I have never, and I'm fairly certain this is a categorical statement, inquired of another individual about his or her genitalia, not even in a Navy clap line, where I was only doing research, thank you very much. "Yo, so do you have a hairy hoo-hoo or a purple-headed acorn of lust?" has never passed my lips in casual conversation whatever my level of curiosity, which, truth be told, is pretty much nonexistent anyway. This is, however, one of those arenas where interest and non-interest may have equally catastrophic results in terms of legal action and outraged SJW demonstrations on my front lawn.
Politesse is therefore the order of the day. One cannot even take refuge in the nominally neutral "what the hell are you, butterbuns?" inasmuch as the addressee may find any finite answer impossibly restrictive - yes, Virginia, there is such a term as "genderfluid" for the determinedly undecided and you're a bigot if you think it's the funniest damn thing you've ever heard, much less say so. O tempora, O mores!, a Latin phrase referring to fried fish but I'm not going there.
That was a very artistic post.
Damn Rotarians, always going on about vicious cycles...
>>”Hi, I’m Jane and this is Sally - we’re lesbians!” “Well, that’s nice,” I sez, “I’m a Rotarian.”
That’s genius! I love it. I will file that away in case I’m ever faced with that situation.
We used to get season concert tickets at a popular local amphitheater. Regular shows, you really didn’t see much in the way of PDAs, public displays of affection, beyond some hand holding.
But a show like Indigo Girls or Melissa Etheridge? Man, the lesbians were out in force, and they were in large numbers tongue wrassling with each other so you were sure of their preferences.