toddler that was a “Momma’s Boy” then in grade school, “A Sissy” and finally in high
school as I was beaten and slammed into lockers more than once a day I graduated to, “A Faggot”. The thing is,
in talking to friends, I guess I was fortunate to be effeminate because I never had to doubt that my family loved me for me
regardless of the names others hurled at me because this is all I could or knew how to be, just me. I always knew I was gay
and being in theater and dance from six years old, made it completely normal to me. It was the outside world that didn’t
get it and even from an early age I knew I was right and they were wrong but that doesn’t count when you’re walking
down a hall trying to get to that next class, desperately hoping you’ll make it to this class, this time, just once
without being called a fag. Although it was obvious to everyone, things weren’t like they are today and while I know
everyone in my family knew deep inside, I didn’t officially “come out” until I became involved in my first
relationship at twenty-one and told my mother,
I’m going to Houston for the summer to be with Michael.
Why would you do that?
Because I’m in love with him.
Okay, but don’t tell your father, it’ll kill him. It was a little while after that I told my brother and my father and while they weren’t thrilled, I’ve
always known they loved me. So on this, another “National Coming Out Day, I say, “God Bless us, everyone!”
On Being A Gay Son...
|I'm the one looking into the camera...of course!
and letting your parents love you.
I know that a lot
of gay men have strained or even non-existent relationships with their fathers. I am not one of those gay men. I have very
dear friends who have told me horror stories about their childhood or coming out and/or life after coming out with their fathers.
I sympathize with them. I just know that I’m so thankful to have never gone a day without knowing my parents loved me
regardless of my sexual orientation or anything else. I can truly say that I have been shown unconditional love and I’m
thankful for it.
I remember when I told my mother I was gay. The first words out of her mouth were, “Don’t tell your father,
it will kill him.” (In this one sentence you can see the beauty of Jewish guilt in all its grandeur.) And so I didn’t
tell him (for awhile) but eventually I did and while I had to go through several years of, “Oh, you’ll find the
right girl.” I know now that he has accepted me and loves me for who I am. (Perhaps it’s because the older I get
the more I become him, the inevitable trap of life…becoming our parents.)
My life from the age of six was about breaking into show business. (As you
can see, I didn’t do very well, having become the greatest never was been there’s ever been) I wouldn’t
trade a minute of the stuff I did as a youngster and I’m thankful for the support of both my parents to let me pursue
my dreams but there is a lot of rejection in the business of show and if you’re not ready for it, it can really knock
you on your ass.
up it was my mother that took me to dance class; that took me to auditions and encouraged me to pursue my dreams as a performer.
While my father was there for the performances, he would constantly let me know it was okay for me to stop anytime I wanted.
This would come up mostly when I had been on the eighth audition for something, found out that I didn’t get it and was
devastated and crying. He would just gently remind me that I didn’t have to do this if I didn’t want to keep going
with it. I always thought he didn’t understand me or what I was going through (as I threw myself on the bed, as overdramatically
as can be imagined) Yet looking back I realize that the reason he would suggest me not continuing was not because he didn’t
want me to go after my dreams but because he couldn’t stand seeing me hurt. I didn’t know that at the time. In
my eyes at the time, he just didn’t understand me and wasn’t supportive. And how could I be close to someone that
didn’t understand me? (Yes, I was always this dramatic) And so I shut him out, even though at the time, I blamed him
that we weren’t closer.
