A Casual Encounter
“Does it always have to be about sex?” That is what a reader recently asked me.
Yes, yes it does. Sex is the fun part about being a lesbian. When I was a baby dyke, I didn’t dream of nesting, I dreamt of fucking. Relationships are complicated; sex is simple. You might wait your whole life to find the one you love, but thanks to the Internet, gay
papers and vodka you can find someone to sleep with whenever you want.
If you are with someone then I hope you two are getting all you can, and if you are single, go out and get some.
To reduce your dyke drama, just keep a few things in mind. Although the rules for anonymous or almost anonymous sex are fewer and simpler than those for dating, there are still rules. Several years ago I had to leave a woman’s house at an ungodly hour (and unsatisfied) because I wasn’t thrilled with her sexual selections for the evening. I thought it was rude of her to wait until we were naked to start throwing me around the room like a rag doll. If I had picked her up at an S&M club or a bondage seminar, then I wouldn’t have been offended by her aggressive actions, but I had just met her at a dance club. I think the assumption that two people who meet over a cocktail while out dancing at a regular dyke watering hole are going home to have vanilla sex is a reasonable one. My thrill was sleeping with a stranger, not being manhandled by one. My date, however, did not share my point of view. According to her, a woman has to be down for anything when she goes home with a stranger. She was offended that I was offended and let me know that I was the first unsatisfied customer she had encountered. When I suggested that the other women were just hoping to escape with their lives, she encouraged me to do the same. (What really made me mad was that she assumed I was a bottom.)
Along those same lines, if I took a girl home and found a penis where her vagina was supposed to be, I would be more than bummed out. I totally support trans lesbians, just give me the heads up ahead of time, because when I order a taco, I want a taco; getting a burrito just won’t make me happy. I don’t care if the burrito wants to be a taco—I still don’t want it. Once you have the surgery, then it is up to you when or if you want to talk about your past and its parts. In my mind, once you buy it, you own it and if I can’t tell, then you don’t need to tell me either, unless you want to.
And by the way, being into body fluids or electricity are also things you don’t want to spring on a woman during a chance encounter. If you want to wear a furry costume or eat out of a dog bowl during sex, better you should take out an ad somewhere, so you can find other gals who share your proclivities.
How about amputations, or medical devices? Hey, if all you have to do is snap an arm or a leg off and on, then who cares? But if you are going to need me to hold something heavy aloft for long periods of time or empty a bag every hour, then you’d better let me know before we privatize our party.
If you are committed to someone else, should you tell a girl before you roll around with her? Are you nuts? If you are even thinking of telling some woman you are trying to lure into a tryst that you already have a partner, then part of you knows you should not be doing it. Listen to that part of yourself.
What if she is married to a man? That isn’t the same thing, is it? If you know that the woman you are about to get intimate with is with anybody, you’ve got to go. Karma is karma—it doesn’t matter whether we’re talking about innies or outies.
If you think dyke drama is bad, turn on Lifetime. Hetero drama involves gunplay, pickup trucks and creepy best friends named Chuck who do all the dirty work. It’s hard to resist being the “first,” for a woman who is “trapped” in a hetero situation, but chances are, you ain’t the first and she ain’t trapped. And goddess forbid you are actually the first, because she might turn into a Klingon. In her mind, once she has given you the greatest gift a human can bestow on another, you will have to pay for it the rest of your life.
And by the way, I have had one of those one-night-stands-who-cried-after-sex-because-she-couldn’t-stand-the-guilt-about-all-the- terrible-things-she’d-done lovers and it was the opposite of fun. That experience put me off Catholic girls for years.
What about that hot girl who keeps asking you to go home with her, but she is really drunk or high? I dunno—drunks and druggies are always more trouble than they’re worth. They always want to urinate when and where they are not supposed to, they are too loud and their hygiene is often lacking. But, if she is really hot…
What if you are on your period? This one caused a lot of debate in my circle of friends. Some ladies thought it was disgusting to take somebody home and then spring the redrum on her. Others thought it was no big deal because, heck, we all bleed. I guess it depends on what you plan on doing in the sack and how you deal with Aunt Flo. Ultimately, we decided that it was worth an honorable mention.
Don’t invite a girl to your place unless you have your own place. If you have four roommates and your “place” is a futon in the living room, which is, incidentally, also the only way to access the bathroom, then you don’t
really have your own place. If you have enough critters at your house to start a petting zoo, then you should probably mention that before taking anyone to the Wild Kingdom that is yours. People have allergies and fears, you know. And, for the last time, litter boxes don’t belong in the bedroom.
So much for getting in. As for getting out, the sooner the better. Remember, this isn’t a date. You don’t need to ask her out again. It isn’t necessary to make up a story about why you have to leave—just go. You don’t have to cook her breakfast or ask for her hand in marriage. Oh heck, I got you this far, just do your best. Once again, Dear Reader, it is about lesbian sex. May it always be so.
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