Friday, July 5th: Two days after I arrive in West Hollywood, after my terrible year in Hell-fer-Sartain, Texas, I am sitting in the human resources department at Paramount Studios, waiting to interview for a job as an administrative assistant, when Marcus comes in to drop something off. He's my age, African-American, with very light skin, freckles, and a hairy chest. I get his phone number.Saturday, July 6th: Our date, an inside tour of Paramount Studios (yes, we saw more stuff), followed by cruising at the Gold Coast and dinner at the French Quarter in West Hollywood. He came to Los Angeles to become an actor five years ago, and has had some guest spots in tv shows and movies.
"Do you know anyone famous?" I ask with tourist zeal.
"Nobody really famous. I mean, some guys on tv. Robin Williams. Tom Hulce. I know Michael J. Fox from acting class."
I'm not impressed. I've barely heard of Michael J. Fox -- he plays Alex P. Keaton, Reagan-loving son of liberal hippie parents on the sitcom Family Ties (1982-1989), But I've only seen the show a few times.
Back to the Future, which will propel Michael to fame, premiered on July 3rd, but I haven't heard of it.
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Marcus is a good kisser, with a nice physique and a respectable size. But he likes nude wrestling: I have to pin him before I can go down on him. Then he doesn't reciprocate, he just grabs me, puts me in sort of a headlock, and falls asleep. Not my idea of a romantic evening!
Saturday, July 13th: My first date with Ivo. I'm curious about Back to the Future, the new time travel comedy starring Michael J. Fox.
"No way, man!" Ivo exclaims. "That Mike Fox thinks he's a big deal, but he's terrible in bed. They should call him Princess Teeny-Tiny!"
Weird coincidence! I think. I've been in town a week, and already I've met two people who know Michael J. Fox, and one of them is his ex-lover!
Saturday, August 10th: The promised lunch with Marcus and Michael.
Marcus picks me up and drives me to a small, bare-brick cafe on Melrose. We are just ordering drinks when Michael comes in, wearing a white shirt, buttoned down to reveal a soft smooth chest, tight bulging jeans, and sunglasses.
He's my age, short, slim, androgynous The feminine teen idol type.
He hugs Marcus and reaches out to shake my hand, then says "What the hell" and hugs me, too.
I feel a definite bulge pressing against me.
"So, are you guys together?" Michael asks as he scans the menu.
"No," Marcus says. "We dated once, but you know some guys can't handle ten inches."
"They just need a little practice, like that one night after acting class." He nudges Marcus affectionately.
"So far I've been spared those kinds of rumors," Michael continues. "I don't know why. I'm here having lunch with two hot guys, wouldn't you naturally assume that I'm gay?"
He wraps his arm around my shoulders. "What do you think? Want to be on the front page of the National Enquirer tomorrow morning?"
Is Michael cruising me? "Um...only if you bring the condoms."
"Wouldn't you know it!" he exclaims with a grin. "All the hot guys are bottoms! I'd better stick to girls."
The conversation goes on to other topics. We finish our lunch, and Michael pays and leaves.
"Was Michael cruising me?" I ask on the way home.
"Oh, no, that's just his way. He makes everybody feel like he's in love with them. And it works -- there's not a soul on Earth who doesn't like him."
Except for Ivo.
That lunch becomes one of my favorite West Hollywood stories. Sometimes I elaborate it a little, transform it into a romantic date or three-way hookup.
Friday, August 23rd: Marcus and I go to the premiere of Michael's new movie, Teen Wolf, at Graumann's Chinese Theater. The director and writers are present, but Michael is not.
"This is Hollywood," Marcus says with a shrug. "You do what sells."
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Marcus is a good kisser, with a nice physique and a respectable size. But he likes nude wrestling: I have to pin him before I can go down on him. Then he doesn't reciprocate, he just grabs me, puts me in sort of a headlock, and falls asleep. Not my idea of a romantic evening!
So no more dating. But we stay friends (that's actually how we made friends in West Hollywood).
Wednesday, July 10th: I start working at Muscle and Fitness, two days a week as a "contributing editor," aka gopher. On my first day, I meet Ivo, a stringer for the magazine, about 30 years old, a Bulgarian bodybuilder, with short brown hair, a boyish open face, massive shoulders, and slates for abs.
Saturday, July 13th: My first date with Ivo. I'm curious about Back to the Future, the new time travel comedy starring Michael J. Fox.
"No way, man!" Ivo exclaims. "That Mike Fox thinks he's a big deal, but he's terrible in bed. They should call him Princess Teeny-Tiny!"
Weird coincidence! I think. I've been in town a week, and already I've met two people who know Michael J. Fox, and one of them is his ex-lover!
But Ivo is apparently better in bed -- very passionate, a top but open to doing interfemoral instead of anal -- kissing during interfemoral is a new one for me. And open to oral -- twice before the night turns to morning, and again before breakfast.
Sunday, July 14th: I have brunch at the French Quarter with Marcus, and tell him about my date with Ivo.
"Strange," he says. "I'm completely out to Mike, and he's never said anything about being gay. Sounds like Ivo is one of these celebrity name-droppers who claims to have been with everyone from Harrison Ford to Arnold Schwarzeneggar."
"But he wasn't bragging. He got upset. He said Michael was bad in bed and should be called Princess Teeny-Tiny."
Marcus laughed. "Well, I don't have any information on Mike beneath the belt. But tell you what -- he's in London right now. When he gets back, we'll all get together, and you can ask him yourself."
Ask Michael J. Fox about his size? I don't think so! But it would be fun to meet him.
