That Time I Thought It Would be a Good Idea to Become a Lesbian

I was recently challenged to record the times in my life when I’ve been the happiest. The two times I saw myself as being the most relaxed, the most playful, fun, creative and MYSELF, were both times when I was surrounded by a lot of other females: first in third and fourth grade, when I had a group of really close girlfriends; and the second at boarding school, when I actually LIVED with all my closest girlfriends.

Before I go any further, I want you to know that I am not unhappy NOW. As a matter of fact, my husband is — by far — the most calming, peaceful, happiness-inducing influence in my life and — if anything — he’s like nine best girlfriends wrapped up into one. But, the times I’m referring to were something else. They were times that I was carefree and loose and full of confidence. I’m just trying to think about what contributed to THAT.

So, to continue, the two times I referenced above were also marked by something else quite significant: hating boys. Not the “Down with Men! Cut off their Balls!!” kind of hating (Although…). It was more like, I thought boys were disgusting, gross and lame in grade school and I didn’t want to have anything to DO with them. By boarding school, I was dating boys and the like, but my friends and I just didn’t go around trying to BE anything FOR them. They were just these guys who were also at school with us, were fun to party with and even more fun to torment by stealing their painter’s caps.

Am I saying one has to think males are disgusting, gross, lame and slightly insignificant in order to be happy as a female? Absolutely not. But, as a woman, I think you DO have to NOT CARE about what the males think in order to be truly successful. And I’m not talking “I don’t care what my male boss thinks of my work,” kind of not caring. I’m talking about not caring about the UNHEALTHY things males demand of us, like having firm bodies, lifted breasts, charming little sister personalities and porn star sex capabilities.

I first noticed this CBW-truism with the lesbians. The Lesbians don’t care what The Boys think of them! And I swear I’ve never met a professionally unsuccessful lesbian. I’ve met plenty of alcoholic lesbians who are in crappy relationships, but damn if those ladies don’t have a great job and live in a verdant, tony suburb of New York (all the lesbians I know have been melded into a one conglomerate lesbian to protect the innocent).

In college, I became so enamored with the lesbians I decided to BECOME one. I wasn’t attracted to women or anything, I just wanted to stop caring about what boys thought of me. There is a name for this kind of lesbian. It’s called a POLITICAL lesbianism, the difference being that you choose it instead of being borned that way.

Lucky for me, my foray into Political Lesbianism (or PL, as no one in the entire world refers to it) lasted about two weeks, as I was promptly discouraged by one of my relative’s best friends, who was: a lesbian. She could see much more clearly what I was doing, which was basically not wanting to care if guys thought I was fat in order to have some peace. I could do that, I just didn’t ‘need to become a lesbian to complete the plan.

So, that was it. That was the time I decided to become a lesbian. To the Guys, I’m sorry if you were reading this post in order to find some titillating lesbian sex descriptions. And, if that IS what you were looking for, thank you for giving me another reason not to care what you think.

Love, Cathy.

There's a good chance a lesbian couple owns this home.
If you look closely, you can see the lesbian owner of this home painting the deck.

Talk to me, people!

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