I'd like to thank Djb for handing off his copy of Seventeen to me so that I wouldn't have to buy it my own self. Seventeen grosses me out, not least because, in the dark pre-Sassy days of my early adolescence, I relied on Seventeen for yet more reminders that I didn't measure up and never would, that I needed it to answer questions I hadn't thought to ask. In the many moons since I languished through my fifteenth year, the magazine has updated its image somewhat, but it's mostly surface -- the cosmetic addition of Self-Consciously Hip Lingo Collected By Thirty-Eight-Year-Olds And Deployed In A Diabetes-Inducing Girl-Talk Manner hasn't changed the basic content of the magazine, which breaks down like this: Boys = Neat, But Scary! My Body = Icky, And Even More Scary! Clothes = I Need More Of Them, And The More Butterfly Appliqués, The Better! Yuck. Anyway, the March 2001 issue -- the one with Shiri Appleby's terrifying cyborgian rictus "gracing" the cover -- contains a column in the "guys" section (note The Lowercase Letter Of Chummy Familiarity) called "dating dilemmas" (TLLOCF again), in which Seventeen's panel of "experts" take on the date circumstances "ranked highest on the blush-o-meter." Oh, god. The panel: a dating-service founder named Andrea McGinty, John Gray of Men Are From Mars… fame, and Kerr Smith. A snapshot of Kerr appears above the panelists' bios, in which he looks like he's 1) made of injection-molded plastic, and 2) trying desperately not to yell "Not!" at the photographer. Also, his hair looks like a Q-Tip. A used one. In his bio, we learn that Kerr "has fun dating: 'Every relationship you get into, you learn something about dating -- and yourself.'" Thanks for that, Kerr -- or, more accurately, Kerr's publicist, because if Kerr Smith actually said those words, then NASA faked the moon landing and that parking-lot ankle-slasher urban legend is true. On to the dilemmas. Dilemma 1: Your dream boy asks you out for a group hang, but it's bowling, and you suck at bowling. How this constitutes an actual dilemma of any kind, I have no idea, since everyone sucks at bowling, but here's Kerr's counsel: "Ask for pointers -- that will serve as an icebreaker. Any time a guy's in a position where he feels more knowledgeable than someone else, it's a chance to show his stuff." Oh my holy god -- did he just tell girls to ACT STUPID so that boys will LIKE THEM BETTER? I think he did. Or his publicist did, because…"icebreaker"? Shut up, Kerr's publicist. Kerr's lips move while his publicist goes on to say that "[e]veryone stinks at bowling" and it's nothing to stress over, but still. Dilemma 2: You go to the movies with your new semi-boyfriend, and his ex turns up and comes over to say hi. Kerr and his publicist advise us to "be nice, be cool" and to "trust in the guy that their relationship is over." Okay, that's decent advice. It's also totally obvious, but at least it's not totally Scarlett O'Hara like the first one. Dilemma 3: On a first date at a diner, your date suggests that you split the bill. Oh, Jeebus, help me (tm Homer). People still consider this an issue? You order something, you pay for it. Der. Anyway, Kerr's publicist yanks on the strings and Kerr tells us to split it, but that we could also offer to cover the whole bill to see whether or not the guy "is cheap." Oh, hello, Scarlett. Can I get you anything? A curtain, perhaps? I mean…ew. Also, shut up, Kerr's publicist.
