From chatting with my pals and surfing through the cyber world of soaps every once in a while, I’ve noticed how clue-happy fans seem to be. Did Mr. X flicker an eyelash at Ms. Y? Were smiles exchanged? Did he twinkle? Was she breathing? Is that sufficient evidence to pine for a pairing?

So what if they haven’t even shared a scene? So what if their agents hate each other and they used the same personal trainer briefly in 95 and that caused a real rift over schedules and they’ve resented each other ever since? So what if he’s 150 years older than she is? Wannabe shippers out there are more than willing to assume chemistry beyond Marie Curie’s dreams, come up with some catchy nickname that vaguely blends letters of their new favorites’ names, and beg, plead and weep for a pairing. We must have Albert Einstein and Marilyn Monroe, AKA Monstein! No, Marbert. Moron? Anyone who doesn’t see the potential in Moron is on drugs! Why, her publicist once mentioned she was attracted to him in an interview done in 1953, so surely this is a done deal. We have banners! Postcards! We’re sending white halter dresses with the theory of relativity written all over them until they give us what we want! Oh, the drama of high hopes, dashed dreams, and more whining than at a pre-school convention where they don’t give out cookies.

Given that climate, where a wink’s as good as a nod, a boink and happily-ever-after to a blind soap fan, what are we to make of General Hospital’s macho mobsters Sonny and Jason? While it’s true that daytime TV seems pretty wimpy when it comes to pairing two men, it’s also true that there is a pretty good case to suggest this is one example of homoerotica that’s gone from latent to patent and is now hovering around positively blatant.

Since I am no expert on man-on-man love, I asked my dear friend, the Prince of Wands, who knows all about this sort of thing, to help out. “What do you think?” I asked. “Are Sonny and Jason a gay couple?” “Highness,” he said, shaking his head that I was naïve enough to even ask the question.  “You do the math. You’ve got two hunky men who can’t keep their hands off each other living in adjoining penthouses with all kinds of even hunkier bodyguards hanging around. Have you seen the burly, scary bodyguards on ‘The Sopranos’? And then the adorable things who pretend to be hired muscle on GH? They’re hired, all right, but it’s a whole different class of muscle. Let’s just say I’ll bet they’re all members of the Liza Minnelli fan club and their TVs are tuned to ‘Queer As Folk’ on a regular basis.”

While I dearly love the Prince, I also think his gaydar is tuned a little fine. So I prefer to make my own conclusions, and I’m going to give Sonny and Jason (or “Sason” to their shippers) the regular tests for a romantic couple. Let’s look at the clues, shall we?

How about shared screen time? PUH-leez. Sonny and Jason are on camera tangled together more often than J-Lo & Ben. Or, to borrow from that “Sason of Love” song that furnished my title... 525,600 minutes. That’s just about how much time Sonny and Jason have burned together.

So what have they done with that shared screen time? Is it the stuff of romance? We certainly have longing looks. Looks, stares, glares, stolen glances, and the whole gamut of smoky, sensual eye contact.

How about words? Whispered conversations with an exchange of words like “trust” and “betrayal” and “loyalty”? Oh, definitely. Heated exchanges including “I want you” and “Let’s do this right now, right here on the floor”? Yes, I heard that, too. Gives you a little shiver of anticipation at all that manly force, doesn’t it? Bust up some glassware, Sonny! I see some naked skin and a whole lot of sweat and some nifty bar-top action coming on!

Physical clues? Yep. So many times we’ve all seen Jason stand close and incline his head in, hanging on every mumble, desperate to please his master. Not to mention the half-naked montage. As the Music of Love & Longing swelled, we got images of Jason, bare to the waist, magnificent in his manly pulchritude, staring out into the distance as he is wont to do, so very unhappy to be separated from his beloved, superimposed over the dark, brooding, tortured visage of Sonny, awash in misery and self-loathing to have sent away the only man he could ever truly love...

Who in the world is blind enough to miss the message in that?

