Category Archives: Gay

Since when does an old-fashioned butter-churning escapade turn into something too titillating (read: too gay) for Comcast to air it during RuPaul’s Freaking Drag Race? Since now, apparently, as the commercial below was just banned by Comcast in an effort to solidify its evil reputation. Oh well, you know the Boy butter company is only going to get even more publicity from this, so lucky them. I’m more interested in promoting anything that Seth Fornea features so prominently in. (I mean, hello. And hello. And, umm, hi there.)

And to think, the only butter-churning experience I’ve had likely involved some play-acting in Old Sturbridge Village by a woman who would probably give Skip Montross douche-chills. (Buy us a cocktail one day and he’ll tell you all about it.)

I’ll tell my own version of that some other day, as it has no place in the light and frothy mid-day post. Instead, here’s an uplifting video of other folks who find out what their Dads thought of them coming out. It was originally uploaded for Father’s Day, but we need a little levity before June, so take a look.

All of them. Just watch.

“Director Terry Rayment’s 35mm film “Understanding” poignantly depicts the transformational power of love and happiness. Cinematographer Kate Arizmendi captured all of the emotions beautifully on KODAK VISION3 500T 5219.”

There’s no good reason for not watching this amazing film until now, but I just saw ‘Carol’ and you should stop what you’re doing and watch it too. Well, hold that thought. It’s actually got a big holiday background to it, so wait a month or two, but definitely queue it up. Two of my favorite performers – Cate Blanchett and Rooney Mara – give nuanced, subtle, and mesmerizing performances as two women caught up in a love affair that was not possible in its time. Definitely food for thought on this National Coming Out Day.

Dearest. There are no accidents and he would have found us one way or another. Everything comes full circle. Be grateful it was sooner rather than later. You’ll think it harsh of me to say so, but no explanation I offer will satisfy you. Please don’t be angry when I tell you that you seek resolutions and explanations because you’re young. But you will understand this one day. And when it happens, I want you to imagine me there to greet you, our lives stretched out ahead of us, a perpetual sunrise. But until then, there must be no contact between us. I have much to do, and you, my darling, even more. Please believe that I would do anything to see you happy. So, I do the only thing I can… I release you. ~ Carol

Though it’s Tuesday it certainly feels like a Monday, and having just returned from a wonderful vacation in Maine, I’m feeling lazy enough for a recap. Since today is National Coming Out Day, why don’t we do a big gay recap?

Let’s begin with a parade.

A gay publication.

Gay pride.

Marriage equality.

The secret.

The progress.

Like a religion.

A lovely couple.

An anchor and a muse.

The bad… and the good.

The art.

The art, again.

The moon & the fag.

The non-gay.

The gay hero.

The gay hero, again.

The gay radio.

The hella cute gay.

The gay heart.

The gay hope.

This is so gay.

Gay shame.

Gay threats.

Gay lives lost.

And a visit to a gay bar with my Mom.

The adorably charming Noam Ash and his smash YouTube phenomenon ‘My Gay Roommate’ have returned with brand new half-hour webisodes. A Kickstarter campaign has just begun as well, to produce a pilot with all the professional bells and whistles that such incredible raw talent deserves. The time has definitely come for this kind of entertainment. The premise of the reloaded show turns the traditional notion of gay-guy-as-outsider on its pretty little head.

Nick and Max are roommates at Tuffet University, a classic liberal arts college complete with battalions of student groups, over-achieving freshmen, upperclassmen burnouts and the self-righteous indignation that characterizes Northeastern academia.

Nick Cohen is a newly out Jewish boy with OCD tendencies, while his roommate Max Finnegan is a broad-shouldered slob who may or may not have peaked in high school. Our unlikely duo takes on a freshman year full of firsts with a rascally band of suitemates: Rupert (an effeminate ladies man), his roommate Dom (the star linebacker) and Ernie (a techie Japanophile). They are joined by Sloane, Max’s no-bullshit upperclassman love interest, and her misanthropic roommate Mildred who become part of the crew.

The world of My Gay Roommate flips the social paradigm: being gay is not an issue, the football players are the underdogs while the a capella singers are the popular kids, the frat boys are the tame and rule-abiding students while the Women’s Rugby Team is the drug dealing muscle.

In this way, the show moves past the cliche gay-best-friend-side-kick and homophobic-straight-man relationship we see so often. My Gay Roommate presents a way of life that’s a little more 2016 – where a gay guy and straight guy are just friends. Best friends.

