Lesbian Sleepover & Slumber Party Handbook: Games Girls Play

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The next morning, we talked briefly about what happened over breakfast. It was like talking about the weather, so nonchalant and casual. We were still somewhat in disbelief about what happened the night before but in no way was the conversation awkward. Really, there was nothing to feel awkward about. I complimented her tongue thrusting, she made a comment about my tongue ring, and we raved about how good the pancakes were all in the same breath. It felt totally natural and unforced. We didn’t talk about it, we just went for it. Our body language was speaking volumes, so I knew this was something we both wanted to do. My first sexual experience with a girl was about to happen and it felt like I was about to go on a shopping spree—I was just that excited. Everything about it was just right. Before I knew it, we were both fully undressed and groping like teenagers. I slept like a baby. I even remembered what my dream was about—that never happens! Despite what had occurred, there were no anxious thoughts trying to keep me awake and no signs of regret attempting to settle in. I’m no stranger to making terrible decisions when too much liquor starts flowing, but this wasn’t the case. I did start to feel a hangover trying to creep in, so I popped two ibuprofen and was out almost instantly. The fact that my friend went down on me and we actually survived the experience with our friendship intact doesn’t mean I recommend you try the same thing. Here’s why. The colours, the dancing, the MILK, the lesbian realness I am going into cardiac arrest @britneyspears #SlumberParty— Matt (@thepapsmear) November 18, 2016

We’re both confident in our sexuality. There was never going to be any drama afterward of us worrying what our hookup meant and if we’re lesbians now or whatever. Me and my friend are both pretty confident in our sexuality and how fluid it is. For others, this kind of experience might be pretty intense and confusing, but not for us. The film is a testament to how queer brilliance and proper fun don’t have to be mutually exclusive.” In conclusion, everything is precisely as it should be. And seriously, Millennials, don’t be embarrassed of your search terms. For what it’s worth, all porn search terms are mortifying. If your porn search history were ever exposed, it would be at least as bad as your Google search history. What does a non-embarrassing porn search history even look like? Like this, maybe: Tequila was definitely involved. The night started off just like any other. It was the end to an unusually stressful work week and my best friend and I decided to ditch the wine and go for something a bit more potent. At about four shots and two mixed drinks in, things started to get interesting…Cheap thrills are to be found here, but the extended focus on these women’s lives enriches the film.” 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 movie’s climax epitomizes the ridiculous, heavy-handed melding of feminism and VHS slasher tropes that makes The Slumber Party Massacre so uniquely watchable. If you’re hoping for a movie with gore and boobs, then this movie delivers on that level. But it also forces the viewers to question their own innocence. Unlike most movies of this era, the plot fixates entirely on Thorn’s female victims and their relationships with each other, the jokes they tell and the harmless weekend fun that drives them. The men in the movie, including and especially our drill-toting killer, are completely devoid of personality and hugely expendable. But the women feel a bit more realized, and their deaths feel senseless and brutal. Cheap thrills are to be found here, but the extended focus on these women’s lives enriches the film, allowing it to carve its own unlikely space in the canon of great horror. I felt more in touch with myself. Maybe it was the tequila working its magic, but a dormant place had been awakened inside of me and it was singing. I’m usually not that comfortable with letting it all hang out, but none of that mattered. Our two bodies were coming together and it felt totally empowering. Despite having unshaven legs, chipping toenail polish, and hair all over the place, I felt sexier than ever before.

Monday, fun day! The most popular day of the week for 18-to-34 year olds to watch porn is Monday. I believe—through sheer, un-researched and unfounded speculation—that this is because you have the worst sex of your life between the ages of 18 and 34, and that most of that bad sex happens on the weekend. So come Monday, come. Like you know you need to. It’s basic self-care. But don’t be fooled—this movie is not some erudite examination of queer longing and female friendship. This is no Portrait of a Lady on Fire—this is The Slumber Party Massacre. Dudes still have the monopoly on porn at 76 percent of PH’s viewers, while women make up that other 24 percent, and I’m sure feel very bad about it.

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Millennials reach the promise land of orgasm one minute and five seconds sooner than older generations, who, it’s safe to say, just need some time, okay? Millennials watch most of their porn between the twitching hour of 11 p.m. and midnight, whereas old people, obviously, need that sleep to live. We had pent-up sexual tension anyway. My friend went down on me because we had a vaguely flirty relationship previously anyway. While we weren’t crushing on each other hard enough to want a relationship or anything, we were curious about one another sexually and took whatever opportunity we could get to pursue that. In other words, it didn’t really come out of nowhere. This formula would have been drilled into the kinds of people going to see a movie called The Slumber Party Massacre by its release in 1982. It’s with that context that I invite you to relish in how deliciously subversive this movie is; it’s a testament to how queer brilliance and proper fun don’t have to be mutually exclusive.