People are forever making it sound like my sexuality is one of the most important things anyone could ever know about me as a person. The way they go on about it, you’d think there’s no way I can possibly be happy if there is a convenience store clerk in New Zealand who is unaware of it. The penguins in Antarctica must be notified if I’m to have a truly happy, carefree life of fulfilled selfhood.
But honestly? It is far more important that you understand this:
I hate asparagus.
Because the odds that you will cook me dinner are infinitely better than the odds we will ever date.