Pas moi, children. Pas moi. I may not be willing to jump into the Lake of Self-Delusion over the fabled Moron pairing, but I know a love story when it smacks me in the face. So far, we’ve seen Sonny offer a hand to brain-damaged Jason, earning Jason’s eternal loyalty. We’ve seen Jason take bullets for Sonny, proving his love. We’ve seen them deal with betrayal when The Other Woman, AKA Carly, tried to split them up, but of course no mere woman could break the bond between the real lovers. We’ve seen jealousy, as Sonny was furious that Jason had defied him to hang out with Courtney. Most telling, we’ve seen that they simply can’t live without each other. Did Sonny wig out and lose his grip on reality when he lost Carly? Nope. But he sure did for Jason. (“Take me, right here on the floor, Jason!”  Oh, sorry. I was back with the shattering glass and the pouring sweat and the naked manly bodies again. Where is my Page? I need some fanning with the palm frond, stat! And could you bring a long, tall Sex-on-the-Beach for the Prince of Wands while you’re at it? Merci!)

They even underlined that can’t-live-without-‘em thing in the special New Year’s Eve episode, where Jason’s alter ego went down in a hail of bullets. Sonny’s 1920’s version acted just like the modern one — denied his true love, he went bonkers.

I’m afraid it’s official, kids. No matter what test you apply, Sonny and Jason are so a couple. Hip, hip, ho-yay!

I asked readers to send me love songs for Jason and Sonny, and I certainly got plenty of choices. Jesse P. lobbied hard for “It’s Raining Men,” Ginger asked for a country-western song called “If I Said You Had a Beautiful Body, Would You Hold It Against Me,” Jen thought the montage song, Portishead’s “Roads,” was on the money, Erin chimed in with the old Fannie Brice classic, “My Man,” which has a lot to recommend it, and several people suggested Eminem’s “Superman.”  While I agree that “You know you want me, [Jason], you know I want you, too,” is fine and dandy, the part about Jason jumping on Shady’s, um, equipment, and planting his, er, derriere on the runway is a bit crude, even for Jason and Shady. I mean, Sonny.

The Prince of Wands wanted something from Sondheim — he was all for a little ditty called “Unworthy of Your Love” from “Assassins” that talks about crawling belly-deep through hell for the object of one’s obsession. Personally, my choice from all the offered selections was that old Harry Nilsson ode to co-dependency, “Without You.”

Can't live, if living is without you

Can't give, can't give anymore

Well, I can't forget this evening

Or your face as you were leaving

But I guess that's just the way the barware goes

You always stare but in your eyes

Your sorrow shows

Yes, it shows...

But then my dear pen pal Amelia sent me not just a suggestion but a whole song, lyrics and all, and I couldn’t resist.

Sonny, yesterday my life was filled with rain

Sonny, you frowned at me and you really brought the pain

Now the bright days are gone

And the dark days are here

Sonny, I never knew one who so loved to sneer

Never knew one so blue

I love you

Sonny, I'd like to thank you for that funeral bouquet

Sonny, I wanna thank you for the crime that you brought my way

My life was torn like wind-blown sand

Then a rock was formed when you held my hand

Sonny, never knew one so cruel

I love you, you know I really do

Sonny, I'd like to thank you

Before you came, I walked on my own

I had no place, no mob to call my home

Into my life you stole

And to my heart, you spoke with vitriol

Sonny, Sonny, I love you, yes, I really do

Sonny, Sonny, I love you

Into my life, you brought your pain

And from my heart, you took the happiness away

Love you, Sonny, love you, Sonny

Sonny, I never knew that I could feel this bad

You've shown me the masochist's way

Sonny, Sonny, Sonny, Sonny, Sonny, Sonny

You've given me a darker day since you came my way

I'd like to thank you for the glower upon your face

Oh, Sonny I'd like to thank you, thank you

And I’d like to thank all of you for your scintillating correspondence!  No one furnished an opinion on whether Jason and Sonny will come out of that gangster-hetero closet, move to Vermont, get married, and perhaps even open up a “Sason of Love” B&B where they can play show tunes and whip up a nice frittata for their guests. I’m not counting on it, myself. But if any of you want to start your campaign of banners and posters, I wouldn’t blame you. 525,600 minutes. Sason of Love!

Ta ta for now!