Even as a teenager I knew what I liked. I had no doubt as to what I was attracted to, but I refused to give up on heterosexuality so quickly. 'Surely it must have something about it that I'm missing', I thought. So I persevered. I had a girlfriend named Becky in my freshman year of high school. We went roller skating together on Saturdays, and every weekday evening I would walk uptown to the phone booth (it was still a small town back then, and as far as I know had just that one phone booth) so that I could call and talk to her in private. We broke up near the end of that school year and I was devastated. Not because I had any love for Becky, but because I couldn't understand how anybody could resist my nerdy charms. I managed to go for two years without another girlfriend, but I needed to quell the rumors and in my senior year started going out with a girl named Bonnie. Bonnie and I would double date with a friend of mine and his girl friend, and just about every date would end with us parked in the forest preserve parking lot where I would explore the inside of Bonnie's mouth with my tongue. That was as far as it ever went. Once again I was dumped, and once again I was devastated for the same reason as before. My final stab at heterosexuality happened after high school. I started dating a girl who the only thing we had in common was that we both smoked weed. We would smoke, and go to a movie. We would smoke, and go to a rock concert. We would smoke and listen to record albums in the dark. I specifically remember listening to Tommy by The Who and the first Led Zeppelin album with her. What I don't remember is ever having any intimacy with her or her name. We went out for months but I do not even remember what she looked like. I do remember clearly our very last date though. We had smoked some pot, did a hit of LSD, and went to see Led Zeppelin at the Kinetic Playground. After the concert and while the drugs were still kicking our ass, we climbed into my car for the ride home. She immediately started screaming and scrambled across my lap and out the driver's side door.
"I've been stung! I've been stung!" she screamed.
It turned out that she was allergic to bee stings and was freaking out because she was sure a giant bee had just stung her. As she ran up and down the street screaming that she'd been stung, I ran after her assuring her that bees do not come out at night, nor do they live in my car. Eventually I convinced her that I had killed the bee in my car, and that if she started to go into anaphylactic shock on the way home I would take her to the nearest hospital. Obviously we had taken some decent LSD, and it was also obvious that I was not cut out for the heterosexual lifestyle. That was my last date ever with a female.