Do you get the quickie?



Oh, You Naughty Boys!

Holy shit! Here the headlines go again: Homo-hating closet case hires hustler!

Yes, folks, yet another—another—fag-basher has been discovered with his pants down…and his cock hard. The whole "the biggest homophobes are usually closet cases" trope has devolved from psychological theory to tabloid truism to not-again cliché. Dang, it seems just a matter of time till Fred Phelps hisself is discovered sucking dick at some Kansas truckstop.

Still, there's a pleasingly schadenfreudian justice to the recent revelations that the cofounder of the obsessively antigay Family Research Council, one Dr. George Rekers, hired a 20-year-old hustler to schlep his luggage…and, oh yeah, to massage his dick and ass. Or so "Lucien," who plied his very old profession on, claims. And who are we gonna believe, people? Some Baptist minister with a bad comb-over, or a cute, hunky blond boy with a (reputedly) 8-inch tool? Hell, even if he's only really packing 5 inches, I'm taking the sex worker at his word.

As is usual in such cases, Rekers's excuses keep shifting. Originally, it seems he was shocked—shocked—to discover that the boy he'd rented from was, well, a rentboy. Then it turns out he was using the 10-day jaunt to Europe with the lad to tell him how Baby Jesus could make him as straight as, um, Rekers. Or as the hard-dicked doc so delightfully put it, "I needed to explore the psyche of a real live gay and witness first-hand what the lifestyle is all about so I could finally find the cure." Yeah, that's the ticket! Perfect fact-finding opportunity: a real live homo with a real big cock! At least we finally know what the "research" in "Family Research Council" actually consists of.

And now the good Christian, ever eager to turn the other cheek, is threatening lawsuits against any who'd dare call him gay. But in the meantime, you can always head for his website and download his article on "The Benefits of Forgiving Others" for only 99 cents, a ball-caressing bargain if ever there was one. (Actually, since Rekers received a startling $120,000 dollars from the state of Florida to be an expert witness against gay adoptions, he should be giving the damn thing away for free, no? And shouldn't the Sunshine State should be suing to get its bread back?)

Like the saga of Ted Haggard, who not merely fucked around with pros but colorfully did it on meth, the details of Rekers's dick-related downfall just keep on getting better and better: "Lucien's" ad touting his "smooth, sweet, tight ass" certainly made me sit up (euphemistically speaking) and take notice.

Of course, it's possible that Rekers is telling the whole truth, and he just needed somebody to carry his luggage. Oh, the t'aint-rubbing? Just a pretext for bringing souls to Jesus.  Yeah, sure.

Rekers's raunch is a media sensation now. But in a month or two, he'll just be another pathetic entry in the long list of undone 'phobes—Ed Schrock, Roy Ashburn, Larry Craig, Mark Foley—whom we can snigger over. And I'm damn sure the list will grow even longer. The news may get more routine, but the delight never lags: What's more fun, really, than the downfall of a hate-spewing hypocrite who's secretly homosexing? I mean, I never claimed to be a compassionate Christian, so I get to gloat.

But what's persistently puzzled me in the days since the sordid story first broke is How the fuck do these fuckheads figure they'll get away with it?

I mean, when Rekers and his lad-for-hire traipsed through the Miami airport, when Virginian Congressman Schrock solicited a hustler, when Washington Representative Richard Curtis got it on with a male pornstar whilst wearing women's undies, when the chairman of the Young Republican National Federation got a pal drunk and sucked his post-passing-out cock, when Spokane Mayor Jim West cruised, when Larry Craig went to that airport toilet…what the hell was going through their messed-up minds?

Was it hubris, thinking that nobody would find them out? Were they stupidly cynical enough to believe that their powerful positions gave them immunity? Or are men like Rekers clinically schizoid, actually incapable of admitting the truth that's so readily apparent to the rest of us? Maybe they're somehow swept along in tidal waves of lust that lead them to lose all judgment when confronted by, say, the prospect of hot, hung hustlers fingering their collective assholes.

Or could it be of a pathetic piece with their homophobic self-hatred?

Do they in fact want to get caught?

Back when I was a closeted young 'un, in the Paleolithic Pre-Stonewall Era, my boyfriend and I, shacked up in our college dorm room, conveniently forgot to lock our door before we climbed into bed, leading to a friend walking in on us, and a quick jettison out of our closets.

But did Jim and I really, way deep down, forget to turn that lock? Or are there, indeed, no accidents?

If these guys believe that their desires are a sin, wouldn't that make them yearn to be found out, to be condemned by their community but forgiven by Christ? Or could the careless cock-chasing be the closet queen's version of hitting bottom, a "send me to bogus reparative therapy" cry for help?

But what if that's not the case? What if, when they patronize pornsites, pissoirs, or pros, they deep-down feel not guilt, but rather a lust for liberation? That their libidos aren't looking for a cure, but yearning to breathe free? What if they, like me, needed to have their closet doors blasted off the hinges, and so they arranged, be it ever so subconsciously, to get themselves outed?

It would be nice to think so. That is after all, the Jim McGreevey model, where the former New Jersey governor, woebegone wifey at his side, came clean, then went on to lead an openly gay life with his partner, heading for a career as an—wait for it—Episcopal priest. But McGreevey was a liberal Democrat supportive of queer rights, not some straight-for-pay prick profiting from antigay career moves. Perhaps some fagbashers with same-sex desires are simply too fucked up to properly get their lives, so to speak, straight, and crypto-queer quislings like rotten rightwinger Rekers are beyond redemption.

Oh well. Out 'em all. Let God sort 'em out.

Clip this story


Comment viewing options

Select your preferred way to display the comments and click "Save settings" to activate your changes.


That is one HOT rent boy!

Comment viewing options

Select your preferred way to display the comments and click "Save settings" to activate your changes.

Simon Sheppard
May 17th, 2010
Simon Sheppard's picture
Simon Sheppard has been called by San Francisco magazine "our erotica king." He's the editor of the Lambda-Award-winning Homosex: Sixty Years of Gay Erotica  and Leathermen, and the author of...