Guess Who's Coming To Dinner

Picture it. August 22, Miami Beach.

Ricky Martin rushes to the penthouse suite where he agreed to meet Anderson Cooper for a fancy dinner and a nice long talk. To make up for being late, Ricky paid for a bottle of Dom Pérignon to be brought up. After a meal of filet mignon, lobster tail, asparagus tips, jasmine rice, and crème brûlée, they relax and chat.

"This is my last time for a vacation before the Democratic convention next week," sighs Anderson, kicking back in a recliner. "These South Beach Latinos are wearing me out."

"What clubs have you been meeting these boys at?" asks an incredulous Ricky as he poured another glass of champagne.

"Are you crazy? An assistant scouts them out, makes them sign confidentiality agreements, and whisks them through the freight elevator. I can’t critique Obama’s speech and be in a picture on Perez Hilton with white drops coming out of my mouth."

"I hate him! He’s a pretend Latin. And he’s always giving people like you and me shit."

"It’s not just him. It’s all these damn journalists and activists saying we’re cowards for not coming out. Well, their careers may have been made on being gay but it could derail ours. Look at big-mouth Rosie. Even she waited until her talk show was off the air before she became the raging lesbian. She’s no fool."

"I’m sooooo glad she got rid of that blog. Ugh!"

"And the Advocate pissed me off for putting me and Jodie Foster on their cover." Anderson interrupts his huff to order another Dom Pérignon. "I hate the games the gay mafia plays. I mean Jodie did it right. She never talks about her personal life. She’s not scared, she’s private just like me. Otherwise, they force you to be a spokesperson."

"I hate that whole, ‘Well if gay teens see prominent and successful out celebrities embracing their sexuality, they will have role models to encourage them to be who they really are and it will make homosexuality more accepted.’ Role model, schmole model. It’s not our responsibility to change attitudes. We’re entertainers."

"Um, you are. I’m a serious journalist."

"Ok, Mr. ‘Look at My Muscle Shirts During On-Location Assignments.’" And your memoir that avoided mention of any romances? Who do you think you’re fooling?"

"You should talk! Remember that picture of you and that other guy in bikini briefs doing push-ups on the beach? And when’s the last time someone saw you with a woman? By the way, getting that girl years ago to say you were a 10 in the sack? Puh-lease!"

"Hey, beards do no harm and keep up the fantasy. At least I’m not Usher and marry one."

"Stop being a bitter queen! It was one weekend and he never promised you anything."

"Whatever. But seriously, man, I have to shake my bon-bon for the ladies. I can’t be queer. Most of them will stop coming to the concerts. Even Luther Vandross kept the ‘she’s in his song right up to the end, God rest his soul. I just imagine the panties that girls throw on stage are 2Xist boxer briefs and I’m fine."

"I’ve done so many stories about victims of different types of discrimination in all parts of the world. My work speaks for itself, so why do I have to? I deserve some props!"

"Right! Remember when I applauded Christian Chavez of the Mexican band RBD for coming out last year? No one gave me a fist bump on that, either, even though that took guts. I spread a message of tolerance for God’s sake! I do my part."

"You know, I have to admit I’m jealous of people like Neil Patrick Harris and T.R. Knight. They come out and people applaud them for bravery. But it’s different for us."

"People don’t appreciate what we do. We work long hours, cultivate an image to satisfy our bosses and the public, and force lovers to be invisible players in our double lives. That’s a shitload of pressure and responsibility."

"You said it, papi. If I have one more fight with a boyfriend who complains I never take him anywhere so we won’t be seen, I’ll just spit."

"Do what I do. Keep their butts in the mansion with delivered food and DVDs. Let them do the club and party scene on their own time."

"I imagine you’re at home a lot now that you’ve got those twin boys. They’re so cute!"

"Thanks, silver fox. We have a play date with Jennifer and Marc and their kids tomorrow. My babies haven’t slept through the night yet. The nanny has her hands full as we speak."

