Genre: Gay, Society
by Rebecca E. Blanton
Original work, January 2015
Wait, what hon?
What do you mean, straight?
Straightened your hair?
Got braces and fixed your teeth?
Straight outta Compton?
Wait, straight like the dicks you like?
Please be patient, this will take me a minute.
Do you remember when we met,
you had a dual BA in women’s studies and American history
from an East Coast women’s college?
You were writing a thesis about smashing
and how that helped define modern lesbianism.
You were beyond gold star.
You were queeeeeeeeeer.
You were a Lesbian Avenger
eating fire in front of the Capitol to protest its anti-gay policies.
You posted Avenger stickers with a bomb printed on them and
it delayed you top secret clearance.
You knew more than 200 words for pussy.
You were so anti-dick
you insisted on non-representational dildos.
Remember, yours was smooth gold glitter silicone
and mine was a fucking dolphin.
When we went to our friends’ wedding
at the Unitarian Church
the service had no officiant
(fight the patriarchy!)
The reception featured
lacto-ovo quiche, ovo-quiche, vegan quiche and a tofu scramble.
You thought is was amazing
(Tofu scramble is never amazing).
We hold the lesbian land-speed record
for moving in together.
I had you sign a lease three months prior
to our first date.
We watched videos in our Brooklyn apartment
of men playing bongos with their cocks
and laughed like it was Ellen or Kate Clinton.
Our go-to karaoke was
“I spent my last ten dollars on birth control and beer,
my life was so much simpler when I was sober and queer.”
Did you forget that lesson?
Did I do something?
Did I break you?
I know people go the other way,
but generally it is finding out you are queer
when you are 50.
Wait, this isn’t about me.
This is about you being happy.
This is about you feeling comfortable in your own skin.
This is about you finding love.
I told my sister.
She texted back
“She likes big dicks and she cannot lie.
You other lesbos can’t deny”
You replied, “I miss your sister.”
So, who are you dating?
Really? He is s0 pasty White…
He likes Dr. Who?
He loves playing Chicken Riot?
He does not have a cap on the number of small dogs you can own at one time?
He calls you “Mistress” and does not giggle?
Good for you.
Glad you are happy.
Love ya girl.
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