Blake and His Boyfriend: Are All Opera Singers Gigantic Beneath the Belt?

Manhattan, June 2009

A few weeks after I moved to the East Village in 1998, I started dating Blake, who lived in my building.  Seemingly an ideal boyfriend: in his 30s, black, muscular, religious (devout Episcopalian), with a Mortadella beneath the belt.  BUT he was pretentious, elitist, an opera buff, and always had a glass of wine in his hand.  Eventually I pawned him off onto Yuri, and they dated for about three months.

He and Yuri stayed friends.  Sometimes when Yuri came to Manhattan for the weekend, he got all of us tickets to Broadway shows and operas.  I generally dislike operas, but the performers often wore bulgeworthy tights, and afterwards we often went to parties with big name celebrities in attendance, like Andrew Lloyd Weber.

Apparently Yuri stayed in contact.  When we came back to New York for a visit in June 2009, he suggested that we spend a day with Blake.

"And the night.  He's the ex-boyfriend for both of us, so it's polite to ask him to share."

"But he'll invite us to the opera!" I protested.

Yuri shrugged.  "You can live through an opera, if you look at the bulges."

Fact: all opera singers are huge beneath the belt. 

"Ok, I'll call him."

We met Blake and his new boyfriend, Kris, just after lunchtime on the Saturday of our visit.

After living in the straight world for four years, I was anxious to immerse myself in the gay world of the Village, pay my respects to Christopher Street and the Oscar Wilde Bookstore, go cruising at Boxers, with its outdoor patio, and so on.

Instead, after dropping our stuff off at Blake's apartment, we went to the Guggenheim and the Frick Museum.

Yuri and I had already been there!

Instead of dinner at a gay restaurant in the East Village, they took us to a place on 45th Street, near the New York Public Library.

Godawful, pretentious, all light and glass, with tiny $35 "plates" of broche cavatappia roule.  Lots of cocktails on the menu.  $5 for a Diet Coke.

And all female servers.  Half the fun of going out to eat is gawking at the hot waiters!

I wasn't in a good mood.

I nudged Yuri.  "Hot dogs later.  And cruising."

In the 8 years since I'd seen him last, Blake had gotten a little gray around the temples and chunky around the belly, but he was still quite attractive.

His boyfriend Kris wasn't bad, either.  A chubby twink, late 20s, with deep-set blue eyes, a short beard, and a hairy chest.  Except he outdid Blake in pretentious snark.

"Upstate New York?  All cow tipping and tractor pulls!"

"Television?  I watched that once.  It was dreadful."

"No, I don't work out.  Who wants to spend an hour sweating to narcissistic gym bunnies?  You know they're all swishy queens anyway!"

His only good quality:  he was an opera singer.

Fact: all opera singers are huge beneath the belt.

After dinner, I suggested going to a cruise bar, but Blake said he had a surprise for us.

Please, not the opera! I thought.

Fortunately, the New York opera season was over.  Instead, Blake took us to Blithe Spirit, a Noel Coward comedy, starring gay actor Rupert Everett, Angela Lansbury, and Christine Ebersole.

A gay playwright, a gay star -- you can't go wrong with that!

Except the play was entirely heterosexist.  It's about a man being haunted by the ghost of his ex-wife, which causes problems with his current wife.  Not a hint of beefcake or buddy bonding.

Afterwards, "drinks" -- another $5 Diet Coke -- at a straight bar.  With Rupert Everett, who proved even more pretentious than Kris, and borderline homophobic, bashing:


Gay subtexts: "Don't you hate dreary queens who think everything should be about them?"

Gay marriage: "A dreadful idea!"

Gay sex: "Be honest, doesn't it seem just a little silly to put your penis down a man's throat?"

I hoped Rupert wasn't planning to spend the night with us -- I was tired, hungry, upset, and not at all in the mood to put anyone's penis down my throat.

Thankfully, the evening soon came to an "early" end, around 1:00 am, and we stumbled back to Blake's apartment for a "nightcap."

