Once upon a time, in a land far, far away, there lived a lesbian going on a blind date. (Yes, it’s a true story even though I just ‘once upon a timed it’…) Back in the days of newspaper personal ads, there were no pictures to be exchanged, nor a free way to contact your ‘person of choice’. There was the good 1-900 number that you needed to dial in order to listen to your messages. Fine. $2.99 for the first minute, $20 bucks thereafter. Whatever. I was still in the closet and really didn’t want to ~start spreading the news~ in New York. I preferred my lifestyle to be a little more discreet at that time.
The phone call was quite pleasant. No complaints. Now, I have to change names to protect the guilty. So her name will be…hmm…Brittany. Why did I pick that name? I’ll let you know in just a little bit. We spoke a few times over the phone, and became very good friends automatically. She explained to me that she worked for a publishing company in New York as an editor, as well as attended NYU. She was twenty-two years old and ambitious. Brittany also informed me of her part time job, before she got the publishing job…as a stripper. Okay, fine. Gotta do what you gotta do in order to get to point A. to point B., right? Right.
Brittany made the suggestion to go out that following Friday. I agreed. She even offered to pick me up and take me out. Fine. This was different—because I’m the one always picking up & hauling everyone around, so I was okay with it. I’m usually a control freak (oh hell---I’m always a control freak) and I never hardly let anyone drive me around. It’s all part of that control issue that I’m not working on. I refuse. I like it this way. Okay, demented. On with the show.
The doorbell rings, and my stomach feels like I just ate ten thousand worms and a million butterflies. I was scared to open the door and see some weird freak smiling with no teeth. That didn’t happen though. To my surprise, Brittany Spears walked through my fricken door! I heard the angels---I was seeing the light---I was in my glory! She was absolutely gorgeous. She was wearing this long business raincoat with a beautiful expensive looking scarf. Her hair was bright blonde, down to the middle of her back and she had the most amazing doe-like brown eyes.
She took off her coat, and underneath that ‘business looking jacket’ were low rider jeans, a beautiful dressy half top, and…………..IMPLANTS! She had the most amazing body ever. My eyes were fixated on her as she handed me her coat. We were just planning on going out for a drink at a local sport’s bar. I kind of wanted to stay home with her at this point. I thought to myself, “Oh she’s not going to like me…Oh I’m so not her type…Oh she’s not going to think I’m cute…She’s probably into masculine women.” All these thoughts rushed through my mind as I sat there and technically ‘judged’ her on how she looked. I know…I know… Give me credit, I was only nineteen years old here!
We go out to the bar and she ‘told me’ to sit down and she’d be right back. Apparently she took charge and covered all our drinks for the entire evening. I wasn’t used to this at all. Again, I felt out of control. I was starting to like it actually. Our conversation flowed so nicely, and I felt as though I knew her longer. Her teeth were perfect; big--like a model’s, and her lips looked like she had collagen---but not that extreme look.
(Romey would have went gaga for her.)
Every single man looked over at her. Every head turned---guy or girl. She was a looker. My thoughts switched to, “Oh she is only going to want me as a friend…ah well…make the best of it…”
“I find you so unbelievably attractive, do you know that?” Brittany says to me; eyes gleaming from the couple of beers she had. Great. She is now looking at me through beer goggles. For the love of God---I gotta get them drunk to make em’ see I’m a catch!
“I wish I could kiss you right now.” She says, now rubbing her foot on my leg.
“Ugh, yeah, no… This is kind of a conservative area, and I know a lot of people here, so that wouldn’t be good. Although---it’s mutual.” I said, in this nerdy ‘matter of fact’ tone. What a dork. I could have kissed a hot Brittany Spears look-alike in front of everyone I went to school with! Perfect! No. I’m a BIG NERD. Say it. Deb’s a BIG NERD!
Remember “The Goddess” I told you about? The Goddess being the first girl I ever had a crush on that lasted over fifteen years? The one I grew up with? Yeah, her…Well she walked into the bar and saw me talking with Brittany. At this point, Brittany’s legs were overlapping mine and her hands were all over me.
“Hi Deb!” The Goddess says, as she walks up to greet me.
“Hey!” I introduced the both of them, and after I said, “This is Brittany.” Brittany said to ‘The Goddess’----“Oh I’m her girlfriend.”
The Goddess gives me a quick look; a look that would ask me, “HUH?” Yeah. I was outed by Brittany to the past love of my life. Shoot. Me. Now.
The Goddess gave me this weird look of approval; almost like, “Way to go Deb!” Great. After doing a few shots and some beer chasers, I got used to everyone getting acquainted with my “new girlfriend”. First date and she labels herself as “my girlfriend”. I introduced her as “Brittany” to the rest of my buddies, and she reinstated the fact that she was “my girlfriend”.
Guys? Lesbians? This is a bad sign for a first date. This is technically a RED FLAG. So TrappedInColorado---this means you. Do not attempt to continue dating someone if she pulls this stunt.
