Women are too complicated. I don’t know how lesbians be lesbians. I’d hate to come home to some woman who’s had a bitch of a day. She’s all moody and shit. Crying for whatever reason. Not talking to me ’cause of something I may or may not have done last year. Asking me if I think she’s fat. Wanting me to tell her I love her all the time. I’d be okay with her telling me she had a headache and couldn’t have sex though. I wouldn’t wanna touch no bitching woman no how. Might try to bite my nipple off. I wouldn’t too much wanna talk to her either. Shit! I couldn’t take it. I’d definitely have to rethink the whole lesbian thing.
Damn group therapy. Give me probably a few hours of gayness around some other gay chick and I’d be straight like a mofo after dealing with all the shit I just mentioned. And what about all that rearranging furniture and whatnot. I’d have to help her after working hard all day. “Oh, so you don’t wanna help me?” she’d go, with all that attitude laced in her voice. And ’cause I don’t wanna hear all her racket, I’d have to move shit from here to there. She’d have all these projects going I’d have to somehow be interested in and a part of. She’d definitely be accusing me of cheating on her with a guy and she’d be right. You know, with my luck, if was gay, I’d pick the wrong damn woman anyhow.
Same thing if I were a man. I’d have to try out the gay thing if I were a guy. It wouldn’t be something I’d be born with or however you end up being gay. It would be ’cause a woman drove me to it. All her whining. Turning me on and off like a damn light switch. “What the motherfuck?!” would be that perpetual thought in my head. I can imagine myself as a man and some woman looking down my damn throat as I’m snorning, talking about, “You sleep?” and me rolling over with her eyeballing me, saying, “I can’t sleep,” and me telling her, “That’s your damn problem.”
But nevermind me. I’ve been over here with women folk so damn long and I get tired of them sometimes. Shit, we get tired of each other, I guess. Though, on the for real, I couldn’t be a lesbian but if I were a guy, I’d be twirling batons in white cowboy boots.