Thank god this is almost -- oh crap, three more dilemmas. Dilemma 4: While chilling with your "crush" and watching movies, he starts making his move and you start getting weirded out. Kerr begins well by saying that we should just tell the guy to back off for the moment. Then he sets the time machine for 1954: "Let me tell all you women out there what guys want: a challenge. They want mystery. If you sleep with them on the first date, it's over. Take it one step at a time and it'll stay interesting." Yeah -- for whom, Ozzie and Harriet? If we wanted to hear from the authors of The Rules, we'd read their crappy books. The last thing a teenage girl needs to hear is that she's undesirable -- and deservedly so -- if she puts out. So let's all say it together: shut up, Kerr. And your publicist. Dilemma 5: After a great date, you find yourself awkwarding it up on the doorstep. Kerr tells us to kiss the boy because he loves "women who make the first move." Kerr? You live in a fifties spank porno. Also, shut up. Also, welcome to the twenty-first century. You can't have it both ways, Madonna-Whore Not-Complex-Enough. In addition, shut up. No such luck, as he adds, "The strongest moments in films are when nothing is said, and that's just as true in life." Amen, brother. SO SHUT UP. And put down that Uta Hagen book before someone gets hurt. And so we arrive at Dilemma 6: The day after the big date, he's in the hall with his posse and you don't know whether or not to go over and say hi. Kerr describes "the perfect scenario" as girl goes over, girl says hi and I had a great time, "no kiss or anything." I get the feeling that Kerr's real perfect scenario involves a French maid's outfit and a blowjob, but let's just move on to the Out article, shall we? The Out article is…pretty damn boring, actually. The accompanying pictures make it worth the price of admission (one shot in particular, of a well-muscled-but-not-too-well-muscled Kerr in a tank top, is succulent in the extreme), but there's not much in the article that fans and forum regulars haven't heard before. We do learn that his role as Jack on DC has helped to develop gaydar, and that at first he "was nervous about getting typecast [as a gay man]. But it didn't happen." Then Roswell's Brendan Fehr compliments him, saying that Kerr is "very easy to work with." Then we have a moment with co-executive Creek producer Greg "Milton" Berlanti, who says that Kerr "reminds [him] of guys who were in [his] fraternity in college" -- and, based on his fratty bubelatty remarks in Seventeen, that doesn't surprise me -- "but in a second he becomes this introspective gay teen." Then we find out that Kerr debuted as an actor in a Burlington Coat Factory ad, which makes me giggle uncontrollably for some reason.
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And now, here's Kevin Williamson on why Jack exited the closet: "'All the characters are all various parts of me….I felt that part of me -- what I consider the best part of me -- my sexuality, which taught me to be honest and how to be a man, was missing from these characters. So I created Jack. I wanted to do it from the first season, but that wasn't the original story I set out to tell." Should I point out that said "original story" sucked ass, and continues to do so to this day? Oh, will you look at that. Then Kerr talks some more about where the show has tried to go with the Jack character, claiming that "[y]ou don't want to make it trite or play into stereotypes, and we haven't done that." Well, no, they haven't, not exactly, but they have sidelined Jack in a supporting role since his outing and refused to give him a realistic storyline; while that's neither trite nor stereotypical, I'd hardly call Dawson's Creek's portrayal of gay teens admirable. Kerr goes on to say that neither he nor Williamson wanted Jack "put on the sidelines like Matt on Melrose Place. 'There was no way I want to do that story,' says Smith. 'It's boring and trite.'" Yes, it's both of those things. Sadly, it's exactly what Jack's turned into in the fourth season. I understand that Kerr doesn't control the scripts, and that he has to say positive things about the direction of his character in order to keep his job, but…please. Anyone who watches the show can smell that that's bullshit. Then we learn that Kerr has reaped compliments from such E-list celebs as Whoopi Goldberg for his work on the show, as well as from gay teens, who frequently come up to him and share their stories of coming out to their parents after watching him come out on the show. It's my impulse to doubt that, but if it did happen -- that's cool, I guess. Kerr says that he doesn't "feel like [he] should be a role model," and again, the Seventeen thing, and…word. But he's become one, he supposes, "[a]nd as long as you can help people I think that it's really cool." At this point, I think to myself, "Okay, he's not the most articulate guy. He sounds really rehearsed, but at least he's not all like 'oh, I'm not gay' and stuff, so I guess he's all right." In the very sentence, though, I get brought up short by this revelation: "He also confides that playing gay has only helped his sex life. 'My theory is, women want what they think they can't have,' says the currently single guy with a chuckle." Oh, please. My theory is that you get laid because you're famous, Butch Cassidy, so spare us your notions of female psychology and shut up.
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After a quick recap of the fooferaw over the non-kiss kiss from last season (Kerr describes himself as "really upset with the way they handled it," while a pointedly out-of-work Williamson says he would have done it differently but had no problem with it), there's a peek into the future. Kerr has a role in Hit and Runway (again as a gay man here too) and stars in The Forsaken with Brendan Fehr, both due out in theaters quite soon. Kerr's also starring in a film about "three guys who are hunted down nearly to death by a mysterious vehicle" (oh, goody), and has also formed a production company with a friend in order to produce and star in a biopic of Montgomery Clift: "But that would be my fourth gay role!" Whatever. Then we get to hear about Kerr's nascent recording career, and after a comment from the Beek on Kerr's Jagger-esque qualities ("He went right to the front of the stage, put his arms up in the air, and acted like a rock star"), we're done. Final verdict: whatever. And shave the chin pubes. And don't let your publicist answer your phone. And shut up. You too, Van Der Beek.
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