My brother and I were and are complete opposites. He was the one that always went horseback riding with my father and loved
it (while I had the right outfit on) but would bitch the entire time while trying to stay on top of the horse. My brother
and father shared a love of cars, while I just wanted a convertible, something cute to drive. My parents indulged this fantasy
and my first car was a Fiat X19 that was about 12 years old. It was chocolate brown. This was my first car and upon its arrival
I suddenly realized that I had no idea how to drive a stick shift car (and we always had Cadillacs). The car sat there for
weeks while my father and brother tried to teach me how to drive the thing. Eventually it was one of my brother’s friends
that taught me. At any rate, my brother who is a book smart genius and I were seemingly not cut from the same cloth, as they
was about this time that I had a pivotal moment in the relationship with my father. My brother had just been awarded the prize
as the third or fourth top mathematics student in the state and I had just gotten my report card showing that I had failed
geometry. You see, the high school theater department was doing Guys and Dolls and I spent a lot of time reading that script
behind my geometry book. Think of all the movies where the kid is reading a Playboy behind his book, for me it was a musical
comedy…always. And so I was freaking out. How would I tell my parents (but more importantly, my father, who prized
an education so) that I had failed geometry? Here my brother was considered “gifted”, never bringing home anything
less than a very high “B” and I had brought the first “C” and “D” and now, the dreaded
“F” that branded me an academic failure. I waited weeks and evaded the questions about my report card until finally
one day I knew I had to come clean. I was sitting on my bed when my father came in and although I had rehearsed what I was
going to say, I didn’t expect to cry. Suddenly the tears flowed. As I told him how sorry I was and that I had gotten
an “F” and was afraid to tell him, my father started to cry a little. I don’t know that I ever saw my father
cry before this time. I stopped dead in my tracks and asked him if he was that disappointed in me and his response shocked
me to my very core. He explained that he was upset because I had been so afraid to tell him. He told me then and there that
there was nothing I couldn’t tell him that would make him stop loving me.
That’s when I realized that it had been me for most of the sixteen years
that had been pushing my father away, not the other way around. I had created the “he doesn’t understand me”
situation when not only had he probably understood me but more importantly, he had loved me the whole time, unconditionally.
From that moment on, our relationship changed. Not because he changed, because I did. I realized that when you fill your head
with ideas about how someone feels about you without asking them or giving them the opportunity to express themselves, you
set yourself up for some of the biggest heartache you’ve ever known.
As I said before, I know that my relationship with my father may not be
typical but I think it’s important sometimes for you to look at yourself before you condemn others. Being gay is not
the ideal dream lifestyle (for most parents) for their children. It’s foreign to them and seems scary too from what
is shown on television and what is in the news. So you have to be understanding and give them a chance to realize that it’s
a part of you, not all there is to you but a part of you that does define you in the eyes of other people (and in many cases
the law). You have to give people an opportunity to do the right thing by you. It may not happen when you tell them or when
you want it to happen but sometimes when you least expect it, they just might surprise you. And that’s what I like to
I can’t leave my parents house without my father telling me he loves me, hugging me and kissing me. I can’t
imagine having a better father to show me right from wrong, to show me how to be a man or more importantly, how to love someone
unconditionally. I hope you all have that in your life, if not now, if not from a father or mother, by someone in your life
at some time so that you can understand how important you are as a person on this planet.
Loving someone unconditionally doesn’t mean
that they’re going to love you unconditionally in return but if you never open yourself up to that possibility, you’re
missing a lot. So honor your mother and father, love them unconditionally and do your best to be a good
son (or daughter) and know that just because you’re gay doesn’t mean that you’re not one.
Comment on this essay at...
A Fairy's Tales by Scott
Once upon a time...
The Gay, Gay, Gayer Than Gay Weekend!
My Friend's Birthday Weekend In Palm Springs
Oh dear God is the only phrase that comes to mind at the moment. My dear friend from LA is throwing
a weekend birthday bash this weekend in Palm Springs. I'll know about 6 of the 1200 guests, not a problem as I'm a social
delight but that isn't what has me worried...
What has me worried is that they are going to be LA GAYS...all of them...and
here I'll be, feeling like the country gay among the city gays.
Where do I live? Vegas of course. That's not what
makes me the country gay obviously, what makes me the country gay is that I've been with the same man monogamously for 16
years. I haven't been to one gay bar in all my time in Vegas. I'm the straightest, effeminate gay in all history!!!
guy is out of town so I'm flying solo on this one, which is probably better as my guy has no time for the put on swish talking
that sounds as though everyone's tire has air leaking.
There's no chance of me fitting in - none. I'm not thin enough,
buff enough, I'm not tan enough, my teeth aren't white enough, and I haven't had enough surgery or movie deals. Oh God, why
didn't I stick to that work out plan?
