We Teach My Nephew the Gay Facts of Life

I always wonder if I have any gay relatives, or if I am alone on my family tree.

One doesn't discuss such things among conservative fundamentalists, and God forbid you ask!  But by checking carefully for hints and signals, or by catching them "in the act," I have determined that among my 8 pairs of uncles and aunts and 18 cousins, one is gay, and another straight but "open to suggestions."

And I've been watching my nieces and nephews throughout their lives, looking for signs of gayness.

But Josh took me by surprise.

Rock Island, December 2000

Yuri and I flew out to Rock Island to spend a week with my brother Ken.  On Christmas Eve we would all drive out to my parents' house in Indiana, and stay there until January 3rd.

Ken lived in a huge, rambling house downtown Rock Island, really two houses crammed together, with two living rooms, two kitchens, four bathrooms, and eight bedrooms.  Which he needed: he had seven kids, ranging in age from 18 to 2, plus a seemingly endless array of dogs, cats, parakeets, and hamsters.

While visiting, Yuri and I played it cool -- that is, we stayed closeted.  Ken knew, but he was a conservative fundamentalist, and didn't like talking about it.

And since neither of us was dating anyone special at the time, there really wasn't much to talk about.

At bedtime, we got a small bedroom in an isolated corridor on the second floor, with two twin beds.  Of course, we only used one of them.

 At 6:00 am on the morning of our third day in Rock Island, I was awakened by an elated voice. "Aha, I knew you were gay!"

I opened my eyes.  It was Ken's son Joel, age 14!

"Don't you knock before coming in someone's room?"

"It's my house -- I can go where I want."  He grinned. "Don't worry, I won't tell my Dad."

"He's known since before you were born.  Now do you mind if we get dressed?"  I was painfully aware that we were both naked under the covers.

"Why do you care if we are gay?" Yuri asked.

"I don't -- not much, anyway.  I mean, it's pretty weird, but as long as I don't have to watch, it's ok."  He sat on the foot of the bed.  "Did you bring any porn?"

"No!  And anyway, it would be gay porn, right?"

"I guess."

Wait -- he wasn't letting us get dressed, and he wanted to see gay porn?

I'd been keeping close tabs on Ken's kids, looking for evidence of gayness, but I hadn't figured on Joel.  He was always talking to girls on the telephone, and rushing off to dates with girls.  Or was that a screen?

"Joel," I said, "Are you gay?"

"Me?  No way!" he exclaimed, offended.  "I like girls!"  He paused.  "So...have you had gay sex?"

"Yes, sure, why?" Yuri asked.

"Well, see..."  He paused again.  "My friend Max..he's not gay, either.  But we were wondering what it's like.  Could you...you know, let us watch?"

I thought for a moment.  "Tell you what -- meet us for lunch today, and we'll show you how gay guys lose their virginity."

While Joel happily ran off to tell his friend about their upcoming orgy, Yuri punched me on the arm.  "Ti choknutiy!  You are crazy! We can't do sex with kids!"

"Don't worry, we won't.  I said how gay guys lose their virginity.  Remember what I told you about that?"

He grinned.  "You are a genius!"

That afternoon we met for lunch at Mulkey's, up the street from Augustana College.  Max was a cute football jock, wide-eyed at meeting two gay guys, one of them from Russia!  We talked about growing up in a world where same-sex desire was never mentioned, where "what girl do you like" was a constant mantra.  We told our coming out stories.

Max was more interested in gay culture.  "So you were both dating Jaan?"  he asked. "Didn't it make you jealous?"

"Not really. Straight guys want exclusive relationships, because they want to make sure that if the woman gets pregnant, the baby is theirs.  But gay guys don't have that concern."

But Joel was anxious to get started.  "When will we get to see you...you know, do it?

We went to Lincoln Park and walked along the snow-covered trails.  I asked: "What are the steps you straight guys have to go through before going all the way?"

