Tonight, the nation of my birth is expected to become the 13th country in the world to legalise same sex marriage. Any two consenting adults, regardless of their junk and what they enjoy doing with it, will finally be able to make a formally recognised commitment equal to us coupled-up heteros.
Thank the flying spaghetti monster it’s nearly over. Because the rude, bigoted, hateful and misinformed comments that have infected our news websites and blogs over the past year were making me lose faith in us as a species. All of them go more or less along the same lines…
The Bible says its wrong. Cool, well, even if you do accept the authority of a bunch of long-dead desert dwelling misogynists … they also frowned upon shaving, eating shellfish and wearing blended fibre clothing. Put down the mussels and the Mach 3 and burn those demon-infested business socks – nobody likes a hypocrite.
It’s deviant behaviour. Oh man … I bet you’d really lose your shit if you knew what some of your nice hetero friends get up to behind closed doors. Whether or not somebody should be considered a worthy human being really isn’t relevant to what they put in their butt. And if gay sex is against nature … I guess the sheep, penguins and numerous other species that’ll happily bum each other didn’t get the memo.
But marriage is a sacred commitment, between a man and a woman! No, marriage is whatever the two people within it decide to make it. Which also means yours will not be affected by the two gay dudes up the street getting a piece of paper and a party, so chill.
Gay people are gross! No, you are. And if you say that again I’m telling on you!
And last but not least, my favourite:
It’s a lifestyle choice. Why should we have to switch everything around when they could just choose to be straight instead?
Ladies and gentleman, to counteract this stubbornly persisting argument, I would like to unveil Exhibit A: Myself.
If one can choose to be straight, I can only assume it’s equally possible to choose to be gay. And believe me, if I could choose to be a lesbian, I’d have made the switch to lady loving a long time ago.
I’m no man hater. If anything, I’ve loved myself a few too many males. But male romantic partners tend to draw drama into my life as surely as a freshly cleaned car beings rain. The females I share my life with have always been far more in tune with my needs than my boyfriends, and much less likely to let me down or behave like dicks. The conversations I have with other women are more personal and meaningful – they’re happy talking about their feelings and don’t clam up. I don’t have to tiptoe around egos, or compete with the computer screen or TV or other women’s boobs for attention.
Yes, I am well aware that all this is related to my shitty choice of partners and no reflection on the many wonderful non-douchey men out there. But the fact remains – I’m much better at picking females who enhance my life than males. Except that the female body just doesn’t flick my switches. I could kiss a woman – but only if I closed my eyes and imagined it was a man. As for anything further down … the thought makes me feel super oogy.
I am what I am. I like what I like. And I was born to like men. Some men were also born to like men. And some women were born to like ladies.
So, hetero bigots, until you’re prepared to override your default setting and ‘go gay’ for a week to prove your point about gayness being a choice, kindly put a sock in it. And if you do figure out how to do it … drop me a line.