Secrets Of A Gay Marine Porn Star (37 page)

When he stepped outside of his office and saw my parents, General McCorkle did something I had never seen him do. He turned red-faced. He knew my mom was a good Christian woman who didn’t tolerate that type of language. He quickly introduced himself to my family and told them how much he had enjoyed having me as his aide and what a good American I was. My dad and brother were impressed at least.

Major General Fred McCorkle flew 1,500 combat missions in Vietnam, commanded 17,000 Marines on the West Coast, and would go on to pick up a third star.

But to my mother, he would always be “that man with the potty mouth.”

As promised, I got to take command of an air defense missile battery in May 1997. It was one of those crowning days, like when Dr. Bob Jones III called me a model Christian school student or my senior drill instructor told me I was officer material. General McCorkle and the assistant Aircraft Wing commander, Brigadier General Bolden, attended the ceremony with their wives. Because the generals were there, many of the colonels whom I had gotten to know throughout the previous year also attended. It was unheard-of for generals and colonels to attend a ceremony for a captain; thanks to General McCorkle, my ceremony was exceptional.

Dozens of my gay military friends attended this ceremony, some in uniform, some in civilian clothes. My parents and brother were also there. Tim Carter and his partner attended. Tim had been fighter pilot in the Marines in Vietnam and had attended the Naval academy at the same time as General Bolden. General Bolden was nationally famous as a space shuttle commander who also happened to be African American. Mrs. Bolden asked Tim why someone who had gotten out of the Corps over twenty years earlier would drive all the way from LA down to Camp Pendleton for something like this. Tim responded that he was my friend and wanted to see me take command of the battery.

Mrs. Bolden looked at the crowd and responded, “Rich Merritt has the most…
eclectic
group of friends I think I’ve ever seen!”

As soon as I took command, I began thinking,
What next?
I still had no idea. Law school was still out there. Maybe I could reapply for the funded law program. With a general’s personal recommendation, who knew what could happen?

The porn was also still out there. By now it seemed like a distant memory. I was a “has been” who never really “was.” No one recognized me anymore, maybe no one would care. Maybe I could stay in the Corps until retirement after all.

But one part of my past or another was always there. Wherever I went in the Marines, I always ran into someone affiliated with Bob Jones. Whether it was my battalion commander’s daughter in Okinawa, my classmates at TBS, my battery clerk when I was the executive officer, or my editor at the
Navy Times
, this tiny little obscure school was destined to stay in my life.

So it came as no surprise when, as I got to know the men in my command, one of them said to me, “Sir, didn’t you used to go to Bob Jones University?”

I stared at the sergeant. “Yes, Sergeant…Martin.” It was coming back to me now.

“You used to work at the Hyatt!” he said.

“And you worked at the Hilton,” I said to my new sergeant. As it turned out, he had been expelled also, so we had a shared antipathy for the place. Still, I couldn’t believe in coincidences any longer. For some reason, God was not letting me get that fucking school out of my life.

I loved Brandon, but more and more my mind was straying. I thought a lot about other guys, about having sex with other guys. The experience with Jessie nine months earlier had only whet my appetite for more encounters. This was painful for me. I had always thought that when I found someone I truly loved, I wouldn’t think about sex with other people. Unfortunately, the opposite seemed to be the case. The longer I went having sex only with Brandon, the more I thought about it with other guys. What the fuck was wrong with me? Brandon meant everything to me. I loved him and the life I had with him and our dog. I felt extremely guilty that these thoughts didn’t go away.

Soon after taking command of the air defense battery, all the officers in the battalion rented an RV and rode out to Las Vegas for a bachelor party. The whole ride, we watched porn, all of it straight, of course. At least there were guys in a few of the shots. We also drank the whole five-hour trip. A lot.

I went to a strip club and paid forty dollars for a private lap dance in the back. As drunk as I was, I had fun pretending to get into it. After a few hours, though, I was tired of the game.

“I’m going to gamble,” I told the others and took off to find my own adventure.

