How I became a heterosexual |

How I became a heterosexual

Woody Allen says, “The Bible contains six admonishments to homosexuals and 362 admonishments to heterosexuals. That doesn’t mean that God doesn’t love heterosexuals. It’s just that they need more supervision.”

I don’t know as much about homosexuals as religious people or politicians, so I am curious about all the political and religious fuss about homosexuals and same sex marriage. It may be my experiences in organized religion took place before homosexuality became a major sin. It now ranks above adultery, divorce, teenage sex and the other 359 admonishments.

I thought we would lose interest after Jerry Falwell died, but too many people in the heterosexual community need a fall guy and would be irritated if we passed laws forbidding adultery and divorce, as these are also two of the no-no’s in the Good Book. Homosexuality seems to be trapped in the purists minds. H.L. Mencken defines purists as people with the haunting fear that someone somewhere may be happy.

My generation was far behind the present generation in sexual knowledge. In fact I had never heard about sexual preference at that time. I had acquired most of my knowledge of sex by looking at topless natives in the National Geographic Magazine. Movie actors at that time were required to have one foot on the floor when couples were in bed together. What we see on the media today would have been considered hard core pornography.

I now know that it wasn’t Doris who was the motivator in my decision making but an increase in my testosterone level.

I wonder: Did I have to make a choice as to my sexual orientation? If so, it must have happened while in ninth grade. Before the ninth-grade dance, the boys received dancing lessons in P.E. class. My dancing partner was Charles. One day Charles was the boy and the next day the gender was reversed. We both mastered the waltz and the fox trot, although Charles was rather clumsy.

I thought I had to take Charles to the dance but was advised that this wasn’t Kosher so took a girl named Doris, my first date with a girl. Dancing in those days was different than today. The boy put his right arm around the girl’s waist and the girl put her right arm over the boy’s shoulder and their bodies actually touched. This was frowned on by my church, but in the eyes of my church, I tended to sin a lot in those days. I found that dancing with Doris was one of the most enjoyable sins I had ever committed.

At my first high school dance, I believed I had to make an important decision: Should I dance with a boy or girl? This was the time I thought boys and girls were supposed to choose their sexual orientation. My memory took me back to ninth grade when my two dancing partners were Charles and Doris. I thought back to the hard body and male scent of Charles and the fragrant aroma and soft body of Doris. With no hesitation, I made my decision to be a heterosexual.

I know I made the right decision, as when I dance with my wife of 64 years, she has a seductive aroma and a comfortable soft body that reminds me of Doris. I don’t know how things would have worked out if Charles had smelled better and had a softer body.

I sometimes wish I could see Doris again and thank her for helping me with this important decision. I must have been a poor date as Doris showed no interest in me after the dance. If I had the knowledge of today’s youth I may have been more appealing to her. I now know that it wasn’t Doris who was the motivator in my decision making but an increase in my testosterone level.

Twenty years ago Charles attended our 50th class reunion, and for old time’s sake, I asked him to dance and was rebuffed by his indignant wife. As Thomas Wolfe wrote, “You can’t go home again.”

There will be many interpretations of my essay, many negative, but my father taught me that if everyone agrees with you, you haven’t said or done anything worthwhile. Most of this essay is from a true life experience with some embellishments and humor to maintain interest. Doris and Charles were real people.

My philosophy on this subject is best described by a Yiddish proverb: “Everyone is kneaded out of the same dough but not baked in the same oven.”

Don Cooks lives in Nevada City.

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