Know How I Know You're Gay?

gay |gā|
adjective (gayer, gayest)
1 (of a person, esp. a man) homosexual
2 lighthearted and carefree:
• characterized by cheerfulness or pleasure
• brightly colored; showy; brilliant

I like girls. And I mean like I like girls like white-picket-fence-marriage like girls (count the "likes" in the sentence. As an english major, that's almost embarrassing, except that it was intentional). I "like like" girls. (Just for the record, I "like like" boys, too. Confusing? Try being me)

I've known since third grade, but it probably started in kindergarten. Back when "crushes" ran rampant and children didn't understand what butterflies really were, Kyle Cubie sauntered up to me and said,

"Want to go kiss in the girl's bathroom?"
"No." I replied.
"Want to go kiss in the boy's bathroom?"
"No." I insisted.
"want to go kiss in the handicapped bathroom?"
"NO!"

I tried avoiding him the rest of the day. He chased me around tables, around the playground, around the meeting area. By the early afternoon I was exhausted (and slower). I was drawing a face in a blank oval outlined on a piece of paper, when I turned around. Kyle, that dirty bastard, kissed me on the lips.

Know how I knew I liked girls?
I slapped him across the face. Hard. He cried.

I didn't really know that I had "feeeeeeelings" for girls until third grade, when I just wanted to stroke a certain girl's hair. Which isn't creepy at all. Nope. Not at all.

Know how I knew I liked girls?
I saw movies like Under Siege, Predator, and Die Hard, and all I wanted was to be a badass with a catch phrase ("Another cold day in Hell," "You're one ugly motherfucker," and "Yippee-kay-aye, motherfucker," respectively). I saw movies like Aliens and Resident Evil and I wanted to be Lieutenant Ellen Ripley or Mila Jovovich (or, you know, make out with them).

Know how I knew I liked girls?
I wanted to (and to some degree still am really upset that I can't) be a Navy Seal. Most straight girls dream of, I don't know, sleeping with a navy seal. Under Siege sparked that interest, and as I got older, the goal of being a female in the basically all-male elite unite of the armed forces trained by the IDF was the only thing on my mind (That, and puppies. Puppies are always on my mind). At Seventeen, I almost enlisted into the Navy, a former (female) fling had given the Navy my number. Not to mention the fact that women still aren't allowed to do combat. Whatever, I was going to show those bitches (all this coming from a girl who still can't do twenty "real" push-ups).

Know how I knew I liked girls?
While every other fourth grade girl (for the most part) dreamt of having a pretty or cute car, like a vw bug, I loathed those cars. I loathed any kind of "cute" car. My dream vehicle was a Ford F-350. I wanted something big and loud and fierce.
Ironically, I now drive a checkered Mini-Cooper S, which is not anything close to a Ford F-350. But, it's still gay. His name is Bumblebee Cooch. Mr. Cooch, to you. And he is fierce and faaaaaabulouuuusssss (and loud like a go-kart)! I have since turned more hipster-granola than butch-fighting gay, but I'm alright with that.

Know how I knew I liked girls?
While everyone else in my ninth grade class was making out with someone or looking up onine what sex really was (not what our schools taught us to avoid. A particular sex-ed teacher wanted us to have "firework sex" and not "squirt-gun sex" Umm...Kay?), I was completely uninterested in the male form and completely enraptured by the, uh, female form. I will not go into more detail. Use your imagination, and you're probably correct.

Know how I knew I liked girls?
Because I wanted to do 'em.

Faggot.