No, not "Can you help me redecorate my pool house." It's "When did you know you were gay?" This is how doctors must feel when people ask them to diagnose their psoriasis at cocktail parties. Do people ask heteros like Alphaboss when he first knew he liked you-know-what? But I accept it is my lot in life to educate. And if my sharing my "When I knew" story can help one young reader out there struggling with his identity...so be it. I shall share the deepest, darkest, and most shameful letter of my life - the story of my first and only heterosexual encounter.
It was the Fall of 1993 and I was a mere boy of 13. As you might expect , I was a happy boy, but a confused boy. Other boys I knew had started to talk about girls, even talk to girls about doing things I couldn't imagine. It's not that I didn't like girls, quite the contrary! I loved girls! We shared so many common interests: baking, shopping, 90210, Teen Beat Magazine, pretending to be sick during gym class, using the word 'like' a bunch, Johnny Depp. I mean, who was I going to talk to about Oprah in the boys' room? Still, I thought this meant that I got girls, right? That I'd make an ideal husband one day because girls really want a guy who they can garden with, right?
The scene was Mikey Klopfowitz's Bar Mitzvah. Mikey wasn't the only Jewish boy in town, just the only one who's mother made him invite everyone in our grade. I knew him just a little, but I was quite excited for my first Jewish experience. I was a confusing fellow and learning about Jewish culture sounded like an ideal way to spend a Saturday afternoon. On top of the educational experience, I got to dress up in a suit! I've got to tell you, I looked absolutely, finger-lickin' adorable!
The service was nice, but what a workout! I remember counting how many times we stood up and sat back down (18). We had to hold these heavy books, as well. I remember thinking that this was why all the Jewish boys I know were in such great shape!
Then, we went to the Jurassic Park-themed reception. The first thing I remember, other than sitting at the Velocaraptor table, is Pigs in a Blanket. And dumplings. And mini hamburgers. And chicken skewers. Those Jews knew how to eat! But another thing I remember was Sid Stapleton calling me into a room off to the side, where all the kids from my class were drinking Jewish wine (which I've since come to realize was Manischewitz), and playing "Spin the Bottle."
Oh, memories of Spin the Bottle...I fondly recall when Kevin and Winnie played the kissing game on "The Wonder Years." And I will always remember the tingly feeling I got watching DJ Tanner spin it on "Full House." And I remember thinking, "Lloyd, YOU get to be like those cool kids in TV!" I was ready, and excited, to Spin! And, I thought, I was prepared for the "prize" at the end.
"Lloyd," Sid said, smiling, "Get in there! Spin the bottle!" So I get in the middle of the teeming pre-teens, kneeled at the wine bottle, and gave it a spin.
Round it went. Was it going to be Ginger, the sweet, chubby girl? The bottle spun on. Perhaps my lips would meet with those of Tammy, the best soccer player in the grade? The bottle spun on. Would I share my first kiss with Gina, the tough girl who once pulled down my pants in the auditorium? No, for the bottle spun on, thank God.
And then it stopped on Mindy McNamara, the prettiest girl there. Nervously, I smiled at her. And Mindy, a shy girl with a big smile, stood up, ready to kiss. We stood, eye-to-eye, nose-to-nose, mouth-to-mouth. We stuck out our butts and leaned in for the big one. And we touched lips...
But as we kissed I felt a violent chill run through my body. It started at my toes and barreled up my legs. It rocked my intestines and left my stomach laying in its hideous wake. It collapsed my lungs and stopped my heart and shot up my esophagus and out it came...
Yup, I vomited all over poor Mindy McNamara, the prettiest girl there.
I think it was then I realized, I didn't like girls as much as I thought I did.
Mindy, if you're reading this, I am very sorry, but if it weren't for you, who knows what steps I may have taken and if they would have led me here, blogging about you, with the love of my life, Tom, waiting for me at home.
