Not a Chris Demetral Hookup Story

In West Hollywood in the 1990s, gay men of certain level of affluence watched Dream On (1990-1996) on the premium cable channel HBO.  It was a quirky comedy-drama about an affluent New Yorker (Brian Benben) juggling his job, love life, and teenage son (Chris Demetral).

I couldn't see the attraction: sure, there were a couple of gay-themed episodes, and shots of Brian Benben's butt and bulge, but you had to endure endless ladies' breasts and hetero-maniacal dialogue.

As Chris Demetral grew from 14 to 19, he got more and more plotlines, and gushing articles in teen magazines.  He was fey, foppish, artistic.   In one episode, his character is tied up by a woman into "rough trade."  And gay men of a certain level of affluence concluded that he was "one of us."

I never heard any dating or hookup stories about him, but he was still a teenager when I left California.  There wasn't time.

After conducting some research, I conclude that it is unlikely that Chris Demetral is "one of us."

1. He didn't like Hollywood, and for a time commuted from his home in Royal Oak, Michigan.  What gay man doesn't like Hollywood?

2. He's a Lakers fan.  That's a L.A. basketball team.  I knew a few sports fans in California, but none who were basketball fans.  Football players have more muscular physiques.

3. He's a disciple of the Orange Goblin.

4. His twitter feed states states that he is "a Christian," which usually means "I hate gay people.  Leviticus, you know."

5. And a "devoted husband and father," which usually means "See!  Proof that I'm heterosexual!  If you publish any horrifying gay accusations about me, I will sue!

Therefore this is most definitely not a gay hookup story about Chris Demetral.

Montreal, Summer 1999

Call me René.  I grew up in the tiny town of Saint-Maurice, but moved to Montreal for college, and stayed. I had a flat on the Rue de Champlain in the Gay Village and jobs at the Musée d'art contemporain and a men's boutique.

I worked out every day, cruised at the bars twice a week, and went to a lot of parties like those you describe in West Hollywood: sex games, nudity, discussions of gigantic penises and dates from hell.

Not many celebrity hookup stories, though one of my friends claimed to have gone down on William Shatner.

In the summer of 1999, I was 25 years old, a buffed gym rat with a smooth chest and 14" biceps.  Dirty-blond hair, blue eyes.  20 cm, in case you're interested.

 One night I was out cruising at a bar on the rue Ste. Catherine,  when I saw Michel Courtemache, a Quebecois comedian, sitting at a table with two other guys.

Not at all attractive, but celebrity sightings are rare in Montreal, so I went over to say hello and gush a bit, "I was your biggest fan," that sort of thing.

Obviously flattered by the attention, he asked me to join them, and introduced me to his friends.  Another Michel, and Chris.

Suddenly I recognized Chris -- Chris Demetral, Jeremy Tupper from Dream On!  One of my big childhood crushes!  Now around 23 or 24,  strikingly handsome, with a strong jaw, piercing eyes, and a presentable physique.  I couldn't see a basket.

I shook his hand and kept holding it, the standard cruising gesture in Montreal.  He looked alarmed and jerked it away.

"He's never been to a gay bar before," Michel said in French.  "Go easy on him."

Um...ok.  "Would you like to dance?"  I asked.

"I don't think so," Chris said.  "I'm a little tired."

"It wouldn't hurt for our baby Chris to dance with an admirer," the other Michel said.

"Go on -- who knows, you might get lucky."

I took Chris by the hand and led him to the dance floor.  "Living La Vida Loca" was playing, not really a slow dance, but I put my hands on his waist anyway.  He followed my lead.

"What brings you to Montreal?"  I asked.  The music was very loud, so I had to yell.

"We're working on a tv series.  It's science fiction -- I play a young Jules Verne who fights vampires and cyborgs."  [The Secret Adventures of Jules Verne, 2000.  Michel Courtemache played Verne's companion, Passepartout]

"Quite a big change from your earlier work."

"Not really.  I've done Star Trek and Lois and Clark (about Superman)."

I drew him closer with the pretense of trying to hear him.  Our crotches pressed together.  I definitely felt a bulge -- the guy was definitely into me!

"You must let me show you the city.  I know the out-of-the-way places."

"Sure, that would be great."

"I'll give you my number."  I leaned in for a kiss -- closed-mouth, nothing exciting.  Then Chris broke away and returned to the table.  I followed and sat next to him and put my arm around him.

"You see, that was painless!" Michel exclaimed.  "Gay men won't bite you -- unless you ask nicely."

"Would you like to...."  I began.

Chris turned to me.  "I'm really tired, and we have to be up early, so..."

Tabarnak!  No hookup!  "Me, too, I said reluctantly."  I scribbled my phone number on a scrap of paper and put it in his pocket, then leaned in for another kiss.  He turned his head away.

A few moments later, Chris and the other Michel left.  Michel Courtemache stayed behind.

"Sorry that he beat you cold," Michel said.  "He is very shy.  Not like me -- I'm not shy at all."  He pulled me close and kissed me.  

I never saw Chris Demetral again, but in the end I went down on Michel Courtemache.  Very big penis, uncut.  And no, he didn't make any of his crazy noises.

See also: Nate Richert's Kielbasa