Reddening with embarrassment, Max listed the same steps that I heard as a kid, from #1 (Kissing) to #6 (Putting your penis into her).

"Do you know why Step #6 is last for straight guys?"

They shook their heads.

"Because the girl might get pregnant, so she has to be very careful, and reserve it for only very special relationships.  But gay guys don't get pregnant, so they don't care."

"It's not special at all," Yuri added.  "We don't even say that it is sex.  It's playing around."

"Then what is special?" Joel asked, perplexed.

"This is Step #6 for us."  I looked around to see if anyone was nearby, then drew Yuri into my arms and kissed him.

It took a few moments to disentangle myself and face them again.  They were both staring.

"Kissing?" Max asked.

"Right.  That's how gay guys lose their virginity.  It's the most intimate thing you can do.  Everything else is just foreplay."

"But...you can kiss anybody.  You can kiss your grandmother."

"Not like this.  Try it and see."

Joel and Max faced each other, leaned in -- and started to giggle.  They leaned in again -- and Josh pushed Max away.  Max kissed him on the cheek.

"I guess you're not ready for the advanced step yet," Yuri said.  "Give it time."

We never talked about "gay sex" again, though sometimes when I visited at Christmastime, Joel would ask, with a knowing grin, "Are you...kissing anyone special?"

Joel is 28 years old now, a punk rocker with several ex-girlfriends and an eight-year old son.  I'm not sure if he's bisexual, straight "but open to suggestions," or just plain straight, but I found Max among his Facebook friends.  Max is gay.

See also: Is My Nephew Gay?

Nude Photos of Robby Benson

I have always hated movies full of angst, gravitas, and people dying.  But in the early 1980s, when I was in college, I watched them: The End (1978), Ice Castles (1978), Die Laughing (1980), The Chosen (1981), Running Brave (1983), Harry and Son (1984) -- just for a glimpse of Robby Benson.

There was never a more beautiful teen idol.  Never.  A face that would make you melt.  If you ever managed to look away from that face, there was a warm chest, six-pack abs.

Robby was trying to be a serious actor, but he faced a major hurdle: audiences never paid attention to the plot, characters, or dialogue of his angst-ridden movies.  They were too busy waiting for him to take his shirt off.



This was before actors would strut across the stage nude regularly, so we get only three glimpses of Robby naked.

1. The underwear scene in Ice Castles shows a very clear penis outline.

2. Running Brave has a scene with Robby walking through the locker room to the showers.  Butt shot.















3. This is apparently an outtake -- it doesn't appear in the film.  But Robby's pubic hair, penis shaft, and head are in full view.

It's not much, but really, with a face like that, the penis seems irrelevant. I'm busy writing "Robby + Boomer"  in purple ink in the margin of my chemistry notebook.

The full post is on Boomer Beefcake and Bonding.

Anal and Astrology in Hell-fer-Sartain, Texas

Hell-fer-Sartain, Texas, September 1984

I'm 23 years old, just graduated from Indiana University with my M.A. in English, with a new job at a state college in Hell-fer-Sartain, Texas.

I hate the bugs, the humidity, the rednecks, the country-western music, the hour-long drive to the nearest gay bar.

But I like the men: they grow them BIG in Texas.

I take out an ad in the Montrose Voice, trying to find guys for dating and romance.  They charge by the letter, so:

GWM, 23, 6'0, 180, musc, into bks, tv, f/sf, mus, dts only.

Who knew that some of these acronyms are used for fetishes?

After a few rather inappropriate responses, I pay for the extra vowels: into books, television, fantasy/ science fiction, muscles. Dates only.  

A few more inappropriate responses, including a guy who just breathes heavily into the phone, and then Raymond: a medical technician, 32 years old, from Detroit, in Texas five years. Reads science fiction.  Favorite authors: Asimov, Heinlein, LeGuin.

Sounds good, but what does he look like?  Newspaper ads don't include photos.

Black, tall, slim, bearded, hairy chest, gym-toned, .

