Dude, I Want Your Dell

Ben Curtis, who won't remember me in the slightest but whom I've met several times and worked with once at MTV, is hot. Recovered from all the hype surrounding his drug bust in the city, and finally shedding the image of Steven, the infamous You're-Getting-A-Dell Dude -- which by the way was the harder of the two reps to live down -- Ben's making a new name for himself, albeit slowly and under the cover of night.

What I find most fascinating, and perhaps fuels my burning attraction for Benji, is his relationship to the gay culture. Sure, when he first invaded the air waves we fell under the trance of his innocently adorable and sexually subdued stoner personae. Hell, I bit - hook line and sinker - as every computer I've owned since then has been, well, a Dell. After leaving Steve-O behind, he's ducked in and out of the shadows, finally popping up in the Off-Broadway sleeper, Joy, as a closeted gay man who flip flops from girls to boys (Think John Kerry in a gay bar...No wait, don't think that. Stop thinking that. Seriously, now you're just being gross).

I admit, haven't seen it. Even heard he's only got 12 or so lines. But as part of the cast, a collection of seven spicy male and female actors with whom the issues of sex, love and commitment are played out respectfully, Ben gets to step back into the limelight and answer to the press who will now inevitably hound him on his own sexuality. What I find most captivating here is his seemingly heartfelt response. "Being the son of a gay preacher man in Tennessee..." Yep, turns out Daddy Dude came out of the Curtis Closet while Ben was still in high school. And rumor has it so did his sister, who then returned to men (as we all do in the end).

But did the great gay gene skip over my new heart's flame?

He's not saying. And that's still fine by me. Graduating high school is hard enough. Try explaining to your prom date why she has to come inside to meet Friar Fagalla and the Luke, John or Michael to his...umm...Peter. I'll remind you, this was the south and in Ben's own words, in the south if you're not homophobic you're gay. For him to have come out of that experience alive, with all his teeth intact and still be willing to kiss another man on stage, I say no matter how often, or how well, he delivers dialogue, a standing ovation of the gayest kind is in order. That's three quick claps, a wipe of the left tear duct, overly dramatic grasp of the shirt in the vicinity of where the heart lies, and of course, a craned neck to check out his boyishly beautiful bottom when he bends to bow.

For the record, he never checked me out when we were together, and he does speak fondly of his ex-girlfriend with whom he was able to escape the public's sudden obsession with his poor man's Sean-Williams-Scottish-self. Though now self-proclaimed single, he says working through his confusion on stage and in his personal, professional and sexual life, he's walked into and away from this experience with even more questions, but the strength now to ask them and the courage to finally hear the answers.

My words, more or less, not his.

But regardless if he'll ever return my love, or calls, or even glances off-stage, I got a new found respect for the guy. I also got a new Dell Inspiron notebook. Look, he may never want to utter those infamously infectious words again...but, like the loyal love-bug I am, whatever his next command may be, I'll obey without question.

Here's to hoping it begins with "Will You Marry Me...Dude?"