As a Halloween procrastinator, I’ve always been one of those people who run around at the last minute, desperately tearing through stray wands, swords and horns on half-empty shelves. This year I decided to get a head start, so I checked out some online costume retailers.

With so many costumes to choose from, I felt excited but overwhelmed. One Web site tries to offer costume advice, but apparently it wasn’t written by a gay guy: “When planning for your costume, keep in mind you don’t want to feel too constricted, unbearably hot, or self-conscious about body parts being exposed.” Doesn’t he know that gay men will suffer to look sexy? I’ll be meeting friends at West Hollywood’s Halloween street festival this year, so I want to show some skin. I’ve worked hard enough at the gym lately, and L.A. is much less skin-phobic than San Diego.

After about two hours of searching online, the only half-sexy costumes I saw were some tired Tarzan prints and 300 Spartan clones. And I was surprised at how popular prisoner costumes were. Since half of American men actually do prison time, why are prison scrubs still cool? If I were to dress as a (gay) escaped convict, my prison clothes would have to be ripped in all the right places – to show the (ahem) abuse I received behind bars, as well as the tears from the branches while I made my escape.

Sadly, prison garb and cheesy gladiator remakes are all we men get. Men have to settle for very un-sexy costumes like “Animal House Toga,” “Can of Spam,” “Purple Pimp,” “Geico Gecko,” “Sesame Street Elmo,” “Lieutenant Dangle,” and “Little Tree Car Air Freshener.” These must be the fate of disgruntled designers who never made “Project Runway” callbacks and now spend their lonely nights eating cheese puffs while flipping through bad TV shows and commercials for design inspiration.

Women, on the other hand, are encouraged to look hot for Halloween. They have lots of fun, sexy costumes to choose from, like “Vixen Pirate Wench,” “Alice Wonder Place,” “Ho Down Hottie,” “Cabin Pressure Cutie,” “Prep School Delinquent,” and “Dr. Anita Hardwon.” No wonder so many gay guys want to dress up as women on Halloween.

With so many pirate vixens and sexy nurses prancing around, straight guys are encouraged to wear sexually suggestive costumes, but without the pressure of having to show skin. There’s “Snake Charmer,” with a fake snake in the crotch; “Longuini and Meatballs,” with a sausage-and-meatballs plate attached to the pants; “Sinful Father,” a priest with a hard-on under his robe, (not the best outfit for gay men, in case any of our Catholic friends were abused); and “Pie Eating Champ,” which consists of just a T-shirt bearing the words “Pie Eating Champion,” a blue ribbon, and a can of whipped cream. I’m sure some lesbians might dig that one, too.

Since I only eat pumpkin pie, I gave up on costume searching and decided to call my friends for ideas. One of them suggested Sarah Palin. “Very topical,” I said, “but I don’t want to get mauled.” “Maybe Michael Phelps?” he offered. “You can put lots of medals around your neck, and just wear a Speedo to show off your bod.” That sounded easy, but I’m a foot shorter than Michael Phelps, and don’t want to walk around shirtless in case it’s chilly outside. “Then be a superhero,” my friend said. “The tights will show you off and still keep you warm.” But I rejected that idea, since there are always too many superheroes vying for attention on Halloween. I’m all for other guys dressing as superheroes, as long as they fill out their tights nicely.

With celebrities, superheroes and costume shop outfits ruled out, I was stumped. Fake blood and guts costumes could show some skin, but probably wouldn’t get me laid. That left only the man-in-a-uniform classics: cop, fireman, sailor, cowboy – even UPS guy. These looks will never go out of style, because they’ll always have a “masculine” sex appeal.

So far I’ve decided to be a gay cowboy: tight jeans, chaps, an unbuttoned Henley or Western shirt and suede hat will all look sexy and still keep me warm. And if the night is warm enough, maybe I’ll get up the nerve to skip the jeans and just wear the chaps and a jock. After all, it is West Hollywood, so I wouldn’t be the only half-naked guy walking around. When I told my friend this he laughed. “Just don’t bend over to pick up loose change on the street,” he advised. Loose change? That won’t buy much anymore … it would have to be at least a dollar.