|[Mariedda by Sarah R. Thanks!]|
G'day, bush rangers!
Well, what an exciting morning this has been.
So: Once upon a time, there was an elegant little Italian bakery on my street that sold almond cookies.
They melted on your tongue and were as light as air and were naturally gluten-free, since they were made of nothing but almond flour and sugar and perfection.
Each cookie was shaped like a delicate clamshell and cost like $5.
It was outrageous.
They were worth it.
Now: The girl who ran the bakery was really nice.
And she was really, really, unbelievably hot.
She had a shaved head, the hint of an accent, a dangling cross earring in just one ear, a husband (lalalaIdon'tseeeeeehim), a beaming white smile, and a tight white apron that showed off her boyish hips.
She looked exactly like Ani Difranco during that period when all dykes everywhere were in love with her.
When you bought a cookie, or, in a fit of extravagance, two of them, she would chat with you for minutes on end about your day, looking deep into your eyes - no matter how long the line was - as she carefully wrapped each almond cloud in whisper-thin gold tissue paper and lovingly tied it with a real satin ribbon.
She would always give every cookie a gentle, final pat when finished and then wink at you as you walked out the door, as if she had just caressed your bottom in a crowded room and no one had noticed.
I fucking worshipped her.
So did everyone else in the neighborhood.
She did a brisk business with lesbians who queued up just to look at her and sigh at the damn waste of it all.
One day, while walking down the street, jingling the quarters in my pocket, I looked in the windows of the Italian bakery...and it was gone.
Gone! The windows were papered up! A hastily scribbled note on the door said, "Thank you to all our wonderful customers!"
My cookies! My crush!
I never even knew her name.
Or found out how to make those cookies.
A cold, pastryless month went by.
This morning, as I went to get coffee, I saw it:
They had replaced my bakery with an old-fashioned candy store!!
The best possible replacement!
Candy buttons! Candy sticks in glass jars! Butterscotch! Rock sugar in rainbow colors!
Thrilled beyond belief, ready to welcome the new candy store with my patronage, I tried to push the door open, but it was stuck.
There were two aproned men inside, behind the register.
They looked at me quizzically.
Thinking that I needed a bit more force to push it open, I flung myself repeatedly against the glass door like a demented seagull, all the while yelling "Candy store! Candy store!"
The store was just locked.
It wasn't open yet.
'Cause it was 8:30 a.m. on a Sunday.
Inside, the two owners were staring at me with that special expression I used to save, when working at Whole Foods, for women in yoga pants who were freaking the fuck out because they couldn't find their favorite chocolate bar.
Well! Who cares.
There's a candy store in my neighborhood now, and even though I'll miss the almond cookies, and I'll miss the girl who baked them...somehow, some way, I shall carry on.
That girl, btdubbs, was my first official crush on a known straight girl in years.
I usually can't get a crush on straight girls, no matter how cute.
Maybe it's the pheromones or something.
But! there's a first for everything, and astute reader (name has been changed) Ella R. wants to talk about firsts.
She sent me this:
Dear Effing Dykes chica,
I liked the last blog about trying to figure out if you're on a date with a girl. But I need your advice please. Could you maybe talk about what to do when you both already know you're on a date? I'm 18 and I've been out on a couple dates with this girl I like alot, and we've made out and it's been hot and I think I want to sleep with her but I'm a virgin lol. How do I...do that? What was your first time like?
|[thanks Theresa E.]|
I'm happy you asked this, Ella.
We'll do the last blog - How Do You Know If You're On a Date? - and this blog - What To Do With Your Hands After You've Solved That Riddle - as like a two-part miniseries, mmkay?
A very special Dyke Dating episode.
That's not to say I'm going to be any help.
In fact, I'm about the worst person possible to ask about transitioning from "the date" to "more".
This is because:
#1. I have no game.
|[thanks Essie and Jules]|
You will learn nothing from me here.
It's actually frightening how little game I have.
"Um. I have hot cider. But...it's at my house."
