My CampNaNoWriMo cabinmate Susie quoted a snappy answer to a familiar question: “Why are you a lesbian?”
Her usual response is “Because boobs”, which is something I’ve heard before, and makes a couple of good points right there. Why do guys stare at our chests?
It’s exactly the same thing. Because boobs. Can they help it? Yeah, sure they can train themselves to not be so bloody obvious about it, but the underlying desire is there, and I have no idea how you could possibly stop that. An electric collar somewhere, perhaps?
She quoted author Laura Steven “Boys are like buses.. they are cheap, unreliable and smell like day old dick-cheese.”
Well, put it like that, they are unlovely, and yet some of us are drawn to them. Why?
I don’t bloody know. Why do I like mangoes? Why do I go all gooey when a kitten snuggles on my lap?
Because I can’t help it?
You can answer some really stupid questions. Why does the sun come up in the morning? Why does it rain in Indianapolis in the summertime?
Why do I look over at my lover lying asleep and feel my own morning sun rising and warming my heart?
Because that’s how it is, buddy. Some things we can’t help. God made us that way. Our love is like water flowing downhill, it cannot flow uphill. It’s as much a part of the cosmos as right angle triangles and pi.
It’s a lovely thing to think about, but there is no answer inside my head that makes any sense, and no answer inside anybody’s head that has any more meaning than “because boobs”.