When Did You Know You Were Straight?
I've mentioned before on here that I work for AOL, and very little else about it. I like it that way...keeps my lives seperate and my ass covered.
Just this once I'm gonna poke through the membrane a bit and cross audiences.
In my professional life, among other things, I edit and contribute to the general well-being of my co-worker/close friend Kenny Hill's blog Worth Repeating and the AOL Gay & Lesbian channel as a whole. Now, Kenny and I have launched what is to be a weekly column exploring (some would say PROBING) social and cultural issues from the perspective of a straight single man (me) and a married (for all intents and purposes) gay man -- Kenny.
The column is called 'Straighten Out'. Many of you got an email from me this week soliciting feedback -- I'd encourage both of you who do not know me personally to check it out and critique away. If you think the picture is too cutesy though, you can fuck right off. All the homos at work love it.
I emailed a lot of friends and family (all straight, strangely enough) this week as fodder for next week's column... the question was: When did you know you were straight?
Every last one of the answers I got was AWESOME. I'm posting them here, sans names of course.
There was never a moment when I thought, 'you know what, I'm not gay, dicks are not for me'. I didn't even know what gay meant when I started liking girls, even though I liked calling people faggots.
When Jay gave me a Valentine in first grade and I dreamed about kissing him for the next 3 years...until I met Teddy in fourth grade - and so on.
I knew I was straight the minute I put my face in someone else's vagina. Up until then there was some doubt, as I have always had an awareness of the same sex. I can still appreciate a nice rack and a high ass. But oh no. That vagina. nothing doing. It tasted, smelled and felt all wrong. And that is when I knew without a doubt that I liked something different than myself. There is no substitute for an actual penis.
Never really think I made that adamant conclusion. Just always knew.
Never knew I was straight. Cuz I never knew there were options.
Remember getting in trouble for grabbing a boy in the kindergarten coat room and kissing him; just one in a looong series of heterosexual crushes, one after another after another.
By high school, I discovered there was some kinda gayness thing. Knew I also felt weird, outta place, different; maybe that was it!!? Thought it over for awhile; but nah, guess I was whatever I was; which, apparently, they call straight.
I knew I was straight the day I woke up with my face buried in my boyfriend’s sweaty armpit and, instead of retching, just laid there and drank in the funk. There’s no sexier smell on earth than a ripe armpit on the right guy.
The year was 1984, I was home early one saturday afternoon and found my Dad meddling with a new piece of technology- the VCR. He had rented Risky Business when obviously nobody was supposed to be home, but he played it off cool and let me watch it too. Looking back this was the perfect litmus test for my as yet untested sexuality: boyishly naughty Tom Cruise prancing about in his undies, or Rebecca De Mornay as the hooker with the heart of gold? Well I still don't like Bob Seger, and ever since the train scene I've been straight up and down like 6 O'Clock.
When i learned it what it was like to be around a bitch with PMS.
If you've got your own stories, or criticisms, leave 'em in the comments section...