Take Me Somewhere Else
Today is the 100th day of 2015, and so far we have one word peppered about our English language that has surely been used more than any other word. Can you guess what that one word is?
Since our legislators are going to act like children, I feel we should impose childish rules to their amendments. Such as…no double backs! You shouldn’t be able to ban a ban just because the ban that was set in place wasn’t to one’s liking. Once something has been banned…it should stay down! You know…banned.
For instance, when our law makers set up a ban on Gay Conversion Therapy, you can’t call “backsies” on that ban by calling a ban on the ban. That’s just stupid. (Sorry, that’s just the only word I could come up with that would even remotely be politically correct here.) Want to know what’s even stupider (my blog…my words here)? Creating a “Freedom To Obtain Conversion Therapy” Bill so one could skirt around the ban that they want to ban.
Here’s the dealio…
I’m a grown gay man. I have been for all my life. I never chose to live loving another man. It just happened. I DID choose to tell my world-crushing secret to all who knew me at a young age. That took a lot of moxie! Let’s see any of you with a family/friend changing secret go out there and confess just to be alienated and bullied. I bet you won’t be able to do it. Yet, I’m called a terrorist because I love someone of my own gender. A terrorist! Can you even imagine? I don’t want to kill another man. I just want to cuddle on the couch while watching the latest episode of “The Game of Thrones”. And then maybe a blow job. Who knows where the evening will lead? Does that sound like terrorism to you?
And WHOSE business is it, other than me and my intended target, whether I chose this lifestyle? It’s no ones. When I was younger, I can certainly tell you that the last thing I wanted was to have the gay zapped right out of me. I wanted the total opposite! I wanted to get my hands on every ounce of gay I could get IN me. I had reached puberty and my testosterone levels were splashing all around me in horny teenaged puddles. Trying to wipe the gay out of me would have been akin to get a short person to be tall via electric shocks. Electrotherapy is so 1850’s.
Why does “gay” mean something bad anyway? Being gay is tough! And we like tough stuff! We don’t like silky soft skin. Or nail polish. Or hair extensions. And -trust me- we will take anal ANY day of the week long before a straight woman considers it. Do you know how unpleasant anal is?? I don’t call that “gay”…I call that “bold”. A lot of us don’t like colored hair, or hairless legs, or silk underwear. You know who does like that sort of thing? Straight men. Us gay men like throwing back a couple of beers, hanging out in front of the game on the big screen, hopping into the car to hit the casino, or hiking through a wilderness trail. If anyone is “gay” and likes soft, sissy things in their mate…it’s the straight men.
Somewhere in the parental manual it should say to love your children unconditionally. If they don’t like broccoli…you should still love them. They’re making their nutritional decisions. If they aren’t great with math…kiss them on the forehead since you’ll probably never get a bank loan out of them in their lifetime. And if they’re playing with dolls instead of Tonka trucks…that doesn’t mean they’re gay. You should hug them, and love them because they’re learning how to manipulate people. You know..like Congress and (insert any church here) does on a daily basis. At this point, I would think I’d rather have my kid be gay rather than consider political office. Have you seen those guys?? There’s totally something gay going on there.