I'm sorry

I'm sorry

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In advance, I apologize for my stupidity. 

The fact of the matter is, I know I have a problem. But I don't know how to fix it.

Which either makes me smart enough to realize that I have a problem. Or more stupid than the stupid I thought I was.

Bottom line, I qualify as a worldwide leader in stupidity. And that pretty much is what makes me, me.

It's taken me 40 years, but I've come to terms with that, as has everyone else in my life. Which is my immediate family, because everyone else I know doesn't think I'm stupid. 

They think I'm retarded.

As will you when I tell you what I'm about to tell you.

I don't get the whole lesbian thing. 

I'm sorry. But I just don't understand the whole guy infatuation with Girls in Love.

What's wrong with me?

Oh believe me, I've tried to get it. I've tried really, really hard. But…I just don't.

That look on your face right now is that exact same look I've received from a hundred different guys when I spit out the words, "I don't get lesbians." The look I get looks something like this: 

"What? Are you freaking stupid?"

I know, I know. Listen, I don't drink alcohol -- which is gay enough -- but I've never gotten anywhere near the looks I get about lack of beer consumption as I do when I confess my lack of interest in the Land of Carpet Munching. 

I've kinda stopped talking about it actually, because I'm convinced I'm the only man on earth who feels this way. 

I'm a man on an island. And that woman from Weakest Link is not on my island.

Right now, you're all shaking your heads, thinking, "Poor, pitiful sap." Y'know what? Help me, then. I beg you. I want to understand. I want to be on your side. I am on your side. I really, really, really want to embrace this. 

Not a lesbian. The idea of a lesbian.

I'd like nothing better than to sit around with a bunch of you guys, take a puff of my cigar, and then, after a long, dramatic pause, say to no one in particular, "God, what I wouldn't give right now to see some hot girl-on-girl action."

I dunno.

Call me silly, but when I'm thinking happy thoughts about that Happy Thing called sex, I'd like to put my mind in a place where I'd like to be. If I'm not mistaken, two lesbians don't have a whole lot of need for what I can bring to the table.

And that table is a Little Tykes picnic bench, by the way.

I mean, sure, everyone has hopes, dreams and aspirations. And for most guys, those hopes, dreams and aspirations are titled "Women Who Love Women And The Men Who Love Them." However, in spite of my lack of concrete evidence, I would suspect there haven't been a whole lot of instances where, A. two lesbians let some yutz sit there and watch, and B. they then turn to him and say, "You. You're what's missing in this equation. C'mere."

So what is then? Why the male obsession? And why don't I have it?

Frustrated, angry and somewhat bitter over the fact that I was not blessed with The Gene, I took my confusion to the experts. A co-worker named Tom. And my next-door neighbor, Brent. 

I sat down. I took notes. I asked questions. I watched an Ellen rerun. I did everything I could to put myself in the proper frame of mind. 

Listen with me, if you please, as Tom pleaded his case on behalf of the Lesbian Defense.
Also known as, the Wet Dream Team.

"When I look at pornography, guys bodies are just freaking ugly," said Tom. "But then there's the beauty of two naked women touching each other. All squirmy together.

"That, my friend, is love."

For them? Or you?

"Lesbianism is so good because it's beyond the bounds of what we're told is right or wrong," continued Tom. "It's against social norms. It's everything we're told we shouldn't be or shouldn't enjoy. It's perverse.

"Trust me, it's not perverse. It's just good."

What's so good about it?

"Let me give you a specific example," he continued. "I was at a bar with a couple of friends, and one of the girls we were with was French kissing another girl."

Did you like that? I asked, feeling a bit uncomfortable asking another man about his sexual feelings.

"I liked that," said Tom.

Why? I asked.

"Because I liked it," said Tom.

Yeah, I said, but here's my problem. Regardless as to what they were doing, there wasn't any chance you were going to get a piece of the action.

"You're absolutely right," said Tom. "I wasn't in it. But I was close by.

"And in this game, that counts for a lot.

"I also have a theory," said Tom, "that if she's gonna do that, there's a good chance she'll do anything."

So this is about you getting a little something out of this.

"Not necessarily," said Tom. "I can't explain it. It's a mystery. It's like…love."

Fine, I said. But you're not giving me any data. I need specific information that can explain this attraction in a more tangible, rational way.

"Simple mathematics, my friend," said Tom. "Two vaginas instead of one. Four breasts instead of two. And two nice asses. And neither one has hair on them."

Finally, someone was starting to make some sense.

Next up for the defense, my neighbor, Brent. 

"Let me ask you," he said, immediately attacking me, "would you rather see two guys going at it?"

Interesting approach, I thought. Challenging my lack of interest by twisting the indifference to imply a question regarding my sexual preference.

Um, no. By the way, have I ever told you that you have beautiful eyes?

"Here's the bottom line," said Brent. "Women know how to please other women better than a man will ever know or understand. And there's nothing better than watching a woman being aroused."

Really? I always thought there was nothing better than me being aroused.

"Guys don't know what the hell they're doing," he continued. "They pounce on top and that's it. If it works out for her in the process, well, good for her. But is there a man on earth who really cares?" 

Ignore him, honey. I care.

"And on those rare occasions when you do whatever you need to do to take her to the Promised Land," said Brent, "do you really have any idea what's going on down there? C'mon, we're all just guessing. "

So what you're telling me then is that this isn't so much of a sexual obsession thing as it is a learning experience. A chance for men to gain a full appreciation of the proper way to satisfy a woman by watching someone who knows how to satisfy a woman -- another woman. Right?

"No," he said. "It's pretty much a sexual obsession thing. Especially when they're both hot."

Please understand, I've thought long and hard over this topic. I've tried to get people to understand my point of view. I've tried to understand the point of view of others.

But it's just not working for me. It doesn't make sense.

I think, ultimately, it comes down to me not being capable of enjoying an experience that I can never be a part of. 

Other than hiding in the closet and peeking through the crack in the door.

My fantasies are more enjoyable when they're founded in reality. 

For example, if I saw Jenny McCarthy walking down the street, and I knew she was a lesbian, I'd be thinking, "What a terrible waste of a beautiful woman."

As opposed to me just thinking, "Jenny McCarthy? Wow! I bet she'd really be into a balding, 40-year-old Jewish guy with a lisp and hair on his back."

Now do you see what I mean about my fantasies being founded in reality? 

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