At one point of a gay man or woman's life they eventually would be asked: Why? Why are you gay? (Second would be: Are you a Top or a Bottom? But that's another discussion.) To a heterosexual, it's perfectly natural to ask this question. They are, after all, humans like us homosexuals. And humans are very curious about things they don't know. Even though some are more open minded than others.
The first time I was asked that question, I was caught off guard. My defense mode kicked in and I answered, "Because I love Penis!" Knowing that if I answered it in a blunt and perverse manner, the query would be dropped. It worked. But upon further contemplation, I realized I was not satisfied with my answer. It sounded shallow.
Awhile back, I asked my mom why she thought I was gay. Her immediate response was, "Go blame your dad!" Then citing an incident when my dad was in Seminary (For you folks who don't know, it's where priests go to school). Get this! My mom equates my being gay because my dad was hit on by one of the priests in the Seminary. Interestingly enough, when I came out to my parents, my dad wanted me to talk to a priest. Maybe to get some pointers?
Later on, I found out that prior to my birth, my parents have already decided a name for me: Leonora June. Leonora is my mother's name but June? I was born in February! For weeks, I badgered my mom to explain. She only relented when I made the threat of revealing my homosexual desires to all our relations. According to her, the Chinese calendar and where I was positioned in the womb ( an old folklore) suggested that I was supposed to be a girl. Hence the female namesake. Then they had me. That must explain why on my 1st birthday, I was photographed having long curls clipped to one side of my head. To this day, she still insist that it was because my hair was too long that it covered my face. It just so happens that there were pink ribbons lying about. How convenient.
There you have it, I'm gay because:
A.) My dad was almost molested by a priest.
B.) According to all the signs: the Chinese calendar and my position in the womb that I'm a girl.
C.) Photographed with long curly locks pinned with pink ribbons. (I did look cute)
D.) And the Gay Gene. It seems that my mother's side of the family spits out more gay relatives than a rabbit in heat! (sorry I can't name names)
So now, if someone asks me, Why? I'll just say, "I love Dick!" and hope they won't ask anymore questions.