Queen Hetero

A few nights ago, I spent four hours of quality time on the phone with a friend I never realized how much I missed talking to. We discussed our sexual conquests, bitches we hate, and rehashed old shit that amused us. During the course of the conversation, our sexuality came up and I told her I was proud to be straight. She called me a flaming heterosexual and attempted to explain why not one single woman tried to hit on me when we were in Boystown for the Pride Parade. I wondered if that big ass bacon cheeseburger I devoured instead of the fish tacos gave me away. I mean, I wasn’t wearing panties and the only person who tried to talk to me was a man….in a lesbian bar (he was an actual man, we researched). Do I really give off straight vibes? I’m the most sexually tolerant person out there. I judge people on socio-economic status not sexuality – I’m a classist, not a bigot – but is my heterosexuality that obvious. After being told a million times: YES!!!!!!, I realized that my love of sports and ability to apply male logic and reason didn’t make up for the fact that I love the mens. I truly love the mens. During our four hour giggle-fest, I played through my mind what I loved about men so much and came up with a whole bunch of reasons, but these are my top three:

Penises How do I love the penis? Let me count the ways. Sex is one of THE most wonderful activities I participate in and quite frankly, if I got some more often, I’d list it as a hobby. Oral sex is great and all, but after about 7 minutes, he’s getting the countdown. By the time I get to one, I need us to be engaging in intercourse. Same goes for foreplay. To hell with all that kissing and cuddling crap. Penises are awesome and if you have one, I need you to be using it during sex not letting it dangle…or point….there while we’re wasting valuable time holding hands. Ah, the male genitalia. God’s gift to heterosexual women….and homosexual men….and bisexual men and women….ok, God’s gift.

Facial Hair Nothing says manhood like a goatee. (Sorry my non-black sisters, Sistas like facial hair). I like the way it tickles my face when we kiss. I like the way it tickles my thighs when he kisses. I like wiping away that piece of cheese after he finishes that slice of pizza. Mustaches frame their full, supple lips and beards…wooosaaaahhhh…..don’t get me started on beards. While visiting New York, I could barely take it, all those beautiful men standing around with their beautiful East Coast facial hair. My condolences to men who lack the testosterone to grow fully developed facial hair because nothing says “I am man, hear me roar” like sexy ass sideburns.

Ego The male ego is a wonderful thing. It’s what keeps you all driving in circles because they’ll be damned if they pull over for directions (rest assured, a man invented Tom Tom just so he’d never have to hear his wife’s mouth when they were lost). It’s also what makes your birthday gifts from him extra special because he’ll also be damned if your ex did a better job than he does. The male is ego is a fragile thing, more fragile than a woman’s, because for the most part, they refuse to let anyone know when it’s been harmed. You’ll never know when you’ve hurt their feelings because men don’t get their feelings hurt but there is nothing sexier than a man who says, “I’m not crying. I got something in my eye.”

As it stands, I would make a terrible lesbian. Nothing about me says I’d do well in a relationship with a chick…never mind the fact that I was born straight and I’m anti-switch teams for asinine reasons. Breasts are gross (mine are small), I refuse to not be the pretty one, and I swear I’m not sharing my clothes, shoes, and feminine hygiene products. I was almost gay for like 30 seconds when I revealed my crush on Halle Berry until I was told everyone has a crush on Halle Berry. Sorry ladies, I’m sticking with men. I’m here, I’m not queer. Get used to it.


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  1. Trackback: Tweets that mention Queen Hetero « Uncommon Sense -- Topsy.com

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