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Show 180 It was in college when it was first pointed out to me that I was participating in perpetuating the political regime of heterosexuality. The woman relaying the information pointed a text written by Monique Wittig at me as though she were about to throw it, but I wasn't surprised by the news. There has always seemed something a little sketchy about heterosexuality to me-not that I can't envision a woman liking a man. If people can be into Phil Collins and outdoor festivals, then men are a possibility as well, even those men who consider it solid hygiene to splash cologne on top of pizza or oil stains before going out. By this time, three years after I graduated from Pleasant Grove High School, the majority of my classmates were married to a class of young men who, in the yearbook, described their biggest pet peeve about girls in the following order: 1. When they don't want a boyfriend 2. When they don't trust you 3. Swearing In another poll twelve pages over, the guys' top three things to do: 1. Just chill 2. Basketball 3. Taco Bell As for how the stationary noun Taco Bell became an activity, maybe you just had to grow up in the right area. It wasn't one of the yearbook questions, but I knew that romance for this generation meant removing the inside door handle from one's car so the girls would have no choice but to have the door opened for them. They threw those door handles into the field next to Walkers where they gleamed like snakes in the sun for years. |