So dear Mindy, the prettiest girl I ever knew, thank you from the bottom of my toes.
I love you all.
Mo49 asked: "Hey Lloyd why don't you find out whats going on with Silo and write a letter about that."
Well, Mo49, you asked and you shall receive...First, a little itty bit of background for those unfamiliar with the 'Silo' story - and my fixation with it. As most of you dear readers know, I have a borderline stalker fascination with a couple of It boys, particularly one blue-eyed swarthy Vincent Chase. So when my sources informed me awhile back that he was going to be doing 'Silo,' a futurisitic, apocalyptic farmer revolutionary epic directed by Billy Walsh (of 'Medellin' and 'Queens Boulevard')...well, let's just say, this rooster was crowing. As far as I'm concerned the only thing better than Vince in an Aquaman unitard is Vince shirtless and in overalls.
Here's the Hollywood dirt on the farm flick. A few years back, when Vince was riding high off the success of 'Aquaman,' and the early buzz of 'Medellin,' Vince and Billy Walsh optioned a book called 'Lost in the Clouds,' a tale a woe and wonder (and some say homosexual lust!) atop snowy Mount Annapurna, and sold it for quite a hefty sum. After months in seclusion, Billy Walsh returned not with the adapted-for-the-big-screen version of 'Clouds,' but with 'Silo.'
With a studio in place, they were ready to shoot. At one point I had even heard a little something about Anna Faris playing the role of the "brother" (maybe as a Drag King??), but that never panned out.
But everything went South in the South of France. You may have heard stories about the infamous 'Medellin' screening in Cannes. I have heard from a first-hand source, who may or may not be the Alphaboss, that sitting in that theater was "worse than an adult circumcision." At that point there was nothing the God himself could do to save the lovely Vincent Chase's career. 'Medellin' was a bomb, and destroyed everything around it.
That, of course, included 'Silo,' which was meant as a big summer tentpole movie for a certain studio which instead rushed a certain project into production about a certain fast car driver with a certain simian sidekick into production way too early, which ran way overbudget and did no business...but I digress.
There are other mitigating factors, of course. Billy Walsh, as you may have heard, has disappeared. No one has heard from him since that night in France. Is he dead? Is he in hiding? Is he living as a woman in Sicily? Who knows. And, frankly, who cares?! Word is, he was a jerk and a meanie and a menace and a nuisance. He certainly was no help for fair Vincent's career. Nor was he of any benefit to the immediate atmosphere. The man smelled like a sweaty sneaker, or so I've been told.... And, if you are reading this Mr. Walsh, it's one thing for the Alphaboss to refer to a gay man as "Homo Erectus," but it is quite another to be berated by an actual Neanderthal. Just saying...
Additionally, the executive in charge of the project, has since left that studio. Not that that would have mattered, because after the disaster on the French Riviera, all attempts to revive 'Silo' as a comeback vehicle for Vincent Chase were kaput.
This was all over a year ago, though. And, while 'Silo' still appears on development sheets (aka in "development hell"), it is without writer, without director, without a studio executive and, it would seem, without a star...for if one is being honest with one's self, one must admit when one's shining star has dimmed. And, lovely Vince, has sadly lost some of his luster...
So that, Mo49, is the lamentable story of 'Silo.'
I fare thee well...
Dear readers, in loving tribute to the woman whose presence on the Republican ticket delivered the presidency to the sexiest President ever, Barack Obama:
Oh, Sarah, sweet Sarah! So pretty and dumb.
You came to us like a vision out of some,
Horrible fantasy movie that might,
Play in the dreams of Rush Limbaugh at night.
Your hemline rising as the polls plummet,
You called to kick Russia out the G-8 summit.
But be nice to the one-time world super power.
They're your next door neighbor, and you might need flour.
Ayers! Khalidi! And Reverend Wright!
"No one cares!" shouts America, black, brown and white.
But keep at it, you did, like a hockey enforcer.
