It must be hard to have a career like Barry Manilow’s, built on the premise that you’re a 65-year-old woman’s ideal fantasy lover and designing every album, song, and photoshoot around that rather dismal premise.
Because most of us–let’s face it–knew Manilow was gay from the get-go, even if we weren’t around at the get-go because we hadn’t been born yet.
At last, Manilow has copped to what the rest of us knew all along: He’s gay as blazes.
“I thought I would be disappointing them if they knew I was gay,” he told People magazine. “So I never did anything.”
Now that’s sad. That’s really the saddest part of this whole story. Not the secret marriage or the repression or the inevitable self-hatred and shame. Manilow thought that his gayness would actually be a DETERRENT to the 65-year old women to whom he is catnip. That’s what he thought. And that’s pitiful.
At least Barry now has a few good years left in which to live his best life. God Bless.