To really understand your manhood, brandish the mic at a piano bar and belt out “I Don’t Know How to Love Him,” a song from “Jesus Christ Superstar” in which Mary Magdalene yearns for the son of God.
Yes, that was me, soaking up the hoots and hollers of co-workers, one of whom stuffed dollars in my jeans.
Playing against type is one way to affirm what type we are. (Witness The Rock preening as a gay bodyguard in last year’s movie “Be Cool.”) Another way was to read men’s magazines, like Playboy and Esquire in their prime.
Not anymore, as an essay about lusting for your doctor in a recent issue of Details makes clear. Male journals no longer cement our identity – they fragment it with a sly question:
Gay or straight?
If the answer seems clear, you probably watch nothing but football (attaboy), or you’re in denial about all those home-improvement and makeover shows on your TiVo.
Because “gay” in this sense isn’t about sex per se. It’s about the rising influence of a culture, and how a majority of men who aren’t gay accept those who are.
Men’s magazines today seem to exist in reaction to homosexuality. The latest covers say it all: Bill Clinton on Esquire (“Alpha male, not gay”); Vince Vaughn on GQ (“Not gay, but also not threatening”); Cindy Crawford on Maxim (“Dude, don’t even think about it”); Jake Gyllenhaal on Details (“Wanna be him or be with him?”).
As for Details, the November issue teases an essay by Augusten Burroughs: “No young man in his right mind wants to have to see a cardiologist. But when the doctor is incredibly hot, well, that just might be enough to make a guy pine for open-heart surgery.”
Hmmm. Sexy doctor. Go to Page 126.
Augusten Burroughs’ cardiologist is a dude; Augusten Burroughs is also a dude. If I’d read a few more back issues, this might not have struck me.
(Notice that it’s “struck,” not “startled” or “appalled.” Politics, morality and other nonsense aside, I’m fine with homosexuality because any other response amounts to arguing with the color blue. Blue exists. It’s not everyone’s favorite color, but the Broncos aren’t going to stop wearing it.)
So when did a mainstream men’s magazine start inviting everyone to the table? In the case of Details, apparently, ever since its relaunch five years ago.
“So long as a story is interesting to gay and straight readers, we will publish it,” Details editor in chief Daniel Peres told me recently. He added: “It’s no longer that ‘X’ is interesting to gays and ‘Y’ is interesting to straights.” The ideal reader is confident and comfortable enough with his masculinity.
Straight men may pretend to accept homosexuality, Peres said, but statements like “This is my gay friend at the office” point to homophobia.
All true enough, it seems. But back when Playboy ran its historic interviews and Esquire truly presented “man at his best,” we didn’t talk about being “comfortable” with our masculinity. It was a given. We didn’t read magazines to find out who we were; we already knew.
“Exotic” meant home fries instead of Tater Tots with our steak. Turn-ons included hot women and cold beer. We were happy to be cave men.
No, I’m not arguing for a return to those days, which included misogyny and stifling roles. But I would like a better idea of what’s replacing them.
In a note from October’s Details, Peres tries to swat away a persistent question over the past five years: “Is Details gay?”
He now feels less inclined to spin this reply: “Details … a queer magazine? NEVER.” His new tack goes something like, “Question our sexuality? Question your own, pal.”
What I’m meant to hear is enlightened resolve. What I really hear is the coyness of Pat, the maddening “Saturday Night Live” character of indeterminate sex and sexual preference.
Anyway … set a spell and I’ll sing from that “Jesus Christ Superstar” song. You’ll know for certain I ain’t no woman.
A Guy Thing runs every other week. Staff writer Vic Vogler can be reached at 303-820-1749 or vvogler@denverpost.com.