McCain said to stop, but you cried, "Please, more, sir!"
You represent the scummy, the vile, the low,
But, Sarah, sweet Sarah, what you do not know,
Is we're not mean, not cruel, our brains are not slow,
So, as they say in Alaska, have fun in the snow!
Close your eyes, kind readers, and allow me to take you back to the springtime of 2004. Picture a pleasantly plump, yet undeniably adorable, homosexual male of Asian heritage as he enters Footaction - his first foray ever into an athletics store of any kind. You see, a mere week before, this same homosexual male was informed by this doctor that his cholesterol is high and he needs to exercise or it could be an early departure from this sweet, cruel world. This same homosexual male had not been in any type of committed relationship in nearly a decade and was reduced to cruising for strange men at odd bars in inconvenient locations. Our hero was not at his finest.
So, into the Footaction he goes, on a quest for a pair of Nikes that wouldn't compromise his fashionistic integrity. Confused, bewildered, alone he scours the shelves, looking up, looking down, looking in the children's and women's sections. Nothing worked for this young prince. That is, until something felt just right. "May I help you, sir?" the young employee said.
"Uh, yes. I'm looking for an athletic shoe good for powerwalking," I replied, butterflies in my chest!
"Sure. Come right this way."
I followed him, but I was really following my destiny. As he wriggled my bony ankle into a fashion-forward pair of New Balances, I could see my entire future. But I didn't have the guts to act...
You see, my Tom, he's not like other gays. He plays sports. He watches Bruce Lee movies. He's really good with money. I loved him instantly, but would he love me back? I couldn't act.
As I walked out, deflated despite carrying the perfect powerwalking shoes, Tom ran up to me, "Hey, Lloyd!" That sneaky devil, getting my name off my credit card...
I turned around, "Yes."
"Would you like to hang out sometime, maybe?"
Yes! Yes I would! And yes we did! Five times that week. Six times the next. And nearly every day since.
On our one year anniversary, I took Tom up to the Getty, and as we overlooked the city, Tom said, "So...Lloyd. Are you ever going to man up and ask me to marry you?"
What?! Marriage? This was a shock to my system. It's not that I didn't love Tom, or that I didn't want to spend my life with him, it's that, if I've learned anything from the Alphaboss over the years, it's NEVER GET MARRIED. What if things go south? He'll want half my money! He'll want my possessions! He'll want half of any animal or foreign-born child we adopt! No. I can't get married. It's just not something I ever want to do.
Luckily for me, gays can't get married! So it was very easy for me to say, "Now, Tom, I am a law-abiding citizen and I absolutely will marry you - as soon as it is legal in our home state of California." I NEVER thought that it ever actually would be made legal.
But, alas, it is legal. And, alas, I have made a promise. But you, yes YOU READERS, can get me out of it!
Vote YES on Prop 8.
Believe me, I know that I am aligning myself with the creepiest of creeps:
There are the out-of-state Mormons who have flooded the airways with ridiculously misleading ads. There are the radical right fearmongers, who try to scare parents into thinking gay marriage will be taught in schools (despite there being NO requirement for California public schools to teach children about marriage). There's Focus on the Family, a woefully hypocritical institution who think that Barack Obama's perfect nuclear family is somehow flawed, while Sarah Palin's family - with the forced wedlock of Bristol and that hunk Levi - is a good example of the American Ideal. Then there's John McCain. Uck. It pains me more than anything to be in league with him. Even Arnold Schwarzenegger isn't on his side on this one.
But I am...See, you don't understand, marriage is SCARY. And I thought I would be able to avoid it forever, seeing how I'm gay and all.
So, if you care about equal rights for gay people, protection of the constitution, basic fairness and justice, vote no on Prop 8.
But! If you care about ME and my sanity, vote YES on Prop 8.
Oy. I can already hear "Here Comes the Bride" playing in my head.
Love you guys!