"I know it’s a little tacky of me to ask but did you…"

"Oh, God, no! Surrogate all the way. How could you even think I’d go there? Yuck! Besides, my man would be jealous, especially since he helps with the kids and all."

"Your man?" Anderson raises his eyebrows. "You bitch, you never mentioned anything about a boyfriend all this time! How could you leave me out of the loop?"

Ricky drains his glass and his ears perk up when the bellboy rolling the champagne cart knocks on the front door. "Just like you, Andy, I’m private. Don’t take it personal."

No Country for Old(er) Men

Age ain’t nothing but a number. Well perhaps it’s also a deep bias.

There’s a movie that just opened in Manhattan last weekend that you may find very interesting. The documentary "Chris & Don: A Love Story" traces the relationship of two men who started their remarkably public Hollywood romance in the 1950s. But there’s something about the story that’s even more eye-catching. One was 18, and the other was 48 when they met.

The younger man was artist Don Machardy and the older guy was writer Christopher Isherwood. The relationship lasted until Isherwood’s death in 1986. Great story. But I bet that couple would face as much judgment now as they did back then.

Admit it. If you see a couple where there is a 20-something guy and one in his 40s or 50s, preconceptions immediately crop up in your head. The old fogy is a sugar daddy and/or chicken hawk with an insatiable appetite for young flesh and recapturing his youth. The twinkie is a feckless user with a daddy complex who wants to be taken care of.

Now I’ll admit it. If I’m approached or ogled at by a man who’s clearly 15-plus years older, I’m appalled. I want to swat the back of his hand with his AARP Bulletin because I see it as predatory (it’s funny how an aggressive guy my age or younger wouldn’t automatically elicit the same response.). And I assume he just goes after young guys all the time and I don’t want to be his prey.

I dated briefly a divorced man with two children who was in his 40s. He was attractive and I didn’t mind. But once we went to a restaurant and he held the menu, I dunno, eight feet in front of him to read it. And the reality hit me and he suddenly seemed so…old.

A good friend who’s just north of 40 had to deal with a lot of ribbing from me and some of his other friends when he had a string of dating these late-teen, 20s dudes. Please, I beseeched, find someone who can legally drink. And shoot for someone who can legally rent a car by himself.

Age may be the gay community’s strongest bias in terms of dating, maybe even more than race, which is already a biggie. In part, it’s because those who disparage age differences in couples are rarely corrected or admonished. Compare that to the reaction toward a friend or acquaintance who condemns an interracial couple.

Many of us just can’t believe those May-December couples are together without a suspect reason, fetish, or complex we are allowed to sneer at. After all, what can a hypothetical 25-year-old have in common with a hypothetical 45-year-old?

A middle-aged Brooklyn man I talked with recently told me about his boyfriend, 20 years his junior, and said the age difference is not a problem or a real factor in why they got together. He said they have in common hobbies and, more important, values. He considers himself very social and active and appreciates men who can keep up. His boyfriend values maturity and hates the rigors of the club and bar scene.

Besides, the picture can get nuanced. One DC guy just north of 40 actually complains about younger guys who approach him. They always seem to be flaky twinks who look to older men like him for stability and security instead of establishing those things themselves. Another 50-plus DC man feels assumptions about his motives, hobbies, sexual abilities, etc., are instantly made just upon seeing him.

It’s funny how older, straight men going after younger women are hardly ever shamed (although single women their age may resent a shrinking dating pool because of this). It’s probably because they have very visible role models. Jack Nicholson, Michael Douglas, George Lucas, and Warren Beatty have all dated or married women a generation younger. Yet notice how 30-ish T.R. Knight and his 19-year-old beau have raised eyebrows and inspired some guffaws.

I’ve realized that with the older man I mentioned, we had very different lifestyles. I liked to stay out late and go out to different places. He was a low-key creature of habit, and well-retired from the club scene. But I’ve seen men his age who could keep up with me.

And I realized I generalized too much about age, despite how open-minded I thought I was. And if I ever see "Chris & Don: A Love Story," I won’t snicker.