I walked into a gay owned gift shop in Chicago a zillion yea..

I walked into a gay owned gift shop in Chicago a zillion years ago with my sister. Browsing cards, minding our own business, chatting away. I went to pay for whatever it was I was buying...I don't remember...and on the counter by the cash register was a little turnstile dotted with gay-oriented refrigerator magnets, lots of rainbow flags and oiled up bodybuilders and drag queens with pithy quotes. I looked closer and focused in on one of the magnets that was full frontal, thinking, ooh, cock. Yay. My stomach suddenly dropped. It was me. The shot that closed Tom Bianchi's "Out of the Studio" book. The very first nude shot of me ever published anywhere, back when I didn't want to show my face for fear of hurting my career. On a refrigerator magnet. How weird. I called my sister over and pointed it out. She sneered at me like, why are you making me look at some guy's dick? "Um...that's me." She looked confused. "That picture. It's me. From a nude photo shoot I did in Fire Island." I could tell she was embarrassed for me, and I had a moment of that myself, then immediately, I said, "Oh my god, that is so cool." And when the cashier came over to take care of my purchase, I literally felt a tug in two directions...embarrassment or ownership...and I moved to the joy of it. I pointed at the magnet and blurted out, "THAT'S ME!" as if I had just won an Academy Award. He looked at my sister who was still a bit taken aback, but when their eyes met, she started laughing, and then he started laughing, and gave out a "Whoop!" and pulled the magnet off the display, grabbed my hand, placed the magnet into my palm, closed my hand over it, and exclaimed "This belongs to YOU!" with a pronounced Southern accent and an open, generous, "Mame"-like tone. He raised his right arm and declared "On the house!" I thanked him profusely and my sister and I walked out, and I felt different. This was the first time my proclivity toward exhibitionism and my real life collided. And though I could feel the blush on my face, I also got kind of turned on. Aroused. Excited. But also proud. Less ashamed. Stronger. Less secretive. More...well...me. Years later when I moved to LA, my sublet essentially kidnaped my apartment and threw all my stuff in storage (that's a story for another day) and when I finally dealt with the aftermath in the storage unit, the magnet was nowhere to be seen. I figured it got left on the fridge and he was enjoying the dick pic of the guy he fucked over. Whatever. I thought it was gone, it was no longer available in stores, and it made me kind of sad that this curio, this memento, this odd bit of exposure was gone for good. Oh well, I thought. It makes for a fun story. Then just this year, I finally cleared out my NY storage unit for good, and what did I come across in a box of little knick-knacks and doo-dads? It's now on my refrigerator along with these magnetic Scrabble pieces and a calendar from my accountant. I'm so happy that I found it. It was the start of really owning who I am, what I want to say about nudity and art and porn, and how I want to say it. A photo of me and my cock on a magnet in a public place. A photo by the great Tom Bianchi in his prime. A photo that is now in the Tom of Finland archives as "All-American." Roll your eyes if you like, but to me, it's still very cool.