Recently, I once again heard the strains of the tired debate regarding whether homosexuality is learned, or whether it is innate. According to one of the people that I was eavesdropping on (who I like to call Person A), homosexuality is a learned trait. Practicing, as well as presumably closeted homosexuals have consciously chosen to become sexually attracted to the members of their own sex. Since heterosexuality produces babies, and since baby-production is paramount to the continuance of the human race, heterosexuality is natural and instinctive. Therefore, ergo, ipso facto, homosexuals choose to be homosexuals.
Not so, said the other person to whom I was eavesdropping on, Person B. Would a person choose to be vilified, to be tormented, to be shunned by family and friends? Person B suggested that person A was presupposing a natural teleology. At this point, I dropped the thread of the conversation after realizing that I had successfully stolen both of their wallets.
Nevertheless, it raises an interesting question, one that seems very easy to answer. Is homosexuality learned? If it is, then a heterosexual may consciously become gay. However, try as I might, I’ve found no heterosexuals willing to take the leap and “become gay.” I certainly thought that, among the community of those insisting that homosexuality is learned, that a hearty few may have tried for the sake of science. Imagine my surprise to find no studies or experimentation (at least, no recorded nor admitted experimentation) from these august fellows. Certainly they wouldn’t make these broad generalizations, thought I, without some field research. Surely Pat Robertson tried to become gay to show that it was possible. But such was not the case.
Being of a very slightly scientific bent, I became determined to turn myself into a homosexual. If I were successful, the same community that insists that homosexuality is learned have also provided resources to negate the effects of my self-imposed brainwashing. I could learn to be “un-gay.”
I immediately discovered that there were two major stumbling blocks that I had to overcome. First, I am amazingly heterosexual. My first memories are of gazing longingly at lovely, miniskirted legs and juicy boobies. If I were to become gay, I would have to work very hard to overcome my absolutely natural heterosexuality by becoming attracted to men and un-attracted to women. I figured that, if I can first achieve the step of becoming attracted to men, that I could then lose my attraction for women later. How hard could that be?
The second stumbling block? I’m married. Having man sex would necessarily mean that I had to cheat on my wife. I explained to her my experiment, also explaining that it would answer an age-old question. While she admired my scientific zeal , she was not willing to overlook our wedding vows to the extent where she would permit me to have sex with other people, scientific necessity or no.
This was troublesome. How could I ensure that I was well and truly gay without some field work?
Then, I had an epiphany. “Eureka,“ I stated simply. I realized that since I was quite thoroughly interested in heterosexual sex long before I had ever actually engaged in it, I could become a non-practicing homosexual, with all of the desires of homosexual men without the physical contact. This had the added benefit that I did not have to decide whether I would rather be a top or a bottom.
I started my experiment by watching movies about gay culture, and by watching a lot of television. Unfortunately, I have a very limited attention span, and fell asleep during my third hour of Will and Grace. I did watch enough to notice some traits of gay men. Most gay men in television are neat and thin. I am, while not some great galumphing elephant, not thin. Neither am I neat.
I explained my predicament to a lesbian acquaintance. While I was genuinely interested in becoming gay, I refused to lose weight, and was far too lazy to become neat. She explained to me that this was Germans call a “stereotype.” She told me that gay men come in all shapes and sizes, and that some can be quite messy.
Relieved that I could still maintain my messy, chubby lifestyle and still be gay, I then began the arduous task of becoming attracted to men. Her advice came a little late. I had already ordered and paid for what I had determined from gay media to be the consummate “gay outfit:” a pair of leather shorts, a mesh tank top, a motorcycle hat, aviator sunglasses, and army boots.
I realized that, in order to become attracted to men, I would have to look at them. To become truly gay, I theorized, I would have to look at a naked man. I decided to begin with the closest man at hand: me.
I disrobed and looked at myself in the mirror. I admired the line of my jaw, the way that my hair was tousled. I admired my sweet smile. My physique did leave some to be desired, even by a dedicated homosexuality student. I have a washboard stomach, you just can‘t see it. It was somewhat difficult to see my ass, but no matter. I still had the penis to gaze at.
My penis continued to dangle, flaccid. Apparently, looking at myself had no impact whatsoever on my libido. I decided that, since I was learning to be homosexual, I merely had to look longer. Sooner or later, I theorized, I would find myself attractive.
I had to give up after four hours. By that time, I had not had a single erection, nor a single erotic thought. I had shaved an interesting pattern in chest hair, looking like a large owl. That was a hit with my wife.
At the end of this stage of the experiment, I realized that, if I were to become gay, apparently I wasn’t my type.
I decided that I had bitten off more than I could chew by leaping directly to naked men. Instead, I would look at clothed men and slowly work myself up to naked men.
I had to find men. But how? I researched the question online. Unfortunately, searching for places to find men on the internet led me back to naked men. That was more than I could handle during this phase of my learning. I decided to hit the street.
I began checking out men at the office and in the grocery store. I watched men bend over, and watched men use jack hammers. I watched men play football in the park with their shirts off.
I noticed two things. First, men in my area are ugly and fat. Second, that I was not aroused, though I did seem to provoke the ire of the young football playing gentlemen, who thought that I was “creepy” to be watching them play their game while seated only a few feet away wearing my shorts and tank top, tenaciously taking notes. According to one young man, you could “see my nuts” from the way that my new shorts gaped while I sat cross-legged.
I changed my tactic, and tried approaching men, thinking that, if a man were to be attracted to me, my libido would be polite and be attracted in return. I began shaking a lot of hands, holding them just a little longer than is considered polite. I began commenting on men’s clothes and on their physiques. I employed every bit of my flirt knowledge at these men, but no takers. I ran into the same problem with the men that I had ran into with women when I was still dating: they thought I was kidding.
Living in a fairly small town which had certain fixed views about homosexuals, I didn’t feel that I could come on to any of the gentlemen that I spoke to. I was also unsure if any of these men were scientifically dedicated enough to support my experiment, nor open-minded enough to accept my explanation without resorting to fisticuffs and name-calling. I therefore determined this part of the experiment over.
Having spoken to and admired a fair number of men, I decided to ease back into looking at more sexually explicit men. I had exhausted my single resource of seeing a live naked man, and turned to the internet to provide more for me.
This experiment ended quite poorly. I found myself routinely unaroused by any images I found. Naked men themselves seemed to be inadvertently hilarious to me. Naked men engaged in sexual contact with other naked men was, while interesting and novel to my burgeoning homosexual mind, caused nothing to stir in my loins. One particular arrangement was fascinating. One man penetrated another man. The first man was penetrated by a third, who was himself being penetrated.
I tried to capitalize on my fascination with the final phase of my experiment. While I could not have sexual contact with any man, I could still provoke orgasm while fantasizing about a man. I would masturbate.
I tried thinking of all of the men I had seen that day. I tried thinking of the pictures. I was momentarily elated when my penis became erect. However, in retrospect, that was most likely because the little guy always gets that way if I handle him enough.
Sadly, I could not achieve orgasm. With weary arm, I type this. I have tried to become a homosexual, and have failed. Even after a long afternoon of experimentation and earnestly trying to learn to become homosexuality, I have decided that it is simply impossible.
However, it does provide an answer to the age-old question. Homosexuality is not learned. It is innate. If any of the blowhards who insist that it were otherwise were ever to give it a try, they would soon learn that I was right.
While I admit that I looked forward to becoming a homosexual for the sake of science, I’m glad that I’m still attracted to my wife, and don’t have to undergo the doubtlessly arduous un-gaying procedures.
I’ll accept my Nobel Prize, now. And I’m still wearing the clothes. For comfort.
