When I was on the long, slippery road to Gay Town but still grasping at any discernible straw of heterosexuality, I would pass the time on long plane flights by reading magazines like GQ, Details and Esquire. If the sight of boobies held greater than usual appeal, I would even slum it with a copy of FHM, Stuff or Maxim. And if I were feeling really daring, I might sneak aboard with an Entertainment Weekly or People, although I would fold the cover back on itself so that no one could easily spot my nelly love of celebs and gossip.
Now that I more fully embrace my gayness, I have made it a hobby of sorts to gently help escort the queer or questioning from the dark, unfriendly recesses of the closet. It is good for the cause, and the more heteros who know we walk in their midst, the better.
Which is why it is long past time for Details magazine to come out. I don’t just mean the next issue, I mean come out.
It is hardly novel to wink coyly about the true sexual predilections of Details. But what does seem new is that Details isn’t just stepping perilously close to the gay line anymore; it has sashayed, tap-danced and strutted its stuff so far beyond the line that the line is barely visible to it anymore.