My fifth Diet Coke of the day.  I anticipated getting up every hour all night.

"Now, about the bedroom arrangements," Blake said.  "There certainly isn't room for four of us in our bed, but I'm anxious to see -- and feel -- my ex-boyfriend again.  So, if you're amenable to it, I'll take Yuri into the master bedroom, and Boomer, you and Kris can have the guest room."

"Is it ok?" Yuri asked.

Kris leered at me.

Well, maybe I was up for having a man's penis down my throat after all.

"Sounds great," I said.  We gathered for a group hug and fondle, and then Kris took my hand and led me to the guest room.

Where I discovered three things:

1. Not all opera singers are huge beneath the belt.  Kris logged out at 5".

2. Plus he was an anal bottom.

3. Who didn't like cuddling.

See also: The Opera Buff and The Roommate Switch; Yuri and the Sausage Size Contest

Cousin George: Only Fools Wear Pajamas

Walterboro, South Carolina

My Cousin George, son of my father's older brother, was just my age, tall and blond, with a hard chest, a thin belly, and a Southern drawl.  He lived in Walterboro, South Carolina, a thousand miles from Rock Island, so I only saw him a few times during my childhood.  We drove down to visit once, but usually my Grandma Davis took me down on the train.

What I remember most about my visits was the sizzling heat, the humidity,
and the beefcake.  No one in South Carolina owned a shirt. I had never seen so many sleek muscular bodies.

And the racial diversity: Cousin George had friends who were Native American and Chinese, and even black (I never saw anyone black outside of the Little Brown Koko books).

We went fishing (I used the fish to as bait to meet a cute boy), and crabbing, and  Cousin George warned me to avoid the "dead man's fingers" inside the crab shells that would turn you into "a goon."

We went swimming in the warm salty Atlantic Ocean.

At night Cousin George and I took our baths together together in scalding-hot water, and then slept naked together under thin sheets -- "only fools wear pajamas," he insisted.

The full story is on Righteous Gemstones Beefcake and Boyfriends

The Nude Photos of Martin and Lewis: A Gay Tease or a Gay Getaway in 1952

 

Nude photos of 1950s-60s comedy duo Dean Martin and Jerry Lewis have recently appeared on ebay, "from the Frank Branda collection."  This one sold for $4,494.99"  Wow, why spend that much when you can see it online for free?

Frank Branda was Jerry Lewis's personal assistant, driver, and close friend; he also appeared in three of Jerry's movies..  The photos were originally sold at Sotheby's shortly after Lewis's death in 2017.

Here Dean seems to be cold or pretending to be embarrassed, while Jerry is pretending to masturbate.

Same shower, but Jerry's hair is dry, so taken earlier?  Obviously staged. Dean and Jerry face each other.  Dean grabs Jerry's wrist to move him, and pretends to be soaping his back.  I can't read their expressions.

The candids seem to depict ordinary bathhouse activities: sauna, gym, flirting.  The captions say that they were taken in 1952, about five years into their comedy partnership, at the El Mirador Hotel in Palm Springs.

The Spanish Colonial style El Mirador, which opened in 1927,  was converted to an army hospital during World War II, and re-opened in  November 1952.  During the next 20 years, it was a "must see" landmark for tourists and a resort for the rich and famous, including U.S. Presidents.  

Are Dean and Jerry romantic partners, or are they fooling around, playing with the perception that they were gay?  At this time you could "hide in plain sight," as long as you were seen on the arms of women on occasion.  In November 1952, the 35-year old Dean was married to his second wife, Jeanne Biegger, and had five children (he would later have two more, and marry a third time).  The 24-year old Jerry was married to Patti Palmer, and had a son (he would marry a second time, and have a total of six children).  Both had numerous extramarital affairs.

Playing with the perception that they are a romantic couple, or actually a couple, having a gay weekend while their wives and kids wait at home?   Here they hang out in the sauna with  his driver/"close friend" Frank Branda and  Dean's assistant Mack Gray.  Notice that Jerry is keeping a chaste distance from Dean and crossing his legs in "don't touch me!" body language, while the other two guys are pressing their thighs together and letting their dongs hang out.