Maybe when I go to the tanning salon this week they can give me a stencil for
my abs...Oh dear Lord, I don't care that it's going to be over 80 degrees; I can't and won't take my shirt off. I can't do
it. I can't get the 8 inches onto my biceps and off my waist before Thursday. Maybe I can Karen Carpenter it and throw up
from now until Thursday...then I'd have extra skin...perhaps an ACE bandage?? Too crazy...stick to a plan...as my mother always
says, "Plan your work and work your plan." What does that even mean??
These are successful upwardly mobile gays; you
know the kind you see in the Range Rover gay ads and the ones with the sunken cheeks in the gay magazines. I'm about to walk
into an Abercrombie and Fitch catalog looking as though I came out of the Field and Stream!!! HELP!!! I refuse to be the Charles
Nelson Riley among the Robbie Williamses...no caftan and large glasses...maybe Truman Capote...a nice linen look with hat...oh
God, I'm too short too!!! I AM Truman Capote without an interesting novel or touch of brilliance to make me seem eccentric!
Breathe...I must breathe and do Yoga non-stop for the next four days. Maybe I can have people pledge me like a marathon.
Stop coming up with fund raising ideas and figure a way to raise your metabolism. It's all too much...I can't take it, I can't
possibly take it...okay, well maybe I can.
my friend and he came to my 40th so there's no way out. Where's Roy's tiger when I need him...that's the only way out. Being
mauled by a tiger...okay, I live in Vegas but still, no chance of that really happening. Must think, I'm a wonderful liar
but there's no way out of this one. I must resign myself to the situation.
I haven't bought shorts in three years
- I'll have to go to the mall tonight...all those long shorts making me look even dumpier than I am...and then I'll tan, there's
no hope, I may as well buy the God Damned green wig and accept the fact that I will be the Oompa Loompah of the party. Imagine
how droll I'll sound, "What? You mean it isn't a costume party? I had no idea...gee, do I feel silly. Change? Oh...umm...well...this
is all that I brought...wear something of yours? That's so sweet but I'm sure I can't imagine doing that 22 inch waist Speedo
it's true justice."
It's a bit like seeing the accident in your rear view mirror...all you can do is brace yourself
and take it. (Sounds like the first time I had sex but that's a story for another day, I'm too upset.)
Well, I'm on the other side of the weekend now and here's the report. They say
it takes a big man to admit when he is wrong, in this case it's just a short Jewish boy saying, "I was wrong."
only was it one of the more relaxing weekends I've spent in my life, I believe I met some really swell people that will be
in my life for awhile. Here's the thing, there were a few gay couples who had been together for awhile so that was my crowd
that I hung out with mostly which I believe made it easier. Had I been there with just the swinging singles, it may have been
a different story.
Now some of these revelations are going to sound obvious or even ridiculous but I must say them
nonetheless. I guess that without knowing it, I've been a bit of a gay snob. "I'm not jumping from bed to bed and I don't
need to spend a weekend with everyone hubba hubbaing one another." that would be a typical response from me. Thing is...there
really IS a sense of community, a sense of warmth that I believe comes from the common bond, not of sleeping with the same
sex but the struggles one faces in growing up homosexual in America.
There was plenty of laughter but there were also
hugs on goodbyes, even people you barely knew. And not hugs to feel one another's asses as the religious right would have
you believe but a caring, it was great spending time with you, you matter type of hug.
Is it disappointing to not have
outrageous stories to tell, "then they came out naked, except wearing feather boas and did Ain't No Mountain High Enough,
ala the Supremes.”? Or is it just that when you make fun of something, even self-deprecating, you on occasion have to
look inward. Was it my own fears of not being accepted? Attractive enough? Special enough? That made me feel the way I did
before and the way that I feel now that it has passed?
All I know is that there is
comfort in walking with people who have walked in your shoes. And just because the people are gay, doesn't mean that they
are stiletto heels, by the way.