That, y'allfags, is verbatim what I said when I recently asked a crush to come home with me after a date.
I have never successfully had that moment that dykes in movies and TV shows have - you know, that moment when both women just look at each other and suddenly know they're gonna go do it.
I don't know how to do that.
That instant thing.
I would say that it probably just doesn't happen like that in real life, except I personally know several irritating gayelles who can lock eyes with a woman across the room and be fucking in a bathroom stall half an hour later.
Since I have a hard time figuring out whether or not I'm on a date in the first place, multiply that uncertainty by, oh, say, A THOUSAND MILLION and you get a good idea of how well I'll be able to tell if someone wants to sleep with me.
I require things to be spelled out.
I need to know everyone's on board. I could never just go on a date, sense a girl is into me, and grab her face.
WHAT IF I WAS WRONG??
I always ask. Even if it kills the mood.
I need to know.
"Sooo...I like you. Do you like me? Yes? Ok, I'm wondering if you want to maybe, um, come over. Like, later. Not right now. (Pause) Tonight, though."
"Do you want to make out? But maybe not do more than that just yet?"
I have said these things.
I'll take the weird looks I get! I don't mind!
At least then I'm sure that all parties involved really do want to get down.
But really though - it's unnecessary.
Why would anyone stick around longer than they wanted to?
Other people will help you with knowing what to do.
Go with your gut, Ella. You'll know if she wants to sleep with you. You'll know when the time is right.
If you're not sure, you can always ask.
|[Thanks Liz S. from zac-e-wannabe]|
#2. My first time sleeping with a girl...was terrible.
I can't believe we've never shared our "first time" stories here.
I mean, it was obviously not the worst ever because I was actually having sex with a girl and that was something I was deeply interested in doing, but things could have been better.
My first time should have been amazing.
It should have been all naked boobs and soft skin and omigod and rainbow glitter starbursts all flying around the room and shit.
It should have been like when King Arthur pulls the sword from the stone and realizes he's the boy king and that his whole life has been gearing up to that. exact. moment.
But instead, it was awful - I couldn't enjoy a minute of it.
Because I lied, Ella.
I lied to my first girlfriend. I told her I had "done it before."
I told her this because I was so, so, so ready to sleep with her (dying for it) and I knew she was nervous to have sex with another girl and she wanted someone to "show her the ropes" so she didn't "do it wrong."
I was terrified that she would change her mind and not sleep with me if she found out I was a virgin, so...
I said I had experience.
And I DID have experience!
...with my own hand.
|[thanks Annaliese L.]|
How different could it be? I reasoned. She's got what I've got.
I know my way around my stuff.
|[thanks Amanda W.]|
What a shitty thing to do.
How assy can you be.
It could have been beautiful.
It could have been two girls learning from one another and sharing each other's first time having ladysex.
Instead, I was in a cold sweat and panicking because I couldn't get her bra undone and her clit, mysteriously, seemed to work differently than mine.
I don't really even remember the sex part.
All I remember is worrying about whether or not my girlfriend was buying it, and concentrating very hard on whether or not she was having a good time.
It didn't last very long. It was panicky teenaged groping, it was utterly unromantic and awful, and it was all my fault for being a lying asshole.
Ohhhmigod Ella learn from me. Never lie about sex stuff.
I think your first time is important, and I would do it all over - start from scratch - if I could.
*Navel Gazing!* It's possible that the reason I over-communicate now, when trying to transition from "date" to "bed", is a direct result of my utter lack of communication back in the day.
Like the Ghost of Christmas Past, doomed to wander the earth in penance for his deeds in life.
The only thing I've ever learned about moving from a date to physical stuff is:
You can't intention sex.
You can't control it, either.
Planning to have sex makes things weird. There's another person involved, y'know.
If it's supposed to happen, it'll happen.
And if it doesn't, there's a reason.
|[thanks Kelsie and Cam]|
Anybody got any advice for Ella and her dating transition problems?
Who has a better "first time" story than me?