The Big News out of Hollywood is that Clay Aiken will reportedly “come clean” this week in People magazine.
Which is great. Most people should share their sexual preferences. Should be mandatory in fact and by all means, public.
Put it on licenses: “D.O.B: 05/12/80, F.S.P.: Doggy-style”. Put it on epitaphs: “Here lies Philip Wilson. Sheep lover”. Put it on resumes (“Best Place I Got Laid”).
Because after all, the culture is obsessed with sex—and classifying sexual impulses.
“Are you homosexual?” is a counter-intuitive question. How can a brain–a rational tool—be expected to tightly-organize a thing so irrational and unpredictable as the body’s libido?
Do you know what your penis will be attracted to tomorrow? Hell if I know.
Reasoning out attraction is like reasoning out the existence of God. Yet, this is what Aiken has done—labeled the unclassifiable.
And has precipitated the idea it needs doing.