Sunday, February 18, 2007
3rd exercise. Create a false statement about yourself. Elaborate on the false statement.
765 words
I’m a homosexual!!
There I’ve finally said it! That word I could never bring myself to say before, I’ve finally said it. Queer, faggot, homo, fag, There I’ve said more words I know I’ll be hearing from now on. So many words for one’s preference fruit, fairy, pansy, nance, auntie, queen fruitcake, poof, all describe me. “Gay Pride,” I hear so much about it. Am I to be proud because I can be referred to in so many terms that essentially have the same meaning? I wonder if there is any other word in the English language that has as many definitions as “Queer”?
Who knows why one person is queer and another isn’t? No one has the answer to that question and I’ll tell you why I say that. Modern science has tried to find, “The Gay Gene,” that ended up side by side with the God Gene. What I mean is they’re both useless because no matter what your genetic makeup it all comes down to your beliefs. No matter how you got them. Scientifically speaking there are perfectly normal women with children who have the chromosomal make up of a man, and perfectly normal fathers who have the chromosomal make up of a woman. “Go figure.”
Now that I’ve said the previously disgusting word, what do I do? Tie a sign around my neck or have a coming out party. Do I need to shop for something feminine to wear? How do I tell my girlfriend of ten years that I’m changing teams? Talking about teams, how’re the guys on my softball team going to react? Wait! I can answer that, no more showers with the guys, because they’ll all think I’m checking them out. No more passing the beer or water bottle to me for a refreshing swig. Funny how guys think, if their girl friend just gave them a blowjob they have no problem sharing a bottle of beer with her. When it comes to a homo they can’t bear the thought of their lips touching the same bottle, because he may have sucked someone’s dick.
From what I know, to be queer you need to have a sense of fashion. I strike out on that one. Next you’re supposed to be clean and neat, I know I strike out on that one too. The next homo trait is being able to lisp sweetly, and with my guttural speech I know that’s definitely a strike. How about being able to walk with a swish? Me walk with a swish is laughable; my heavy thudding footsteps are the bane of my downstairs neighbor. Strikes number five; wait a minute. Five strikes and I’m still counting could I have made a mistake and just said I’m queer for some hidden reason?
Unbelievable, a person saying they’re queer for attention. I know how to prove to myself if I’m queer or not. I go to the local homo bar looking for a sexual encounter; this will confirm my actions one way or another. I walk in the door, and everyone in the place stops talking and stares hungrily at me. I guess I still look straight and/or they smell fresh meat. As soon as I sit there’s three drinks shoved in front of me. Now I have three guys talking to me at once. It’s nice having this much attention paid to me for a change. I thank each queer for buying me a drink, and act as pleasant as possible toward them. Being this close to “these people” causes me to start sweating. I think, I’m one of “these people” now, so get over it. All three are young and for men fairly good looking. I tried to picture kissing any one of them, I retch, and need to run to the bathroom to puke up the beer I just drank. When I return to my seat the jukebox is blaring and there’s several couples dancing. I do a double take when I see its men dancing together. I chide myself for expecting anything different. A large black man asks me to dance and I politely refuse. I just can’t imagine dancing with another man, and when I think off having sex with one I run to the bathroom again. I guess those five strikes meant something after all.
The only answer I have to my question, “WHY!” is I must be going insane. Hey there’s a thought, maybe homosexuality is a form of insanity?