I've not much into tall or slim guys, or beards, but I'm definitely into black guys!

We meet at Mother's in the Montrose for "drinks."  Raymond is attractive, with a round open face and a disarming smile.

 He turns me off by drinking three beers and flirting with the waiter, but this is my first date in Texas, so I can't complain.

He's into astrology.  We're Taurus and Scorpio,  opposite sides of the zodiac.  Explosively passionate in the bedroom.

I'm dubious.  Scorpios are dark, aggressive, easily angered, often melancholy.  We need a laid-back, amiable sign.  My first boyfriend Fred was a Virgo, and Jimmy the Bodybuilder on Crutches was a Libra.

But we both have the Sun in the Third House, Raymond points out.  We both need lots of physical activity, and we're endlessly curious, eager to try new things.  We could have a very fulfilling relationship.

Next we browse at Wilde and Stein, the gay bookstore, then dinner at a Mexican place, where Raymond drinks another beer and flirts with the waiter.

And back to Raymond's apartment in the Montrose.  We sit on the couch kissing, and I gradually slip off his shirt and unbutton his pants.

Huge cut Mortadella! He can put two hands around that thing and still have two inchs to spare!

I go down on him as well as I can, choking a bit, while he moans.  Then he says "Come on, let's go into the bedroom."

We fall onto the bed, kissing,  He pushes down my throat while I am lying on my back and thrusts while playing with my penis.  Then suddenly he pulls away and bounces off the bed.

I look up, Raymond is at the dresser, rolling a condom over his Mortadella.

"I always use condoms.  You don't mind, do you?"  Without waiting for an answer, he throws my legs in the air.  I feel a burst of pain as a giant baseball bat pushes into me.

"Wait...you're too big!" I exclaim.

He pulls out.  "There's no such thing.  It's just a matter of relaxing your muscles. Here, I'll open you up a little."  A finger with a sharp nail goes inside me and feels around.  "Ready?"  A burst of pain again.

I pull away.  "I'm not really into Greek."

"But you're a Scorpio.  All Scorpios are into Greek."

"Um...I'm not really into astrology, either."

He squeezes my buttocks.  "You'll see.  You're a Scorpio.  Once I'm inside, you'll like it.  And I can keep going for hours."

He pushes inside again.  This guy is about two inches longer and way thicker than Fred was!  I yell out in pain as he begins to thrust, and finally yell "Get off!  Get off!"

He pulls away.  "Ok, then, just go down on me, alright?"

I make him go into the bathroom and wash off first.

Of course, there's no second date.

A few days later, I get a phone call from Sayid, who explains that Raymond gave him my number.  He's 26 years old, a professional dancer -- "and a Virgo."  A soft, sweet, laidback sign.

"It's hard to talk over the phone," he says.  "Can I come up?"

He has a rather feminine, high-pitched voice, but I haven't been with many guys in Texas, so ok.

An hour later, he appears at my door: black, rather light skinned, tall, bearded, but very muscular, with thick biceps and six-pack abs.  We sit on the couch, drinking sodas and talking -- he was raised Baptist in rural Alabama, but now doesn't hae any particular religion, although he's "very spiritual."

We kiss, and I run my mouth over his chest and abs, and unzip his pants.  He has a manageable Bratwurst, uncut, with shaved pubic hair.

We move onto the floor and get into the 69 position.

Finally someone paying attention to my beneath-the-belt gifts!

After awhile, he jumps up and pulls me into the bedroom.  He leaps onto the bed and turns over onto his stomach.

I turn him back onto his back and go down on him until he finishes.

"That was nice," he says, "But don't you want to do me?"

"Um...I just did," I say, confused.

"But you're a Scorpio.   All Scorpios are into Greek."

He turns over onto his stomach again.  "Take me!  Take me!  Do whatever you want with me!"

Of course, there's no second hookup.

See also: Topped for the First Time; Hank's Book Collection; How Much Does Astrology Know about Your Sex Life?