I got a room at the Luxor and called a male escort to come up to my room. I paid a fortune, but I was drunk and horny and didn’t care. He was short and blond, just what I’d ordered, but he was also straight. All he did for all the money I was spending was to let me jerk him off while I jerked myself off.

But it was sex. While I might have convinced myself that what had happened with Jessie was the result of a misunderstanding of the status of my relationship, there was no mistake now. I had cheated on Brandon.

It was some consolation, at least, that I had been very drunk. If I had been sober, I thought, this wouldn’t have happened.

From May of 1997 to June 1998, every day at lunch I ran six miles. I started at my office overlooking the Pacific Ocean and ran down a the two-lane paved road to a scraggly canyon along a riverbed that was dry most of the year and then up a very steep dirt hill, returning to my office. I had run this route since first checking in at Camp Pendleton five years earlier. I had lost twenty-five pounds along this route when I had first arrived, a noticeable difference for someone five-foot-seven, and since I ran shirtless at high noon, I had a deep tan. The cool ocean air balanced the summer sun and my daily run became like a religious experience.

These forty-five minutes were my alone time. I didn’t have to worry about what I said or about whether I was acting “butch” enough. No one could offend me with a fag joke or tell me about how women and gays were going to ruin the military. I could focus and meditate. Usually I focused on the natural beauty of southern California and I always remained on the lookout for the occasional rattlesnake or rare mountain lion.

One day I focused on what I was going to do with my career. I was obligated to serve for another year, but I knew that Washington, DC, would be calling sometime wanting to know what my plans were and presenting me with all available options.
What were my plans?
While working for General McCorkle I hadn’t had much time to think about anything beyond the next meeting or flight or dinner or reception. I had just taken over as CO of the battery and this had pretty much been the extent of my planning.

Then it occurred to me. I could get out. I didn’t have to stay in. What a radical idea! With one word from me and a letter of resignation, my time in the Corps could be over. Why not? The economy had turned around and officers were getting out in record numbers to take high-paying jobs in the civilian world. I could go to law school and practice law someday as a civilian. The more I thought about it, the more it made sense. Besides, it didn’t seem like we were going to be going to war anytime soon, so I’d probably be pretty bored if I stayed in.

“Sir, your monitor called from Washington, DC,” said the corporal when I returned to my office, sweaty and sticky after the run. The timing was one of those eerie coincidences.

“Hey Rich, I’ve got great news for ya!” said my friendly career planner at Headquarters Marine Corps. General McCorkle had taught me that whenever someone in Washington, DC, said they had great news for you to either run and hide or pick up a gun.

This time was an exception however. He really did have good news.

“I know you’ve wanted to go to law school,” said the captain. “How about this. Next summer you can take over the Marine ROTC units at George Washington University and the other schools in DC, and you can go to law school at night for free, since you’d be considered faculty.”

I couldn’t believe it. A dream job and with fringe benefits like a free law degree. Talk about carrot and stick! I couldn’t say no to this assignment.

I didn’t. I said, “I’ll think about.”

Which I did for several months. This was so typical of the Marine Corps. The Corps’ thought police could read minds. They knew when you were thinking about getting out, then they made you a deal you couldn’t refuse. Once they had you, however, you were treated like a bastard stepchild. I honestly couldn’t make up my mind what to do.

It sounds crazy now. I managed to block the porn from my memory again. Never mind that a three-year commitment would be three more years of worrying that they might find out. All I thought about was that my career would continue and that I would keep climbing the Corps’ ladder of leadership.
Who knows? Maybe I could make general someday?

Of course, there was Brandon. Maybe he would move to DC with me. He had said that was one city where he could live. I discussed it with him a little. He couldn’t understand why I would want to stay in. But then again, he wasn’t a Marine.

One day the orders appeared on the message board. My orders were to report to Washington, DC, the following year. I had ten days to accept these orders or submit my resignation. After all the deliberation, I simply said no. Don’t ask me why. Just as I can’t give a solid explanation of why I joined the Marines, neither can I explain why I turned in my resignation. It was a feeling, and I acted on it.

