For a guy who’s a total pope, Pope Francis is relatively non-traditional, but he still has some pretty traditional concerns. On his pope-tour of America, P.F. raised the issue of traditional family, saying:
“I cannot hide my concern for the family, which is threatened, perhaps as never before, from within and without. Fundamental relationships are being called into question, as is the very basis of marriage and the family.”
Oh man. He’s totally talking about gay marriage threatening regular family and regular marriage. As a gay-married, I wondered if I should try to see things from the PPOV (Pope’s Point of View) and attempt to live my life in a less frightening way. So I decided to try my hand at straight sex for a month to see if I could undo some of the damage my dyke wife and I have done to this great country.
I decided to limit my month to vaginal intercourse – the straightest of sexuals – but wondered aloud, “Where will I find straight men for vaginal intercourse?” This was like blowing a dog-whistle. Within four minutes, there were throngs of men who had come for vaginal intercourse, and they were multiplying like the loaves and fishes. Praise Jesus! So far, straight sex is terribly easy.
My first poke at straight fuckin’ was pretty relaxed. Mind you, this wasn’t my first time ever having penile sex with a man, it was just the first time since having slept with literally hundreds of women, so sort of like drinking orange juice after brushing your teeth. After about seven minutes of having a penis repeatedly inserted and retracted from my vagina, I got bored and decided to listen to the Ryan Adams cover of 1989. I think “Bad Blood” is my favorite. I want to love “Shake It Off” but it’s so hard to beat that foot-stompin’ original. I dunno.
I’ve met some very cool dudes who don’t mind when I pull out a magazine to amuse myself while they pump their huge clitorises against my cervical wall and sputter to a diminutive orgasm. Everyone has also been very chill about Peter taking pictures while we do this. I have to say, this whole project would be a lot harder with women, who are all sensitive and self-aware and want to talk and think and jesus I miss women.
It’s been almost three weeks and at this point I am a total pro at having sex had with me. I ordered these goggles on Amazon.com because my eyes were burning from all the salty man-sweat dripping onto my face. I’ve started to think of men just as larger, hairier, shapeless women. Also just straight-up started reading the thesaurus and have a dope vocabulary now. Maybe straight fucking will make America smarter? Y’know, because it’s so boring.
Last day of offering up my genitals as a squish-hole for floppy pee sticks and I’m almost done with this scarf! I’ve never had so much time to finish up so many little projects. I knocked a lot off my list while various non-women rubbed their blood-filled little nerve-knots against my artificially slick vaginal canal.
After the last participant dislodged himself, I got to thinking. This month of having straight sex wasn’t terrible, it just felt like a month of no drinking, no salt, no sugar, no TV, no parties, no laughing, no high fives, no carbonated beverages, no orgasms, no music, no sunshine and no coffee. So could I live like this for the good of maintaining traditional family and sacred marriage between a man and woman? Of course. Will I? Definitely not. I’ll slink back to my hot little apartment of sin, where my hell-bound wife and I dismantle core American values one scissor-sesh at a time.