My Inner-Lesbian? Still Soaked

Can you tell us about “boob rituals?” The Lesbian Carwash, for example.

[Lesbian political writer] Kate Clinton told me about this. All the women take their tops off, and then line up and face each other and swing their boobs as another woman walks through them—like the floppy, spongy things at a carwash. I do this thing that just cracks my husband up. When he comes home after doing errands and pulls up grumpy and carrying packages, I lift up my bra and smash my boobs against the car window. I don't know what he sees because I've never been on the other side of that, but he just cracks up. It brightens his mood.

I'll bet it does. Since reading that, my mood is a lot brighter.

But this goes back to my theory of homophobia. In my theory, people don't fear homosexuals because they're different and threatening to all that they hold dear and sacred, no. People fear homosexuals because they're afraid they're never going to have as much fun as homosexuals do.

What that kind of resentment does to a heterosexual, I can't begin to tell you.

That said, if there are any really, really tolerant lesbians throwing a car wash this weekend, I would love to attend. I promise my man boobs can hold their own, and I'm not the sort to bogart the runs through the floppy, spongy, soapy tunnel. Don't answer just yet. Think about it.