I have five days off work, and I'm using them to do important shit.
I made a list of things I wanted to accomplish, and it looks like this:
*Find new job
*Laundry (involves laundromat)
*Fix that one fucking dress that's been in my mend-y pile for over a year
*Make Effing Dykes t-shirts
*Call everybody back
*Get CJ to make those muffins again
*See The Kids Are All Right
It's Day 4.
Except! I finally saw The Kids Are All Right.
Waaaay after everybody else already saw it, and now I want to talk about it.
Because it scared the bejeezus out of me.
Did you see it?
Mmkay, if you didn't:
1) Not a date movie; and
2) It's about two lesbians, played by Julianne Moore and Annette Bening, who have two teenage kids and are getting ready to send one of them to college.
One of the lesbians has an affair, it's fucked up, and they all try to sort through their shit.
The teenage daughter is also inappropriately hot.
But! That's not what we're talking about.
Not today, you horndogs.
We're not talking about the plot of the movie, we're not talking about some of the "interesting" choices the director made, and we're not talking about how Julianne Moore had a perfect lesbian ear-cuff or how Annette Bening was wearing dyke jeans like a pro. (Btw, who are the fagettes behind the scenes of this movie in the costume department?? Nice job, laydayz.)
We're talking about the really scary part of this movie:
The lesbian couple in The Kids Are All Right was extremely believable.
They were in their mid-40's. They were middle-class. They had kids.
And they were suffering from Lesbian Bed Death.
Ach du Lieber!!
Q: But what is Lesbian Bed Death?
A: Lesbian Bed Death is a jokey/ok-not-always-so-jokey term for a lack of sex happening when two dykes have been together for a long time.
The term was coined in 1983 by a sociologist named Pepper Schwartz when she wrote a book called American Couples.
Pepper Schwartz is the creator of nightmares.
You guys, I am terrified of Lesbian Bed Death.
On a scale of 1 to 10, with 1 being "least scary" and 10 being "It's 2012 and the Mayans were fucking right"...
I rank Lesbian Bed Death as at least a 9.
Scarier than when I had to give a toast at my sister's wedding.
Scarier than the Ebola virus.
Scarier, even, than the time I was driving through an endless mountain tunnel at night in the Swiss Alps with my then-boyfriend and he turned to me, smiled weirdly, and said, "You know, baby, no one knows we're here. How well do you really know me?"
Lesbian Bed Death, to me, is scarier than all of these things.
HOW COULD YOU STOP HAVING SEX???
I mean, I get it.
You get older. Maybe you have kids. (Fuckno.) You both have careers. You're tired as hell. Sex seems like...something you could do tomorrow.
Let's put it off. Maybe we could just snuggle.
Does snuggling naked count?
You don't want to picture your parents having sex.
Someday, maybe someday soon, you'll be the person a teenager is shuddering about.
Every time CJ and I are exhausted and just kind of fall asleep;
every time I stay up late reading after she's been sleeping for hours;
every time it's a Sunday morning and I bolt out of bed at 7 a.m.
because Sunday means the farmer's market and I want to beat all the Ukrainian housewives...
Shouldn't I, a homosexual woman in my prime (and I tend to think of "your prime" as ages 18 - 70ish), with a very hot girlfriend and a work-free Sunday morning be using said Sunday morning to fuck?
I get guilty about it.
Me: (poking CJ at 2 a.m.) Hey.
CJ: Baby, I'm sleeping.
Me: Do you think this is Lesbian Bed Death?
CJ: You are not doing this now.
Me: 'Cause I just really didn't feel like doin' it before.
CJ: That's ok.
Me: It's not ok! What if this is the beginning??
CJ: Do you want to do it right now?
CJ: Ok then. (kisses me, falls asleep instantly)
Cut to me, clutching the covers, staring wild-eyed into the darkness.
This shit actually keeps me awake.
I'm asking y'all, because you seem to have all the answers, and your advice really helps me:
*Is Lesbian Bed Death real?
*If so, is there a cure?
*Should I actually be losing sleep in anticipation of the moment when I no longer want to fuck on a regular basis?
*Has anyone out there experienced it?
*How can we avoid the fate of Annette Bening and Julianne Moore?