Gymnastics?

In chit-chatting with a co-worker about what a kick-ass stay-at-home dad I would be, we somehow started talking about her friend that actively tried to turn her child gay. At first I was struck by the audacity of trying to turn your kid gay. But, after thinking about how many people try to turn their kids straight, my audacity turned to intrigue and then as always self-reflection and confession. This is where gymnastics came into play.

I am going to relate this story with comments embedded throughout.

Looking back on it, it would seem that my mother got her way when it came to all things raising the chilluns. We took music lessons, participated in school plays, and went to the dentist, usually against my fathers will (I mean they are baby teeth and going to fall out, what's the point). It seems the only time that he put up a fight was when my mother tried to enroll me in ballet (gay). He had to take a stand (straight). He made the counter-offer of dirt bike (super straight). My mother held strong with ballet (gay). He slowly worked his way down the straight pyramid to football (pretty straight), hockey (straight), lumberjack school (super straight but none existant). My mother held strong until my father essentially gave in and let forth the suggestion of "gymnastics" (gay).

Talking to him about this negotiation years later I asked him, "Dad, how exactly is gymnastics straighter than ballet?"
"I don't know I remember watching the '88 Olympics and thinking those dudes looked pretty manly. Then I saw that your mother made you lime green lycra pants for practice. And it was pretty much over when I saw your floor exercise."
"Yeah the palma horse is pretty much the equivalent of a mechanical bull at a gay bar."
"Well, I realize that now."

My co-worker and I aggreed that the vault was probably the manliest. You could imagine some dude in armor hurling himself over a horse to stomp on the bones of his enemy.