Coco held auditions, and the three men he finally selected—Ron, Teddy and Sid—were ones he had met over the years. No one he had ever slept with—or wanted to, for that matter—so it seemed like the start of a perfect career and life remake.
But the show—like his career—didn’t get much attention or make much money. They staged it once a month at a local community theater, the men kicking in the money to keep it going.
And then, at the height of COVID,The Golden Girlswas reborn. The show was streamed for some eleven million hours, making it as popular today as it was when it originally aired. It became a way for younger people to connect with their grandparents and a way for the LGBTQ+ community to connect with their aging parents and start a discussion about who they really were and are.
People started coming to the show.
As the only surviving member of the show, Coco began to work again.
It took only forty years.
Coco began to travel to 1980s sitcom fan festivals across the country and tour assisted living facilities, signing—for ten bucks a pop—the one and only cast photo he ever appeared in with Bea Arthur, Betty White, Rue McClanahan and Estelle Getty before being excised from it forever.
If you want to know one thing about gay men, they’re survivors.
The screenwriter ofThe Golden Girlsdid an interview withPeoplenot long ago stating that it was “smart” to axe Coco, but he wished they’d had a concluding arc for his character at some point.
“I wish they had dealt with Coco, or had him back for a special episode,” he said. “Maybe he fell in love... Maybe he opened a B&B in Key West.”
But I don’t need a screenwriter to tell you how it turned out for Coco.
Coco never fell in love, but he did become best friends with the men from their show,The Golden Gays—including Teddy from Dr. Doolan’s office who would become Dorothy—and they all moved into a fabulous mid-century modern house together just like the gals they portrayed.
How do I know?
I am Coco.
And I still hate being in a kitchen with a bunch of old queens.
Sid
“On your left!”
“Hot Jew alert!” Esther says as a very fit man in shorts and a tank top overtakes us on the track.
“Where did he come from?” I ask. “It’s like we’re standing still.”
“He’s fast,” Esther says. “And he’s new! Oh! And look at that tight tuchus!”
“You’re yelling!”
“You’re single!”
“You’re meshuga!”
“Proudly!” Esther says, lifting her tiny arms over her tinier body.
Every Monday, Wednesday and Friday during the winter, I walk exactly two miles on the outdoor track with Esther Himmelbaum at the Wasserman Senior Center. When it gets too hot come May, we move to the inside track. Every Tuesday and Thursday, Esther and I do a seated workout class.
Yes, we’re older than Methuselah.
Besides The Golden Gays, Esther is my BFF, my wing woman. It only makes sense I would befriend a woman who embodies the unbridled honesty and sarcasm of Sophia, the character I play in our show. I, on the other hand, embody Sophia’sfeebleness and inability to edit anything that leaves my mouth, especially when I’m nervous.
“Fresh meat!” Esther says in what she thinks is a whisper but sounds like a garbage truck at five in the morning. “You should talk to him when he laps us again. Or trip him. That might be the only way you can catch him.”
“Especially when he sees my face.”
“Sha!” Esther scolds me. “You are a handsome man. Regal. Do you want me to fix you up with him?”