Oh sure there was hilarity abounding
and it would make a nice 90 minute play, God knows, the dialogue was brilliant but when it was over, I was left with clarity
- I enjoy being a gay (sorry about that, Flower Drum Song) and being around these people enriched my own soul - who knew?
I recently wrote a blog about my experience at a Gay, Gay, Gayer Than Gay Power Gay Poolside Party and several readers of the site said that it should
have been located here instead of one of the Don't Get Me Started blogs! So here it is...I'm easy (not cheap, there
IS a difference, sometimes you can find both qualities in the same person but that's for another day.)
Gay, Gay, Gayer Than Gay Power Gay Poolside Party – Don’t Get Me Started!
I have to begin by saying that I have been to perhaps all of about three pool
parties in my lifetime and this was the first one in my forties. I think the main reason (besides never being invited to any)
is that for me the getting ready process to go to a pool party (let alone one swimming with gays) is just way too much pressure.
I don’t know if I should fake tan or go as I am. I don’t know if I should wear my bathing suit (ye gads, that’s
right, I only own one which I bought under protest when I was in Palm Springs three years ago at the insistence of my pal
– read the story of the Gay, Gay, Gayer Than Gay Weekend here… http://www.somelikeitscott.com/somelikegay.html ) or bring the bathing suit and then it’s all about the bag you bring
to carry it to and fro. The list of things to worry about is endless and makes me so insane that by the time I get there I’m
all ready done. But as this was to be a poolside party it made the decision easier, “the” bathing suit
would not make an appearance, it would be shorts. Still there was much more to worry about because after all, this was going
to be the gay, gay, gayer than gay power poolside party – Don’t Get Me Started!
The party’s occasion was a thirty year anniversary party for
two guys and was being thrown by a lovely power lesbian couple. So right from the get go you know that the food will be great
and that when people speak you won’t be sure if it was one of the pool floats that sprung a leak or the partygoers inserting
an “s” into every word they sssay. (You get the idea) Now what makes this event even more interesting is that
the way that I know the lesbian couple is through my mother, who sold them their home so here I was at the gay, gay, gayer
than gay poolside party with my parents. (How many people can say that, huh?) Here we stood, my mother rhinestoned to the
nines, my father in his dress pants and Tom Jones styled Italian leather boots and me in my shorts outfit looking like a Garanimal
threw up on me. We looked like refugees from a PFLAG meeting. And you should have seen everyone’s faces when I would
start talking to them and then say, “Oh, and these are my parents.” Priceless – just like the Mastercard
ads – “some things money can’t buy…”
There was “staff” which included a male bartender complete
with perfect highlights that was making everything (and when I say “making” I’m thinking he went home with
more than tips) but specializing in Mojitos. (I admit that I had him tell me the flavored ones before deciding to go for a
regular one because I wanted to hear the extra “S’s” in raspberry) and a famous lesbian caterer from New
York who was all business but threw my mother off her mark. My mother asking one of the lesbians throwing the party, “Now
the caterer, she’s so pretty and nice where is her husband?” Lesbian: “Well, her “partner” is
right over there.” My mother: “Oh <knowing nod> well, she’s lovely, isn’t she?” At one
point there was a guy with a baby and as my mother whisked over and remarked how pretty the baby was and asked how old she
was, the proud father gave the response, “Around three months old.” As we walked away my mother got closer to
me and talking out of the side of her mouth she stage whispered to me, “No wedding ring…do you think there’s
a “partner” somewhere?” Egging her on I said, “What do you think? He said the baby is “around”
three months old that means he doesn’t KNOW when the baby was actually born. Like when we took in the cats that were
strays and had no idea how old they were until the Vet guessed they were six months old from their teeth. A baby doesn’t
have any teeth. Can you say surrogacy or black market adoption?” She gave me a knowing nod and then we moved toward
good news is that this was not a twinkie party. These guys had been together for thirty years so the partygoers were mostly
friends for years and the guests were for the most part age appropriate. Still it wouldn’t be a gay party without me
ending up hanging with the heterosexuals instead of the homosexuals. There was the woman I started talking with who also owned
cats so we had some inane conversation about cats while her husband stood there getting increasingly uncomfortable as the
pool area filled with gays, not knowing if he should cover his crotch or ass as to not “tempt” the gays. (I could
have saved him the anxiety as no gay would have wanted him) Then there was the couple from New York, the woman worked with
a member of the celebrated couple and her boyfriend was this typical meatball who talked about how he couldn’t find
a job here because he was fired as a cook in New York but as the conversation went on he suddenly was telling the story about
how he had been cast as a lead in an independent film that had lost its funding with a storyline that was so convoluted that
I can’t even repeat it because who would remember or care.
