Me and Gay Nixon

Everywhere I go lately everyone keeps asking me if I’d be willing to talk with them about the time I spent with Richard Nixon. Well, the producer who called from MSNBC put it that way, the child like idiot who just rang me from London’s Daily Globe asked if I “ever did the homo nasty with super gay former president and currently dead Richard “Dick” Nixon.” I just smiled seductively and then I answered, “did you just say dick?”

I knew it would come out at some point, it had to really, when you think about it.

Here’s the facts. I was a handsome young man spending my summer with my mother and step brothers on a hot summer night in a god forsaken Baja Mexico town. It was actually a glorious time, we were all young, healthy, fun and good to be around. Then one evening in August a beautiful young Mexican woman named Marta came running down the beach calling out, “Mateo, Mateo, come quickly, Dick is leaving.”

Of course, this sounded ominous to me too, so I ran up from the beach and she was in this grassy hut, watching a small black and white television set. There on the screen sat the United States most popular president in history, one Milhous Nixon. A sensual speciman of a man, both honest and handsome. Even then I had something of a crush on him. He was speaking, but because we were deep into Baja, his voice was being dubbed in by a husky woman’s Spanish speaking voice and all I could make out was, “sey sequential por favor, me amigo esta bien todas el burrito.” Later I would learn that dear Mr. President had resigned because the evil democrats had somehow falsified documents, evidence, testimony and video that proved without a doubt that Nixon and some hired evil henchman had indeed killed thousands of innocent virgins in an elementary school in Kentucky, or something like that. It was all in Mexican and a long time ago.

Needless to say, Dick Nixon did not stick around to be kicked around, he high tailed it out of DC on Air Force Two and landed in Orange County California, rented a Ford Galaxy 500 and drove to San Clemente. The former Western White House was a shambles now, and Dick would sit there in silence for the next 3 months, sometimes crying into the night, sometimes running naked on the beach, frightening foreign tourists and scaring the surfers.

Some time later it was a day in February and I was taking a break from my studies at nearby San Diego State University. I was bronzing myself at the Cortez Bay nude beach. After about half an hour I rolled over and when I looked up there was a grumpy secret service agent in a Speedo and a holster, looking down at me with a mischievous grin on his face, “Nixon is looking for privacy, mind if he puts a towel down?” He asked. I told him not at all and soon enough I was having sun tan oil applied to my back by the disgraced former president.

What started out as a simple day in the sun soon flourished into the most magical love story anyone could imagine. Nixon was funny and shy, in fact he could not actually admit to enjoying sexual relations, he could only speak in metaphor when referring to sex. One night, after we had been apart for a few days and I knew he must really want me, he called me from his “red” phone and he said, “I really need to drive the Ford,” which was his term for me to get over there wearing nothing but short running shorts and a tank top, which was the style of the times.

Of course, dating Dick was not always Driving the Ford or Singing to Reagan, if you catch my drift, no sometimes he would get drunk and say mean things, about people I’ve either never heard of, or did not care about. I am sure historically, J. Edgar means something to someone, but to me, it was just more slurred insults about just another drag queen from the streets of DC. Long lost history that I did not care much about.

Our torrid love could not last and it fell apart one night when I stopped by the San Clemente house. Parked in front were about 20 large black SUV’s and two or three large industrial sized limousines. I slowed as I walked up the drive and noticed a cadre of secret service agents milling around. All of a sudden, as if on cue, they all listened attentively to their ear pieces and began moving toward the vehicles. The front door of Nixons home opened and the current President of the United States at the time, William Jefferson Clinton walked out, turned, kissed Nixon on the cheek and then turned again and walked to his car, where an agent was holding the door open. Nixon waved a large Cuban cigar at the President at said in a sweet, seductive tone I knew all too well, “see ya again Bill.”

I turned, crying in shame and walked away, never to return. Like so many Americans before me, Nixon had broken my heart with his careless lies and abuse of power.