West Hollywood, January 1995Lane was a big fan of a gay comic that appeared weekly in Frontiers, about an assimilated couple: they lived in a straight neighborhood, had mostly straight friends, and had problems involving kids and in-laws.
"That's what life should be like," he said one night. "If the world wasn't so homophobic, we could move down to Anaheim, buy a house, and adopt a couple of kids, just like..."
"Just like our oppressors?"
"Just like straight people. And look -- one of the guys is short, slim, and Jewish, and the other is tall, goy, and muscular, just like us!"
"Must be a sign," I said, busily channel surfing.
One Sunday night in January, we went to a book signing of gay cartoonists at the Different Light Bookstore. Tim, who drew Lane's strip, looked nothing like his characters: he was about 40, and big, bigger than me everywhere: 6'8 to my 6'1, and about as wide as he was tall, with impossibly wide shoulders, thick heavy biceps, enormous hands and a big belly. I swear if he lay down on a bed, he would take up the whole thing!
Add a thick black beard, leather chaps, and a leather vest festooned with silver skulls, and you have a cross between a heavy-metal rocker and a Hell's Angel. No wonder there was no line at his table.
Lane rushed us over. "I love your work!" he gushed. "Does it reflect your real life?"
I expected a big, booming voice, but Tim was actually soft spoken. "No, it reflects what I want life to be -- a 'normal' life, with a house, a job, a partner, and kids, where gay and straight don't matter."
Ugh! I came to West Hollywood to escape the "house, job, wife, kids" cage! I left Lane to gush some more and headed over to meet Donelan.When we reunited, Lane didn't talk about Tim, but he was very energetic in the bedroom that night. I was certain that he was fantasizing about Tim
Lane liked his men big, the bigger the better: tall, massive, muscular, fat. I was much taller than him -- we looked like Mutt and Jeff walking down the street -- but I couldn't compete with Tim.
A few days later, I came home from work to find Lane and Tim sitting on the couch. Not kissing or fondling, but Tim was so big that he couldn't sit on a couch without pressing his leg and thigh against the guy next to him.
I was certain that they had been in the bedroom!
I roiled with jealousy. We were allowed to see other guys, as long as we brought them home to "share" the bedroom activity. Sex without sharing was cheating.
"Having fun?" I sniped.
"We were just waiting for you to get home," Lane said with a guilty grin. "We're going to go out to dinner."
Grumble, grumble. Ok, I guess.
"Sorry -- I didn't know you were getting out of the car."
Yeah, right.
After dinner, we returned to the apartment, but Tim didn't come in for sharing. He looked around to make sure no one was looking, then hugged us both at the same time and gave us each a wet, gross kiss. I reached down to grope him and found Lane's hand already there.
That night Lane was less than enthusiastic in the bedroom. Because he had already had some bedroom calisthenics earlier in the day?
About a week later, Lane announced: "Tim has invited us out to visit him in Temecula on Friday."
Temecula?
A far, far southern suburb, about 1 1/2 hours away from West Hollywood, where Tim lived in the house he inherited from his parents, where he had three cats and belonged to a gardening club and saw his two daughters from a heterosexual marriage on weekends.
Ugh! Sounds like what I moved to West Hollywood to escape. Besides, I had a vested interested in keeping Lane as far away from his boyfriend as possible. I was pretty sure that ten minutes after Tim said "Move in," Lane would have the U-Haul rented and the "Dear John" letter written.
"Driving all that way in Friday night traffic? No, thanks!" I said.
"Well, how about if we leave here at 2:00, and get there at 3:30, before rush hour starts?"
What? Lane knew that I worked at JobTech from 8 to 5 Monday - Friday!
"We can't make it. I have a job, remember?"
"It's contract. You can take the day off whenever you want."
"Sure, if I don't want to make any money that day."
Lane paused. "Hey, do you mind if I drive over by myself? I'll be back by 10:00 pm, I promise."
I glared at him. "Sure, no problem."
As Friday neared, I became more and more apprehensive. Lane would probably be spending the afternoon in bed with his boyfriend! Plus he would be experiencing the sedate Straight World lifestyle of the comic strip. Mowing the lawn, calling the plumber to fix the sink, planning the garden club picnic, bringing a casserole to the hetero couple next door, advising the daughter over her boy trouble.
Ugh!
In a year or two, they would be inviting me to visit them in Temecula, to meet the in-laws and the kids. They would serve coffee and cake in the living room, with a picture window looking across to the neighbors' house across the street, where the kids were playing catch in the front yard....
I went to work as usual, but couldn't concentrate, worrying about Lane dumping me to go suburban with the motorcycle bear Tim. Finally I decided to drive out to Temecula and catch them in the act!
I claimed to not be feeling well and left at noon. I didn't want to drive all the way down to Temecula myself, so I called Infinite Chazz, who was from Orange County and knew his way around the suburbs.
We met three years ago, when I was working at a camp for juvenile delinquents. Now he was living with his parents and taking classes at Cal State Fullerton: 20 years old, slim with short brown hair, a long face, a tight smooth chest, and an impressive Bratwurst beneath the belt.
We called him Infinite Chazz because he was infinitely attractive, sure to cause jaw-dropping stares in every gay guy who came within five feet of his dazzling smile and even more dazzling bulge. He visited every couple of weeks, to "share" and make the guys at the synagogue or MCC die of envy.
At 1:30, I picked up Chazz at his parents' house. We stopped to grab lunch at a Carl's Junior, then and drove another hour to Temecula, arriving at 3:00, at just the right moment for Lane and Tim to begin their illicit bedroom activity.
Sure enough, Lane's car was parked in the driveway. The upstairs window was open. That must be where they were doing it!
We knocked. Tim immediately came to the door. Fully clothed. "Um....hi?" he said quizzically.
Thinking fast, I said "Hi! I decided to come out after all."
"My friend, Infinite Chazz."
"Well, come here, let's have hugs all around." He wrapped us in his massive arms and gave us each a kiss. I reached down to grope him, and found his hand on Chazz's basket.
That night the four of us hooked up. Tim had a Mortadella+, beercan thick, with an enormous head. I got to go down on him for a few minutes before Infinite Chazz took over. Then he topped Chazz while kissing Lane. Meanwhile Chazz went down on me.
Tim was quite energetic for a man-mountain.
Turns out that there was no illicit bedroom activity going on. Tim drew bears in his comic strip, but in real life he liked smooth, slim twinks and Cute Young Things. He liked Chazz.
See also: I Sneak Chazz into His Boyfriend's Bedroom; Leonard and Larry
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