The Bookend Brothers Bond Over Those Fabulous Beekman Boys

OR HOW ANIMAL HUSBANDRY GOT ITS GAY ON

Just a few days ago, Gavin and I were lounging on the sofas in front of the flat screen downstairs. Having wrestled the remote from him after suggesting he was in dire need of a hot shower (he smelled like the dairy farm where he works), I flipped through the channels, trying to find an episode of Dr. Who or something else of equal "interesting" or "intellectually expansive" factors. It was a Saturday afternoon and not much was garnering my attention. I passed over the SciFi and Spike channels and began the fascinating journey through The Discovery Channel, The Learning Channel and --that sometimes frightening place on the wavelength which reminds me why I'm glad I grew up human -- Animal Planet.

Nothing was catching my eye, and I was about ready to give the remote back to Gav; however, as we passed through more nature documentaries than Jane Goodall could dream of, I saw it as I almost skimmed over Planet Green -- one of those words that enraptures all gays -- that divine and flashy adjective: FABULOUS!!!

Gavin groaned, "Mom and I saw a commercial about this. It's some new show about gay farmers."

I grinned.  "Let's see what this about," I teased as I put the remote down and settled into a pile of embroidered pillows.

Gavin rolled his eyes, but then he got comfortable, too. I think he was, perhaps, intrigued by the premise of a couple of queers prancing about a gorgeous farm and, although he'll never admit this, I think (and I would have never imagined it) he's kind of started to like watching some of my shows with me.  What Not to Wear.  Chelsea Lately.  Glee.  He always, always, always pulls up an armchair when I'm watching those McKinley High kids overexert their ice-pack-me-right-after-this-take-is-finished vocal chords on Hulu.  I've even found Rachel Berry and Finn Hudson's Journey duet (among others) on iTunes.  I haven't bought any of the albums.

So.  Anyway.  We're watching and the gents are introducing themselves.  Brent's the former VP of Martha Stewart's something and Josh used to be a drag-queen.  This could get a little uncomfortable for Gav, I thought.  Maybe I really should find something else to watch.  And then, the moment for which no one would have been prepared:  we meet Farmer Jo, a bald, hefty, rural upstate New Yorker.  He has been hired on as the gentlemen farmers' goatkeeper.  He's talking about how if it weren't for Brent and Josh and the Beekman farm, he'd have lost the goats and how much he loves his animals and he starts crying!!!  I looked over at Gavin.  He looked at me.  We burst out laughing and watched the next three episodes of The Fabulous Beekman Boys, giggling together for another 90 minutes.   



The New York Times may not agree, but I kind of know that shows are brilliant when Gavin and I -- from two completely different molds -- can bond over watching them.  The fact that Gavin, in his muck boots and manure suit, and I, in my skinny jeans and hair paste, can sit and see facets of ourselves and each other in this stupid reality television show; the fact that we can giggle about how we do or don't fit into the stereotypes of cowboy or farmer or sensitive or gay man; or the fact that we can discuss our experience with having used or being the target of derogations like redneck and fag after watching this particular TV show is really incredible.

Who knew the gays and the rural backwater boys could enjoy the same thing so much?