As usual, Barbara sat at her computer, reading the news aloud to her friend of 40 years, Connie. Suddenly Barbara shrieked.

“What is it? Did that thing give you a shock? I just know you can’t trust computers.”

“Tab Hunter is gay!” Barbara blurted.

“What?”

“It says so right here on the CNN website,” said Barbara, pointing to the screen.

“I don’t believe it. No sir. Can’t be,” sniffed Connie.

“He’s writing his autobiography and he’s … y’know, coming out!”

Connie lurched out of her chair and peered at the screen. “It’s a hoax. Just trying to sell more books.”

“Do you think so?” asked Barbara.

“I do,” said Connie emphatically. “I saw every film Tab made. He was a man’s man.”

“That’s how it’s starting to look,” remarked Barbara. “Remember him in Damn Yankees!?”

“Do I?” said Connie rhetorically. “I saw it every night for a week. My girlfriend Shirley Rozinski and I decided he was the dreamiest movie star ever,” she said, looking off in the distance. “There’s no way he was queer as a three-dollar bill.”

“He would know, don’t you think?” said Barbara.

“I won’t have it,” said Connie. “First Rock Hudson. Then I heard rumors about James Dean. Then you had to tell me Tony Curtis said he messed around with anything that wasn’t nailed down.”

“Richard Chamberlain just came out in his autobiography,” Barbara reminded her.

“Who’s next?! Jiminy Cricket?!” bellowed Connie.

“Well, he was awfully dapper,” said Barbara with a small smile.

Connie stamped around the room. “It’s not funny! Weren’t any of these guys real? Or were they all acting?”

“Uh, well, yes, they were all acting. They were actors.”

“You know what I’m saying! Good Lord, what about the starlets? How did they handle being surrounded by homos?”

Barbara thought about it. “Maybe that made their job easier, you know what I mean? Not so many pawing hands.”

Connie was really wound up. “Or maybe they were all gay too! Nothing but dykes everywhere. Maybe Hollywood was nothing but one big orgy!”

“Wow.” Barbara thought some more. “If that’s true, how come the pictures they made were so straight?”

“I don’t know, but thank God they were, or who knows where we’d all be now. I wouldn’t have married George. You wouldn’t have married Jerry.”

“That sounds kind of good to me,” giggled Barbara.

“Not to me it doesn’t!” roared Connie. She collapsed in a chair. “Oh, Tab, Tab, how could you do this?” She pointed a finger at Barbara. “I tell you, there ought to be a law against movie stars writing their life stories.”

“Really?”

“They get all honest about things like this. Things I don’t want to know. Why do they have to tell us? Why can’t they just leave me and Shirley Rozinski in peace?”

Barbara didn’t know how to answer, so she said, “Would you like some more coffee?”

“No, no. Y’know Barbara, truth is, Tab wasn’t really a man’s man. More like the boy next door.”

Barbara looked at the screen and sighed. “Well, if CNN is right, the boy next door was dreaming about other boys next door.”

“While us girls dreamed about him. Tab Hunter, gay as a maypole! I never thought I’d live to see the day.”

Barbara said, “We’re only in our early 60s, Connie. I guess we’re going to hear even more news.”

Connie groaned. “Lord help me! More teen idols, lying to us all the time! I tell you this. If I hear one word about Elvis, I’m throwing myself off a bridge!”