With all the darkness in the world right now, we need this kind of show: an escape, a glimpse of happiness, a laugh at how the universe should be. Like the best classic sitcoms, there is a heart here that fuels the wit and hilarity, a sense of goodness and friendship that cradles the sexy sauciness and forges a path into a beautifully bold future. To help out, because art is always a worthwhile investment, visit the Kickstarter page and pledge what you can. Also be sure to check out what awesomeness has come before on their YouTube channel. And please spread the good word!

One of the more touching stories that came out of the Orlando shooting at Pulse Nightclub was that of a mother and son who had gone out to dance together. Such an advance in our cultural landscape was enough to bring a tear to my eye, but reading about how this woman had also beat cancer a few times, and was simply out supporting her son and dancing the night away made it even more affecting. They were in my mind as my Mom and I were recently in Boston for a condo meeting. As we walked by Club Cafe and saw the memorial candles flickering before a rainbow flag, I knew we had to go in. Club Cafe had been the very first gay bar I ever entered, and suddenly every gay bar was imbued with a bit more import.

———————————————————————————————————————————-

It was 1995. I was only twenty years old, but my friend John (the Structure store manager at the time) said getting in wouldn’t be a problem. “He looks better dressed and more professional than either of us!” he reasoned to his wary friend who was along for the proposed jaunt to Club Cafe. We were just finishing up our shift at Structure and John had invited me to join them for some dancing. I was wearing black pants, a white shirt, and a velvet vest. Hey, it was the 90’s, and I was an International Male devotee, Structure clothing be damned.

That fall I was transitioning from Brandeis to Boston, and, whether I knew it or not, from college kid to young adult. The brisk breeze of the season swept us along the cobblestoned history of Faneuil Hall all the way to the brownstones of Back Bay. I will admit to being a little nervous about getting into the club, but John reassured me that my outfit would get us in without any sort of ID check. More than that, I was a little nervous about what it would be like. Would they think I was arrogant? Would they think I was pathetic? Would they think I didn’t belong there? Would they think my vest was hideous?

When you’re a gay person going into the very straight world, these are the sorts of questions you ask yourself every single day. They become second nature, and so it becomes second nature to doubt and wonder about yourself constantly. If you’ve never had to worry about such worth on a daily basis, you cannot know what this does to a person. That’s the onus I had to overcome when walking into Club Cafe that night.

We made it past the doorman with ease. (God, I thought, do I really look that old already?) Suddenly, we seemed to be in a sea of people. Music videos played on small screens above our heads, as patrons danced and moved in a mass of unity. I joined them, half-heartedly dancing, but all I really wanted to do was watch – and so I did. What I saw was neither groundbreaking nor extraordinary in any objective sense, but to me it was a portal to a secret world for which I’d been searching my entire life. The mood was exultant, unembarrassed, giddy, dramatic, happy and authentic. There was laughter and smiles, some moody mayhem and lovers’ quarrels, and even a few sad-looking loners. Mostly, though, I was taken by how comfortable and carefree everyone was. No one was on-guard or afraid, no one was pretending to be straight, and no one was ashamed. Best of all, for someone who gets noticed in ways both good and bad, I went completely unfussed-over or bothered. For one of the first times in my life, I was quietly and nonchalantly accepted as one of the group. My ‘otherness’ did not merit mention. Not my vest, not my hair, not my heritage, not even my wit or charm – and at long last I felt at ease.

Once again, if you’ve had the luxury of being around people like you all your life, you cannot understand or comprehend the profound shift in perspective that being around similar people suddenly produced. More than a weight being lifted off an already-heavy heart, this was a revelation – a transcendent experience that illuminated the possibility of happiness and freedom. The only thing I’d been taught about being gay up to that point was shame and fear and silence. Two decades of that can do irrevocable damage to the soul, but somewhere in my heart I’d harbored the hope that I was not bad, that I didn’t need to be ashamed, that I was not less than anyone else. Two decades later, I think I’m almost there.

—————————————————————————————————————-

As my Mom and I sat down with our gin and tonic and glass of wine, I looked around. There were far less people about, but the same easy and relaxed atmosphere prevailed. I told her how this was the first gay bar I’d ever been to, and I had one of those full-circle moments that most people dream about but never have the fortune to experience. On that night, remembering what happened in Orlando, we did it for that mother and son who would never go dancing again.

As if being named Hunk of the Day here wasn’t enough, Canadian Prime Minister Justin Trudeau just marched in the Toronto Gay Pride Parade, and even took a water gun blast with bonhomie and good humor – all the while looking hotter than usual. It’s never too late to move to Canada…