America: It's not easy to find friends of Mark Foley on Capitol Hill these days but before the former Republican congressman was caught last week sending lewd e-mails to teenage boys, his admirers in Washington were legion.
Funny, generous, gregarious and a wicked mimic, Foley was popular among fellow Republicans - and not only because he raised tens of thousands of dollars for their campaigns.
Everyone knew he was gay and that he had a long-term relationship with a Palm Beach dermatologist - everyone, that is, except the voters in Florida who elected him, and his fervently Catholic parents.
When a Florida newspaper suggested in 2003 that he was gay, Foley called a press conference to condemn such "revolting and unforgivable" speculation.
Foley's e-mails and instant messages to teenage congressional pages were exploitative, inappropriate and irresponsible, even if he insists he never had any sexual contact with any of the boys he chatted with.
Public outrage would probably be just as intense if his victims were teenage girls but Foley's homosexuality adds a twist to the scandal and highlights the uncomfortable position occupied by gays in the Republican Party.
Two other key players in the scandal - Foley's former aide Kirk Fordham and Jeff Trandahl, who administered the congressional page programme - are openly gay.
Fordham claims he told Republican leaders three years ago that he was concerned about Foley's pursuit of teenage pages, and Trandahl says he warned his bosses about the e-mails last year.
Some conservative Republicans are whispering about a "velvet mafia" within Congress that once protected Foley but has now turned on him, and right-wingers are threatening to circulate a list of senior gay staffers.
Most of America has become steadily more liberal on gay issues in recent years, with almost two-thirds supporting either civil partnerships or full marriage rights for gay couples. The rise of the Christian right has left the Republican Party isolated from the national trend, however, and most gay Republicans either stay in the closet or remain at least discreet about their orientation.
Arizona's Jim Kolbe, the only openly gay Republican congressman, came out in 1996 just before a gay magazine was about to out him because of his support for anti-gay legislation. Foley also supported anti-gay Bills, although he backed away from some recent proposals, such as a constitutional amendment banning gay marriage.
Outside Congress, the past decade has seen the rise of the so-called Homocons, openly gay conservatives who campaign for gay marriage rights but otherwise support politically conservative positions.
The Homocons' sometimes risible idealisation of masculine gay men and their disdain for many of those who make up the real gay community has led to accusations of self-hatred.
Foley belongs to an older tradition that is much more clearly self-hating, however, and the internet exchanges with his teenage targets reflect a gay sensibility that has all but disappeared elsewhere.
In one of his creepier messages, Foley promises to help one boy become a "stylish elite type" in return for the occasional grope.
"We will make you successful as long as you don't mind me grabbing your [ deleted] once in a while," the published transcript reads.
America's political closet is not solely inhabited by Republicans, as Jim McGreevey, the former Democratic governor of New Jersey, proved when he leapt out of it three years ago, declaring: "I am a gay American."
McGreevey, who is now happily settled in a gay relationship, has just published a book called The Confession, chronicling a lifetime of lies and concealment.
In it he quotes advice from Armistead Maupin that should be heeded by all aspiring gay politicians everywhere: "My only regret about being gay is that I repressed it for so long.
"I surrendered my youth to the people I feared when I could have been out there loving someone. Don't make the same mistake yourself. Life's too damn short."