When I finally found a gay to talk to and was having a normal conversation,
his boyfriend came over, smiled and nodded through a couple of minutes of conversation and then whisked him away – neither
one to be seen again. I guess the boyfriend may have thought I was trying to make a move on his man…I can assure you
that I was not and continually brought up my guy but you know the gays, we’re a suspicious lot on the whole and tend
to spray our territory like cats. The only other person I really had a conversation with during my three hours at the party
was one half of another long term gay couple who you’d have no trouble picturing wearing caftans and lots of rings.
You know the type, they make everything they tell you seem confidential and touch your wrist a lot as they “let you
in” on what they’re telling you.
All in all, I would have to say that my parents were the most interesting and fun people
I talked to all night. So as I said my goodbyes and went on my way, all I could think was that although a lovely party maybe
I just wasn’t meant to be a power gay of Las Vegas. And somehow that was just fine with me. The gay, gay, gayer than
gay power poolside party – Don’t Get Me Started!
Comment on this blog at...
first baby laughed for the first time, its laugh broke into a thousand pieces, and they all went skipping about, and that
was the beginning of fairies.
Oh THAT'S how it all started...now
I get it!
I found this article (and interview) simply fascinating
in the June 19, 2007 issue of The Advocate. Get a copy of The Advocate today to read the full story!
|His beautiful mind Inside the brain of an autistic savant lies a parallel universe. From The Advocate June 19, 2007
In the mind of Daniel Tammet, Wednesdays are blue. So is the number 9, which
also happens to be tall and to evoke feelings of enormity. He prefers multiplication to any other mathematical calculation,
though he can divide a sum to nearly a hundred decimal places almost instantly. His favorite number is 4 because it’s
both shy and quiet, 89 reminds him of falling snow, and 5 is loud like a thunderclap. The word thunder is orange—as
is any word beginning with the letter t—but orange is actually clear and shiny like ice.
Suffice it to say
that Daniel Tammet’s brain doesn’t work like yours.
For one, he’s a savant, which by
definition means he possesses an extraordinary brilliance or talent coupled with a developmental disorder. Darold Treffert,
clinical professor of psychiatry at the University of Wisconsin–Madison Medical School and author of Extraordinary People,
explains that there are three levels of savant syndrome: Splinter skills include obsessive preoccupation and memorization
of facts and trivia—which suddenly explains that guy we’ve all met who can list every Beatles song ever written,
including track length and album of origin. The talented savant is someone who has an expertise in music, art, or math that’s
particularly remarkable given his disability. But a prodigious savant, of whom Tammet is one of perhaps 50 in the world, has
skills so outstanding that they would be amazing even without the contrast to his handicap.
“Absent the disability,
we’d call a prodigious savant a genius,” says Treffert, who served as a consultant on the movie Rain Man. “It’s
a rare condition within an already rare condition.”
Tammet’s particular developmental disorder
is Asperger’s syndrome, a mild, high-functioning form of autism. Statistics on how many autistic people live specifically
with Asperger’s are inexact, but if you consider that more than half a million people in the United Kingdom (where Tammet
lives) have some form of autism, his disorder is the one thing about Tammet that isn’t so unique. One out of 10 people
with an autistic disorder shows some type of heightened talent. People with Asperger’s often have normal to high IQs
and good language and learning ability. However, like those with other types of autism, they have difficulty with social interactions,
insist on routine, and exhibit a tendency for obsessive behavior. For Tammet, that means he weighs his morning cereal to exactly
45 grams and counts every item of clothing he’s wearing before leaving the house. Friends popping by without warning
can cause a meltdown, as can a trip to a large, crowded supermarket. Actually, if the last two serve as criteria, we might
all be a little autistic.