They were aware that Mack Gray was in a relationship with George Raft (1895-1980), who often played gangsters and heavies in movies.  They even attended parties at Raft's house as a couple, leaving the wives at home.

Here Jerry kisses Mack while Dean and an unidentified boyfriend wait.  One gets the impression that Jerry is comfortable in the gay world, while Dean is a bit standoffish.

Romantic partners, or gay teases?  Nearly 70 years later, there's no way to know for sure, but either challenges our perception of the 1950s as a dark era when gay people were closeted and lived in constant fear.

How to Host a Real West Hollywood Party

In West Hollywood our main form of entertainment was the Dinner Party. We hosted them, or were invited to them, at least once a week. They were a good way to catch up in those days before text messaging, meet your friends' new boyfriends, and of course, do a little sharing.

But you don't need to live in West Hollywood to host a real West Hollywood Party.  You can do it anywhere, even in small towns on the Plains.

The Date and Time:

Saturday night is best.  Ask everyone to arrive by 6:00, so they'll be there by 6:30.  You sit down to eat at 7:00, have the entertainment at 8:00, and the bedroom or bars by 10:00.

The Guest List:

The most that can sit comfortably in your living room, at least four, as many as eight plus you, your partner, and your housemates.

Only gay men, of course, and always an even number.

About half single and half partnered (romantic couples or best-friend pairs).  Try for a mix of races and ages, and be sure to include:

1, A celebrity.  Someone who is famous, at least locally. Actors are best, but musicians, politicians, and porn stars will work, too.

2. A newcomer, someone who has just come out.  A Cute Young Thing preferred, but not required.

The Pre-Dinner Refreshments:

Most of my friends didn't drink, so there was just an assortment of soft drinks, juices, and coffee and tea.  I suppose you could have alcohol, but not a lot.  Some of the guys will be heading to the bars later.

For appetizers, something simple, cheese and crackers, a veggie platter, or hummus with pita pieces.

The Background Music:

Either classical or a selection of gay-positive pop songs.  If you want to do the 1980s, I suggest:
1. "I'm Coming Out"
2. "It's Raining Men"
3. "Time Warp"
4. "Like a Virgin"

Never jazz, country-western, or show tunes!

The Conversation:

Before dinner, about half the conversation should involve gym routines, and the other half the latest movies and tv programs with gay subtexts or hunky stars.

Afterwards, it will be about sex, coming out, or homophobia.

If there's a lull in the conversation, ask guys to share one of the following:
1. Your coming out story.
2. The biggest penis you ever had.
3. A date from hell.
4. A celebrity date or hookup.

The Dinner:

We eat healthy all week, so the Dinner Party is a time to show your skill.  Fatty meats, cheeses, cream sauce, rich desserts, bring them all out. Make sure it's colorful and festive-looking.

 But don't prepare too much: half of your guests will just have a salad.

The Entertainment:

Usually a movie: fast, easy, and visual. But nothing serious or hard to follow: you will be chatting constantly throughout.  A gay classic, or an action/adventure movie with a lot of beefcake.

You can substitute a gay-themed version of Trivial Pursuit or another party game, or, if you have some willing volunteers and the group is cool with it, an erotic dance or a sex show.

The Bedroom:

After the entertainment, your guests have the choice of going out to the bars together, or "sharing."

If they opt for sharing, they get to mingle and decide who will be going with who.

A committed couple or pair of friends can go with any single guy, but single guys can't hook up with each other.  No more than three per room. .  And the activity must occur in private.

You should have at least two rooms prepared for sharing.  If more than six guys are interested, they will have to wait their turn.

Spending the night is optional.

Don't be surprised if you're invited to three or four West Hollywood Parties thrown by your friends next weekend.

See also: Jimmy the Boy Toy's West Hollywood Party