Dominated by my Neighbour: First Time Lesbian

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We’re even better friends now. I’m not sure if it’s because we share something together that none of our other friends do or if it’s because we know what each other taste like. She’s always been someone I could tell my deepest darkest secrets to and now we had one of our own together. Bodily fluids were exchanged—how could we not become better friends? Although we’re nowhere near ashamed of what happened, we prefer to keep it between the two of us. It’s better that way. The hysteria of nighttime at a wedding - everyone an inflated version of themselves, like bubbles close to popping. Things always happen at weddings. This is what I told myself the next day - this is how I wrote it off when Sarah* and I had sex. Finally, I wanted to show my protagonist coming of age sexually on her own. Not through uncomfortable partnered sex (which is how we often see early female sexual experiences on film) but through the exploration of her own body. Most girls explore their bodies long before they have experiences with anyone else, and yet we rarely get to see this portrayed on screen. Yes, God, Yes is, ultimately, a love story between one woman and her vagina." Lynette and I had only just met, but in the emotionally intense bizarro world of the cruise, where relationships of all types seemed to develop at warp speed and I was feeling enough emotion for 10 lesbians combined, I liked Lynette very, very much. A lot of it was, obviously, physical, chemical. But there were other things, too, that were harder to explain to other people or to myself.

Part of the reason why is no doubt what anti-trans lesbians (unreasonably) fear: More and more young people are realizing that they identify as a gender other than the one they were assigned at birth — and more and more young people are realizing they’re attracted to people of two or more genders. But even though there are plenty of trans and nonbinary lesbians, and plenty of cis lesbians (like me) who don’t think that “lesbian” should be defined exclusively as “cis woman who’s only attracted to cis women,” our identity still hasn’t been able to shake the sexist, classist, and anti-gay stereotypes of lesbians as uncosmopolitan boomer TERFs, sporting Tevas and cargo pants covered in cat hair.I would sob in a car to uptown Manhattan, where my friend Alia would take me in her arms and tell me it was all going to be OK.

If she does have feelings for you, which you seem to think is unlikely, then you need to think about your marriages before embarking on something together. I’d say the same thing if you’d fallen for another man. Tears rolled down her face. “Don’t try to talk. Doctor Larson says you’ve suffered a mental breakdown. I’m so sorry.” That night, Matie and Jamie convinced me (against my natural inclination to avoid live entertainment) to go to the evening’s scheduled attraction, a comedy set by Elvira Kurt. Before Elvira performed we were welcomed by Tisha, Olivia’s VP and our cruise director, who greeted the “ladies of Olivia” and announced a few of the events coming up over the next few days, including a meetup for the “Older, Wiser Lesbians,” or “OWLs.” (“Date me, OWLs!” Matie whisper-yelled next to me.)

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The more my husband and I (also a man) try to help our daughter stay true to herself and set boundaries, the more we’re the “bad guys,” which I guess is part of parenting, but it’s concerning to have to change the way we parent because of this influence. We just don’t recognize our daughter anymore. How do we deal with her, and what the hell do we do about the neighbors? Later, when telling friends what had happened, I did laugh about it — one told me it sounded like something pulled straight out of The L Word, which, true — but I was also a little mad at that girl, and even more so at myself for being so sloppy. The consent element there was indeterminate; I had willingly gone along with the hookup, at least for a little while, though I remain uncertain about how much I really could have consented while drunk-peeing in a bathroom the size of a broom closet. And that’s what we did. Laura took over an apple pie she’d baked yesterday. I thought that was too generous on our part, but I’m cheap that way. At dinner, we wondered why we couldn’t have both: explicitly lesbian spaces that also explicitly love, and welcome, trans and gender-nonconforming people. Our identities shouldn’t be opposed, but in communion with each other: butch and femme, trans and cis, lesbian and queer.