As for his prodigious talents, Tammet can calculate numbers in a blink of an
eye. He’s recited the number pi to more than 22,500 decimal places from memory. He speaks 10 languages, one of which
he learned in a week. It’s all remarkable, of course. But it’s how he does it that makes Tammet so rare, even
amid the extraordinary circle he runs in.
Tammet sees numbers (and, to a certain extent, words) as shapes,
colors, textures, movements, even emotions—a condition known as synesthesia. He has a unique visual response to every
number up to 10,000. When doing multiplication he sees two distinct shapes spontaneously create a third between them, which
he understands as a new number. Multiplying any number by 11 is accompanied by the sensation of numbers tumbling downward
in his head. “It’s like doing math without having to think,” he writes in his memoir, Born on a Blue
Daniel Bor of the Cognition and Brain Sciences Unit of the Medical Research Council in Cambridge,
England, along with colleague Jac Billington of Cambridge University’s Autism Research Centre, studied Tammet’s
ability to process sequential numbers and remember them in correct order. Tammet can recall a series of 12 digits, compared
to about six for most people. “Daniel’s ability to remember numbers and possibly also his ability for calculations,
though that’s far more of a mystery, are due to a combination of two factors,” says Bor. “First, his Asperger’s
syndrome allows him to concentrate more deeply on one thing and so excel in an area he chooses to obsess over. Second, we
think Daniel’s very unusual form of synesthesia causes him to convert those numbers into something even more structured
and ordered, making it easier to remember.”
It’s quite beautiful—and oddly enviable—when
you think about it. Tammet’s autism could have left him detached and isolated, but his unique relationship with numbers
provides him with a dynamic community of personalities and intrigues that may actually exceed the experiences of the average
person. “Many savants retreat into their rituals and expertise when they’re anxious and upset, and to that extent
their abilities become a comfort,” explains Treffert. “Daniel’s experience is richer. It’s a place
for him to wander and explore; it colors the mind. It’s more than just a comfort, it’s enrichment.”
So, the question remains: Does your brain have the same, albeit dormant, capacity as Tammet’s? Yes and
no, says Treffert. “We’re finding that some hidden potential exists in us all, but we’re not all hidden
|Click Above To Go To Their Site
A dear pal of mine (I call him, another friend of ours and myself the Three Muskequeers –
you know, Aramis, Paco Rabanne and Vetiver) is a member of the LA Gay Men’s Chorus. Now I don’t know if you can
get any gayer than that, I mean, can you?
Well, here’s the deal, it has been a great experience
for him and he’s even gotten to travel to South America with them (I got a fab belt from Argentina (I think) –
that’s in South America, right?). And recently he sent me a link to some of the performances by the chorus that
are available on YouTube.
Now before you all say it, I know, I know, I’m going straight to hell but
isn’t the idea of men in a chorus known as a “gay chorus” sort of redundant? I mean, come on, I was in chorus
in school and the guys were as gay as your high C could see. I think it has something to do with all that really wide open
mouth singing (get your minds out of the gutter) or maybe it’s just that whole standing on risers thing (imagining they’re
high heeled shoes), I’m sure I don’t know but the whole idea of the gay men’s chorus was something that
I always sort of chuckled at and went on my way before that is, I actually knew and loved someone in the damn thing.
I must tell you that a couple of years ago my pal sent me a CD that they made and I played it in my car for weeks. It was
very good (even if there seemed to be no consonants other than a lot of extra “S’s” and I’m sure you
know what I mean).
Well, like them or love them, here they are in all their gay, gay, gayer than
gay glory. For my pal, Dave and all his pals at the Gay Men’s Chorus of Los Angeles, click below to see the boys in
Coffee In A Cardboard Cup
The Bitch Is Back
Three Little Maids
Gay Mean Great?
(Or why we should expect more from the Logo Network!)
Okay so hear me out on this one. I’ve always been a bit of a snob when it comes to
being gay. For the most part I have always held this belief that we are really better than heterosexuals at anything we do.