I date Ivo three or four more times, but his stories become more and more bizarre.
Saturday, August 3rd: I see Back to the Future. I'm not impressed with the heteronormative plotline.
Sunday, July 14th: I have brunch at the French Quarter with Marcus, and tell him about my date with Ivo.
"Strange," he says. "I'm completely out to Mike, and he's never said anything about being gay. Sounds like Ivo is one of these celebrity name-droppers who claims to have been with everyone from Harrison Ford to Arnold Schwarzeneggar."
"But he wasn't bragging. He got upset. He said Michael was bad in bed and should be called Princess Teeny-Tiny."
Marcus laughed. "Well, I don't have any information on Mike beneath the belt. But tell you what -- he's in London right now. When he gets back, we'll all get together, and you can ask him yourself."Ask Michael J. Fox about his size? I don't think so! But it would be fun to meet him.
I date Ivo three or four more times, but his stories become more and more bizarre.
His father was the Bulgarian ambassador; he used to hang out at the White House.
He has a degree in economics from Harvard, but turned down a professorship because he wanted to be a writer. When he returned to Bulgaria to help his cousin, he was arrested and imprisoned for six months. He has a book on his experiences coming out next year.
Paramount is producing his screenplay about a college student who discovers that he is half-alien. Scott Baio will be the star. They dated for awhile.
Monday, August 5th: Michael is back in town. Marcus offers to set up the lunch for next Saturday.
Ivo has me over for dinner that night. While he is chopping celery, I tell him about the lunch. He freezes, and his face turns bright red. "Can't you ever talk about anything but Michael J. Fox? Day after day, hour after our, nothing but Michael J. Fox! And now you have a date with him!"
I try to remember when I last mentioned him. "No, no, it's just a lunch. Marcus is coming, too."
"Bah! If you love him so much, why don't you move in with him?"
"It's just..."
"F** Mike Fox, always stealing everybody's lovers! Well, let me tell you what happened to the last guy Mike Fox stole from me -- I cut him good!" He stabs the air with his knife.
I am shocked -- and terrified. Ivo is twice as strong as me, and carrying a weapon. "Fox sounds like a real jerk!" I tell him. "I'm definitely cancelling that lunch! Um...you know what? I forgot to bring in the dessert -- there's a peach pie in the car. I'll just go get it."
I clatter out the door and down the stairs.
Thursday, August 8th: He comes into the editorial office at Muscle and Fitness to drop off a story, and pretends not to know me.
Saturday, August 10th: The promised lunch with Marcus and Michael.
Marcus picks me up and drives me to a small, bare-brick cafe on Melrose. We are just ordering drinks when Michael comes in, wearing a white shirt, buttoned down to reveal a soft smooth chest, tight bulging jeans, and sunglasses.
He's my age, short, slim, androgynous The feminine teen idol type.
He hugs Marcus and reaches out to shake my hand, then says "What the hell" and hugs me, too.I feel a definite bulge pressing against me.
"So, are you guys together?" Michael asks as he scans the menu.
"No," Marcus says. "We dated once, but you know some guys can't handle ten inches."
"They just need a little practice, like that one night after acting class." He nudges Marcus affectionately.
What night? Did Marcus and Michael hook up? Michael is either gay or amazingly gay-positive!
"So..I was dating another guy who claimed to know you," I say. "Ivo the Bulgarian bodybuilder."
Michael frowns. "Doesn't ring a bell. But you know how it is, you get a tv show, and suddenly every guy you have ever said hello to claims to be your bosom buddy."
"So..I was dating another guy who claimed to know you," I say. "Ivo the Bulgarian bodybuilder."
Michael frowns. "Doesn't ring a bell. But you know how it is, you get a tv show, and suddenly every guy you have ever said hello to claims to be your bosom buddy."
"Or your ex-lover," Marcus adds. But if he was making it up, why did he get so upset?
More after the break
"So far I've been spared those kinds of rumors," Michael continues. "I don't know why. I'm here having lunch with two hot guys, wouldn't you naturally assume that I'm gay?"He wraps his arm around my shoulders. "What do you think? Want to be on the front page of the National Enquirer tomorrow morning?"
Is Michael cruising me? "Um...only if you bring the condoms."
"Wouldn't you know it!" he exclaims with a grin. "All the hot guys are bottoms! I'd better stick to girls."
The conversation goes on to other topics. We finish our lunch, and Michael pays and leaves.
"Was Michael cruising me?" I ask on the way home.
"Oh, no, that's just his way. He makes everybody feel like he's in love with them. And it works -- there's not a soul on Earth who doesn't like him."Except for Ivo.
That lunch becomes one of my favorite West Hollywood stories. Sometimes I elaborate it a little, transform it into a romantic date or three-way hookup.
Friday, August 23rd: Marcus and I go to the premiere of Michael's new movie, Teen Wolf, at Graumann's Chinese Theater. The director and writers are present, but Michael is not.
In one scene, the high school basketball star Scott (Michael) has something to tell his buddy Stiles (Steven Levine):
Stiles: Are you going to tell me that you're a f*g? Because if you're going to tell me that you're a f*g, I don't think I can handle it.
Scott: I'm not a f*g, I'm a werewolf.
Almost every movie at the time is filled with homophobic slurs, of course, but I am still shocked. Michael is gay friendly! Why didn't he insist on changing "f*g" to "gay," and making Stiles less horrified at the idea that gay people exist?
Stiles: "If you're going to tell me that you're gay, I'm here for you."
Scott: "Thanks, but I'm not gay, I'm a werewolf."
"This is Hollywood," Marcus says with a shrug. "You do what sells."
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