Obsessions change, man.

When I was ten years old, I decided I wanted to be a clinical psychologist when I grew up. I made this decision initially because I wanted to be Deanna Troi and it was just so cool that her job was not, in and of itself, science fiction. By the time I was about 13 I had read about 80% of the psychology collection at Bucks County Community College, and it still seemed like a good idea.

When The Next Generation ended, I got into The X-Files. Scully rocked my world so much that I considered changing course. I didn't want to be a forensic pathologist--dissecting a fetal pig in ninth-grade biology was kinda gross--but I thought being a federal agent would be awesome. Mulder was pretty cool, too, and he was a psychologist. (The writers had apparently forgotten this by the third or fourth season, but whatever.) Forensic psychology was neat, in a creepy sort of way.

(Um, when Star Wars was re-released, I had some half-serious intentions of becoming a Jedi knight. But we won't talk about that one.)

Now the only show I watch is Law and Order: SVU. I am nearly done with my psychology degree, so it's a good thing I'm not yearning now to be a detective, a forensic psychiatrist, or a district attorney. Okay, maybe I do want to go to law school, but one degree at a time. But anyway, Detective Benson is hot. My wife and I enjoy Detective Benson immensely. For a while we thought maybe this character was gay. We really hoped she was. I mean we really hoped she was. When we finally finished watching the first season DVDs this summer, we were crestfallen.

About a year ago I'd written an ode to Detective Benson's sexual ambiguity. I used Bree Sharp's very clever song "David Duchovny" as its basis. Bree, my apologies; but you know, "David Duchovny" came out around the time I was thinking about coming out myself. But this is my song, here.

It's Tuesday night
And it's fast approaching ten
My eyes are bright
Time for SVU again
I know I always think too much
But I can't help thinking it'd be such
A pleasure to know the object
Of that hot detective's touch

And I can't wait any more to know her intentions
I've always wondered about Olivia Benson
Olivia Benson, are you a lesbian?

My friends all tell me,
"Girl, you know that she's made up"
But deep within my heart
I harbor feelings for this cop
Watching her words for a sign
I've learned to read between the lines
I'm waiting for the script that
Just confirms what I opine

In the form of Olivia Benson's sexual tension
Not for Eliot Stabler, but here's what I'm sensing:
Olivia Benson lets down her defense and is
Getting it on with some dyke bar denizen
Olivia Benson, what's your intention?

She runs really fast and
She's learned to kick ass
And I know this is crass
But I know I'll just pout
If she dances about
I'll scream and I'll shout but
I don't understand why she's not out

My bags are packed
I am ready to appear
Down at the station
And find out if she's really queer
I'm just envisioning her chest
As she makes her next arrest
Reading me my rights
Please don't say that I'm obsessed

And I would say, "Olivia Benson, why won't you mention
If you're attracted to women
Or attracted to men, hon?
Olivia Benson, who gets your attention?
Olivia Benson, I hope you're a lesbian
I've got apprehension this'll end in rejection, but
Olivia Benson, I'm good at prevention
My love is immense and
I'm moving to Brooklyn
Olivia Benson, I hope you're a lesbian..."

I admit that at the grocery store the other day, I bought the December issue of Redbook for its (lamentably short) interview with Mariska Hargitay.