It happened to be my thirtieth birthday. I told my battalion commander that, when my obligated service time was up the following year, I would be getting out of the Marines.

I would be a “lame duck” officer for almost a year. But the decision to get out had been mine. I would also receive an honorable discharge as long as nothing happened during this final year.

“Rich, thanks for letting me stay at your place,” said Gary on the phone after the July Fourth weekend.

Gary had just returned from a six-month tour as the air officer with an infantry officer in Okinawa. He had always wanted to do that—to go with the grunts to prove that an “Airwinger” could hang with the toughest of the tough. That’s exactly what he had done.

But before embarking, he had broken up with Angie. Things hadn’t gone so well since she had moved to California from Texas and, ever the practical one, he had used the six-month deployment as an impetus to end the relationship. I wasn’t as angry this time as I’d been over his many breakups with Tami. Now that I was actually in my first real relationship, I could understand the complexities and nuances that come with the territory. I had become much more sympathetic to people in this area.

For the holiday weekend, I had stayed at Brandon’s while Gary had crashed at my apartment near Laguna Beach. He had attended a wedding there for a fellow pilot.

“No problem, just hope you didn’t fart all over the place like you always do. How was the wedding?”

“It was great…and…well…”

This wasn’t like Gary to stammer over his words. He was always so direct. “Well, what? You can’t talk for once in your miserable life?”

“I met someone,” Gary replied.

Oh fuck
, I thought.
Am I ready for this again?
Being in my own relationship was hard enough, but playing advice therapist to Gary wore me out completely. But he was my friend.

“That’s great!” I exclaimed. “Tell me about her.”

“Well, have you ever seen that television show,
Boston Common
?”

I said that I had seen it a couple of times, wondering where this was headed. Maybe she looked like someone in the show.

“Well, her name is Hedy Burress and she plays Wyleen on that show. Everyone kept coming up to her talking about it, but I hadn’t seen it yet.”

“You dog! What the hell’s going on? Bossy’s going to movie premieres with Whoopi Goldberg, you’re meeting television stars…all my friends are going A-list. Not bad for a limey hick from Spartanburg!”

Gary and Hedy started dating, despite their conflicting deployment and filming schedules. I met her a few months later at a dinner I arranged in Laguna with Gary and her, Bossy and his new boyfriend who was also Whoopi Goldberg’s assistant, and Brandon. Hedy was as beautiful as Gary had described and had the vivacious personality he enjoyed.

Months later, when Gary was in Japan, Hedy arranged to have Brandon and me sit in a special VIP section for a taping of her new television show,
The Closer
, at the Warner Brothers studio in Burbank. In that show, she played the daughter of a character played by Tom Selleck.

After the taping, she invited us to dinner with the cast. Tom Selleck and his wife were there. Selleck was as handsome as ever, and he and I chatted a bit about his time in the army. Ed Asner, who was costarring in the show, was also at dinner and maybe I was being irrationally paranoid, but I could have sworn he was cruising Brandon. Jason Bateman, who I had always had a crush on, showed up later and I was dismayed to learn that he was straight. Someone said Bateman was friends with Hedy’s costar, David Krumholtz. Everyone on the cast was in a good mood, even though they probably knew their series was already in trouble. Krumholtz was exceptionally nice and he paid for everyone’s bill.

The best part of the dinner, though, was the conversation Brandon and I had with Gregory Jbara. Gregory was there as a friend of Selleck’s. He had played the role of Walter, the under-intelligent brother of the character played by Kevin Kline in the movie
In and Out
. Selleck had also starred in that movie.

I told Jbara that we were there as friends of Hedy’s and that I had been friends with Hedy’s boyfriend, a fellow Marine officer. Jbara expressed genuine approval that Gary and I had been able to maintain our friendship despite the military’s perceived homophobia and the “Don’t ask, don’t tell” law.

“In my opinion, the best parts of
In and Out
ended up on the cutting room floor,” Jbara said.