By Chelsea Handler
Whether or not I’m partial to gay men is a non-starter. The bottom line is that Ross Mathews is my favorite gay person. Is he defined by his homosexuality? Absolutely. But if I had to name the second thing I love most about Ross, it would be his unbridled enthusiasm.
I met him eight years ago at the Tonight Show, and after seeing his correspondence work on Jay Leno, I demanded that he do stand-up comedy. He was resistant to the idea but I forced his hand, body, and mind to at least give it a twirl. We spent a week in Arizona with him as my opening act, and even though he didn’t love stand-up, I watched him sashay up and down the dirty aisles of that comedy club like a toddler wearing a tiara.
He brought along his best friend Kimmy with whom we shared our days and pre-show sushi dinners. This was before I knew sushi wasn’t something you ordered on a daily basis while sequestered in a landlocked state. This was when Ross revealed to me that he had never given or received penetration; a straight-up virgin.
I had never met a virgin before and was extremely concerned. He reassured me that he had had a myriad of “almost” sex situations with women, which really knocked me for a loop-de-loop. “What person with female parts would think you’re straight?”
He regaled me with the first time he went downtown on a girl, or rather tried, and then almost vomited on her. I was horrified. What a victory lap for that poor girl.
I knew if he was ever going to have the guts to show a man his body, I would have to stay in his life and help him gain the confidence one requires to sleep around.
I am as proud to call Ross one of my dear friends many years later as I am proud to be able to publish his very first book. I can unabashedly admit that I have seen Ross turn from a young talented boy into the gay man’s Popeye.