"Wouldn't It Be Nice."
During a recent conversation, our new intern seemed disappointed when I confided in her that I had never been intimate with a woman. “Really?”, she responded skeptically. “I thought you had?” This is not the first time I have been on the receiving end of that reaction. I went into further unsolicited information about my sexual history. Citing that I’d never even kissed a girl.
People always seem to be astonished (and disappointed?) when I tell them this revelation about myself. Their questions then dig even further into different situations that I may have stumbled upon: “All your years of modeling and working in the restaurant business and you never had one encounter?” – “Not to my knowledge,” I respond. They make an attempt to unlock memories (because I might have forgotten this information.) As if being intimate with a woman may be the same thing as misplacing your keys. Looking back, there have been solicitations – but I was just too clueless to know they were solicitations.
I’m no Alfred Kinsey, but I do like to pry into people’s personal lives and ask them all sorts of inappropriate questions. That being said: I’ve compiled lots of unscientific data. The results seem to point to the fact that most people have had some sort of experience with somebody outside of their self-identified sexual orientation.
The opportunist in me thinks it would be lovely if I was interested in both men and women. Finding a mate would be like shooting a fish in a barrel. “The world is your oyster!” … so to speak. Maybe I just haven’t met Ms. Right? I yearn to be a more enlightened being. It would allow me to open my sexual inhibitions to the other half of society. If Kinsey’s theory is correct – that most don’t fit into neat and exclusive heterosexual or homosexual categories – then maybe all I’m waiting for is the right gal to come along and stir up my latent homosexuality.
I’ll admit that I sometimes find myself watching Ellen DeGeneres and there are moments that I’m attracted to her. I mean – she’s definitely my type: witty, thoughtful, a fantastic dancer with a great haircut, and you get the feeling she’s a tad naughty. My thoughts start to wander … Ellen and I, driving around LA in her Porsche Cayenne, wearing our white Converse sneakers and talking about adoption. We arrive home for a heart-to-heart talk with our dog therapist, which goes very well. Then, we’re finally alone in bed and – my fantasy fades to black.
It’s a really cute idea – until its show time.