When and why did it start? I’m not sure but I guess I liken it to blacks having to be ten times better at what they
do because they didn’t receive the same opportunities. But more than that I just think that we do things better because
we are better, period. Is that so wrong of me?
So with that in mind let me say that I’m always a little bit more than surprised when
gays aren’t better than everyone else and it gets on my nerves. For years I have gone to the gay themed movies, all
the time I’m watching them I’m thinking, “Couldn’t they get better actors? Director? Script?”
But that’s all internal. Externally I do the same thing every other gay does, “Oh it was so right on. It really
touched me.” When in reality had I been watching it at home, I would have touched something (no, no myself – that’s
only “when I think about you”) the remote to change the channel. But I was willing to take this on for the team
and continue to be supportive, you know like disagreeing with the war but supporting the troops, kinda, I guess.
Which will bring us back
to doe or at least the reason for writing this piece. When I was back east last week, they had the Logo network where I was
staying. I was all excited to watch the all gay, all day network, figuring I would come away from there having to have it
added to my seven thousand channel line up when I got home. Now here’s the disclaimer, in all honesty I only watched
a couple movies, some of their “Can’t Get A Date” and “Noah’s Arc” shows and some of the
news breaks – ala MTV (who I think owns this channel). While watching this network and trying to make myself like it
(you know like you did in high school for the approval of your friends when you knew that you shouldn’t cut every sweatshirt
in your closet to give you the Flashdance look but you did it any way because if they all jumped off a bridge you would too)
but the more I watched the more I realized that this network, this gay emperor has no clothes.
Now I’m more than willing to say that I may not have
watched enough of it but it just felt like when you turn on a show that you don’t watch on a regular basis (okay I’m
talking soap opera now, there I’ve said it) and you think to yourself, “My God, this is the worst acting in the
world, how do people watch this crap?” And then you switch to the one you’ve been watching for years and all you
keep saying to yourself is, “I just know this guy has got to win the daytime Emmy!” but he’s probably just
as bad as the actor on the other show, it’s just that you’re used to this actor and have already been sucked in.
Well I didn’t get sucked into any of the programming and frankly, I think it sucks at the moment.
The movies are all the
ones you’ve seen a million times, that awful Broken Hearts Club movie where Dean Cain is the gay everyone wants to be
or be with…hmmm, recurring theme…can you say Brian from Queer As Folk? Because I know we all hang around in
packs but only one person can be attractive and the rest have to hate and envy the one great looking guy. My theory on this
recurring theme in gay movies is that gays were the sidekick for so long that we don’t know how to do anything else.
So when a writer sits down to write a movie or something he immediately thinks about the one central character and then surrounds
him with all the stereotypical gay sidekicks his computer will allow him to put out. This movie is right up there with the
more mainstream messes like The Next Best Thing and The Object Of My Affection. Lousy movies that we watch and applaud because
we figure if we don’t, no one will ever make another gay movie so we’d better support it, buy it on DVD and make
sure everyone knows we saw it.
reality program of Can’t Get A Date seems like a good idea but then it goes horribly wrong in the first few seconds
when you realize that there’s someone interviewing the person trying to get a date but he can’t have a normal
voice or seem personable. The voice takes on a God-like quality. It feels as though it was recorded later which leads you
to believe that the answer the dateless one is giving may be an answer to a different question than the voice is asking at
the moment and they just thought it would be funny to add this different question in to his answer during post production.
If you didn’t get any of that, think about when Jamie Lee Curtis is being questioned by Arnold in True Lies in the interrogation
room, it’s like that a little. Now I don’t think we need some gay squad to swoop down on the dateless one but
having the voice and nothing else is a little weird. Stranger than that is when they make the guy sit in a white void and
they digitally spin him around while all of his faults in big letters (ala The Electric Company) float around him as if he’s
a specimen in a petrie dish. I never saw how they “transformed” this guy from being a self-loathing yet at the
same time loud mouth asshole into a prince but I really didn’t care to see it as it just seemed like the show needed
some help in getting, dare I say it, watchable?
