"Rarely."—Larry King's answer when Howard Stern asked if he masturbates.
Call me old-fashioned, but I didn't go to my first gay bar until I was 21. This club, where I was soon employed, had several older regular customers who sat together. I recall thinking, "Oh, those poor old men, wistfully looking at all us young guys." These "poor old men" were probably roughly 40 years old, but to an impressionable youth, they might as well have been 100. With time comes perspective. Now that I am in my 40s, I often think to myself that perhaps younger men look at me in that same dismissive way.
I share this story because last week, someone I never heard of wrote an article called "Gay Men and the Curse of the Peter Pan Syndrome." The gist of the article is that gay men over 40 should not go to bars. The thirty- and fortysomethings are described as solely interested in Botox, barhopping and H&M wardrobes—as if those were bad things! This writer says most of the gay men he's met "had never mentally passed the age of 25"—which, if you ask me, says more about the author than his associates.
So, who is this lad? He's young enough to include on his resume jobs he stayed at for three months. He is cute and blonde—probably not a natural blonde, but let he who is without peroxide cast the first stone. What he doesn't know ( but it's obvious from his pictures ) is that he's gonna be much cuter in his 30s, maybe even in his 40s. That said, I'm not condemning his views. It's kind of a rite of passage—the young feel it's their turn, and why are the older folk still hanging around. I get it. There's some validity in his argument—as I'm sure someone who has mentally passed the age of 25 could explain to him.
I have known Belinda Carlisle since I was in my 20s. ( Last week, she celebrated her birthday on the same day as Big Mama Masters. ) So I have, in essence, known her son James Duke Mason since before he was born. But we didn't really get to know each other until he came out as a teen. I vividly recall a group of us hanging out after a Go-Go's concert. Dukey introduced me to someone as "one of my mom's good friends." OUCH! Up until that moment, I kinda felt like one of the gang. Suddenly, I was a chaperone. This was driven home when one of his friends asked, "What was it like being backstage with The Go-Go's 20 years ago?" I would have been insulted, except I was able to answer the question!!
As you all know, I'm psychic. Actually, I'm more of an empath—like that chick on Star Trek: The Next Generation whose name I can't remember. I think she was Greek, and very nice when I met her. See, if I were psychic, I'd remember her name. But as an empath, I know she really doesn't care. You know who does care? You—my faithful readers. My head is being bombarded with your silent cries, "Billy, get to the friggin' point." And I will—almost immediately. But before I do, I'd like to just promise that this will all come together in the end—except for coming up with the name of whomever played Deanna Troi.
West Hollywood, California, is bracing itself for what will certainly be a contentious election season for City Council, which will take place in March 2015. The latest person to throw his hat in the ring is my aforementioned buddy, Belinda's baby boy, James Duke Mason. Dukey seems to be running on a platform of wanting to save West Hollywood from the vast commercialization and rising rental costs which have pushed out most of the people who actually founded the city. Alas, this may be a case of closing the barn door after the horse escaped. I've been saying for years that because of WeHo's appealing geographic position between Hollywood and Beverly Hills ( to say nothing of housing the Sunset Strip ), the gentrification of the once-primarily gay portion of Santa Monica Boulevard is already a fait accompli. Still, I give him credit for the attempt. You can learn more and support his campaign by checking out JamesDukeMason.com .
In a fascinating case of a gay person becoming straight—or at least giving the appearance of being straight—comes the story of country singer Nate Green. Not being a devotee of country music, I had never heard of him, but certainly the hunky blonde is easy on the eyes. And, yet, he does look familiar. In fact, he resembles a very hot fitness model named Josey Greenwell who once dated Reichen's ex, Rodiney from The A-List: New York.
When Josey was featured in DNA magazine, he talked about his musical aspirations and said, "Music should be about talent and not sexuality, but I'm proud of mine nonetheless." Josey even performed at Detroit Pride in 2012. What a difference a couple of years makes. It seems that Josey has now become Nate and is cultivating a straight female audience. I am not the first to figure this out. Quite a few of Josey's former fans tried to interact with him on a Nate Green Facebook fan page. Not only were their comments quickly deleted, they were aleo threatened with legal action regarding any gay-oriented posts. Of course, Nate/Josey has no say over what appears on BillyMasters.com—which include some sizzling snaps and videos of him and Rodiney.
Our "Ask Billy" question comes from Howard in Austin: "Who is Emblem3? I saw them doing the ALS challenge nude, and they were really hot."
Emblem3 is a pop trio who came out of The X Factor. Actually, calling the act a trio is probably a misnomer. The group did consist of brothers Wesley and Keaton Stromberg, and Drew Chadwick. Apparently, Drew recently left the band for something with higher visibility—like perhaps working a Wendy's drive-thru. In their brief time together, the tasty trio seemed to have a penchant for posing au naturale. More recently, the Stromberg brothers did, indeed, participate in the ice bucket challenge. Some of the buff boys' choice bits can be found on BillyMasters.com .
When country music can turn a gay man straight, it's definitely time to end yet another column. Just after filing this report, I'm off to the Emmys. So I'm sure you can expect some deep dishing on www.BillyMasters.com—the site that never sleeps. If you've got a question, send it along to Billy@BillyMasters.com and I promise to get back to you before I get a call from Marina Sirtis. ( I knew I'd come up with her name. ) Until next time, remember, one man's filth is another man's bible.
