Dream Boy

The first Hardy Boys episode aired in January 1977. I loved it from the start. I loved Nancy Drew, too, but I was especially drawn to the Hardy Boys. Obviously, the boys were supposed to be brothers, but they seemed more like a couple. They hung out together, they traveled together, and they occasionally solved crimes together. Rarely did you see such a close bond between two young men on a TV show. I had just figured out I was gay, so it’s no wonder seeing intimacy between two cute young men thrilled me. I was particularly attracted to Shaun. I was 11, and Shaun Cassidy was 18, but my crush was by no means innocent. I can remember having explicit fantasies involving Shaun and me, and occasionally Parker Stevenson, too. I would have been thrilled if Shaun took me to a movie or to Burger King or to Transylvania or one of the other cool places they went on the show, but I would have hoped that we would have had some private fun without our clothes on at some point. That’s just the kind of boy I was, blushing and painfully shy on the surface, and a smoldering sexpot underneath.

Several years and many crushes later, I saw The Outsiders, and I fell in love with Ponyboy played by C. Thomas Howell. Although not many would think Howell and Cassidy were related, they were remarkably similar in type. Both were cute and boyish, and more pretty than handsome. Both had a soft and gentle side to their nature, at least on screen. Neither seemed particularly athletic or competitive. Neither had that drive to prove their manhood. And Howell especially displayed a certain amount of vulnerability.

I notice young men like that even now. I don’t expect to find one at this late date. And no, that’s not because I’m insecure or because I’m being down on myself. That might have had something to do with me not finding my Ponyboy 20 or 30 years ago, but now I’m just facing reality. Few twenty-year-old pretty boys with sweet dispositions want to date an overweight 50-year-old without money, and I don’t hold that against them. It’s just the way things are. But I still notice, and I still enjoy looking and dreaming.

It might make some nervous that I’m attracted to younger men. Many might not find it particularly surprising but would prefer I keep such thoughts to myself. Some might think the attraction needs an explanation. They might say I’m refusing to grow up like Peter Pan or that I’m afraid of getting old or dying. They might say that even though I’m gay, I still have a biological drive to plant my seed in someone young and healthy. People often seem to want to find explanations for things that make them uncomfortable. When I was 11 and lusting after Shaun Cassidy, an older teenage boy, some probably would have said I needed a strong male role model to teach me how to be a man. I don’t put much stock in the explanations. I have grown older over the years, and my archetypal dream boy has remained relatively constant. At first, he was an older man. Then he was a peer. And now he’s younger. The image of him seems to be hardwired into my brain. I don’t want to let him go even if the fantasy never came true. He is my ideal, this sweet, pretty boy who lives in my head, my Holy Grail. If I no longer remembered him, if I stopped desiring him, it would probably be the end of me.