The show Noah’s Arc I could take for five minutes. Yes, here is a show where everyone
is attractive and often without their shirts. But once again, for the sake of gay it just feels as though it should be better.
You have the jock/straight acting boyfriend who is with some guy that looks like Luther Vandross (from his heavy days) and
eyebrows plucked within an inch of their lives. So yea for the show for showing us that a football player and someone who
looks like they should be playing Aretha Franklin (in her fat days) at the local drag club down the street can be a couple
but do you care about these characters? All it took was the first scene of the “straight” boyfriend sitting on
the sofa screaming while watching sports with another hunky jock type and then Luther sashays in the room. The “straight”
boyfriend looks up and utters that classic line, “Hey boo.” Well, that did it for me. “Hey boo?” Just
because they’re black they have to use this kind of stupid dialogue? It’s like did you ever notice that the ads
for McDonald’s targeting and only have blacks in the commercial call it, “Mickey Dees” and all bob their
heads to a more rap sounding theme song? You never see the white family of four calling it Mickey Dees! Does anyone else but
me, the short Jewish white guy find this insulting? I guess there’s more to this show; like when
Noah gets in his car and is surprised by this guy that obviously something went wrong with but he kisses him and you can see
Noah arching his back even though he’s seated in a car as if to indicate that he has been won back but between the acting,
the script and direction it was like watching General Hospital when it was losing popularity so they had some evil villain
supposedly controlling the weather, it’s just bad.
Even the news breaks need help. It would seem the only requirement to do one of these is
to speak with a sibilant s. Of course they look good but who can even focus on what they’re saying because they seem
like they’re being videoed in the principals office at the high school doing the daily lunch special announcements.
if I were the lesbians I’d be even more pissed off about this network. They actually have commercials with sponsors
telling you the programming they support that has lesbians in it. As if to say, “I know you’ve been watching for
two hours and haven’t seen one lesbian but stay tuned at 3am today when you’ll get to see a lesbian!”
Honestly, I didn’t go into watching this network with the idea not to like it. Trust
me when I say, I wanted to like it…a lot. Because I think it’s a cool thing to have a network with this programming
and all of the documentaries they show look great. But come on kids, we gays have always harbored the feeling that we were
just a little bit better than the straights and unfortunately, to put it politely, this is not some of our best work.
What I can’t figure
out is why this can’t be better. Look at all the gays who made Hollywood what it is today. And with a new actor coming
out of the closet every five minutes you would think that this network would be a home run. Instead, Logo has settled like
marrying someone you’re not in love with (not that we would know, right?) and what I mean by that is that I’ll
watch it to support the community but it all feels so nothing new, everything borrowed including the blue programming. Noah’s
Arc feels like the black version of Queer As Folk, the Can’t Get A Date show feels like every dating show on MTV except
with a God voice and the newsbreaks are strictly MTV without the personalities to make the breaks interesting.
I know that the Logo network
is relatively new and I’m hoping that they find a way to make it better than they are at the moment. Thing is that we
can’t keep supporting stuff that isn’t good my gay caballeros. We need to start drawing the line somewhere before
we lower our standards so much that we don’t have one anymore. Just because it has a gay theme and we may get to see
Dean Cain’s naked ass doesn’t make it a good movie. (I know some of you will disagree with that one)
In the movie,
“To Be Or Not To Be” Mel Brooks says, “Without Jews, Gypsies and Faggots there would be no theater.”
It’s true so let’s try to remember that kids. To Logo I say, remember that we have always started the trends,
not followed them. I beg you to resist the urge to do Gay Fear Factor where you make gays look at female anatomy books while
the stereotypical gay who is built like a bodybuilder at the site of the books starts flailing his arms, clutching his pearls
and saying, “EEEwww, that’ssss ssssso grossssssss.” Come up with programming we can all really like instead
of having to say we like just because it’s gay. We want to like you but right now you need some improvement, if you
were getting a grade it would be C- with a note at the top of the paper saying, “I know you can do better than this
More Gay, Gay, Gayer Than Gay Stuff!!