We leave the bar and head over to her car. Of course she has to warm the car up since it was so fricken cold out, right? 65 degrees will certainly make your car stall from the frigid temps. I then felt my head being tugged into her direction. There was no game playing now, and no ‘getting out of this mess’ even if I tried. Did I want to get out of it? Hmm.
This kissable attack lasted about thirty minutes. I invited her home of course. Oh yeah---and you wouldn’t Mikey? Now, those of you who read me on a regular basis know that I never dabble into the sex scenes. Erotica isn't my cup of tea. So I will have to do this tactfully.
Relatives and friends who don’t want to read this---look away I tell you! Look away!
There was no time for small talk over a nightcap. Oh no. That wasn’t the plan she had in mind. Her plan was to drive me home and well….’drive me home’. On the way to my house, we get pulled over by the cops. Lovely. Great start for a first date, huh?
Brittany had to walk the straight line and touch her nose. (No Leesa, that wasn’t the sex part.) Obviously she was drunk because she practically stumbled over her own feet. Not good. See how I don’t like being out of control? I needed to drive.
The cop comes over to me.
“You’ve been drinking?”
“Come out of the car please.”
He asked me to touch each finger with my thumb, and with each tap---say, “1, 2, 3, 4….and back again….4, 3, 2, 1….1, 2, 3, 4….4, 3, 2, 1…." I did it perfectly.
“Drive her home please.”
“Err…okay.” It looks like everyone was giving me their approval that evening. I was surprised he didn’t give her a DWI. I’m even more surprised that he let me drive! I figured, if she was driving, then I could drink like a fish. My alcoholism saved me that night. See how a negative thing can become a positive thing?
We get back to my house, and go straight into my bedroom. It was like a mad dash to see who can get there first. She did. She didn’t even know where the bedroom was---but she found it. She had bedroom radar. I went to grab us another drink, as she waited in my room for me. I walked into the room, and to my surprise, she was standing there with nothing on but her high heels. Oh. My. GAWD! I almost felt faint. Keep in mind that this was the second girl I have ever been with. My first was a bit conservative, and we usually took our time getting our clothes off. I have never experienced a woman waiting for me in the buff.
She looked like a beautiful sculpture. I didn’t want to touch her—I just wanted to look at her and admire her like a piece of……..art. What did you think I was going to say? Yeh. Whatever. I hear your thoughts.
For the love of God---I don’t even know where to start with this one. I am going to SO disappoint her! Her legs were thin, toned and muscular from dancing. Her stomach had soft ripples of muscles. Not an inch to pinch. This woman took pride in her physique. Her breasts were certainly a blessing from her surgeon. I wanted to kiss this man for the fine work he did. (Although these double D’s had no right to be placed upon a girl who was only 105 lbs with a size two waist.) It was obvious she went tanning in the nude. No tan lines whatsoever. I’ve never seen someone take such great care of their body. I just stood there like a deer in headlights enjoying the view, with the two drinks in my hand.
I think she got tired from standing there waiting for me to pounce on her, but I was scared. Do I start ripping off my clothes now like a savage beast? Do I throw her on my ~groovy~ waterbed? I had no idea how to handle this chicky. So she handled it. She jumped on me—and it was the most…………….
It was the most…
It was the most…
It was the most…boring sex I have ever had in my life. I gave her the good ol’ tap on the head. The ‘it’s okay’ tap. No. She wouldn’t have it. I started noticing that my ceilings were getting quite dreary colored and needed a fresh coat of paint. I believe I heard my neighbors come home. I looked at the clock, it was *45* minutes later.
Time to fake it. Yes. I said it. After 45 minutes with a woman who will not take no for an answer—it had to be faked. *GASP* Yes, I said it. I admit it. The favor was returned to her; which lasted a whole…five minutes. And no—she did not fake this one. I think my neighbors heard her. Hell, I think it crushed bin Laden’s underground cave.
We had a few more dates and continued our relationship. She got way into ‘public display of affection’, and I didn’t agree with it. Was she doing this to get attention? I couldn’t figure her out. We even went out with my sister and her friends one evening, and she wouldn’t stop trying to kiss me in front of everyone. My sister had to literally walk up to her and ask her to stop. She saw that I was squirming my way out of Brittany’s vice gripping arms. The guys at the bar were…umm…pitching a tent to say the least. So in my opinion, I seriously believe she was seeking attention from other ‘men’. The more men who looked over, the more in heat she got.
Short story long, or long story short, I ended the relationship. Her best friend Vinny called me up. “Best friend” my ass. He said, “Deb, why did you break up with Brittany? She loves you so much!” I had to explain what happened. We started being friends and talking—and he admitted that Brittany and he were dating the same time we were! She was bi-sexual, but not being monogamous. She lied to me. I didn’t feel so bad after faking all those “O’s”.
After our relationship, we remained friends for a short time. She became a born again Christian and started sending me pamphlets of “return to God and get out of homosexuality” material and asked me to come to church with her. She said I could be saved too. She wanted me to become a heterosexual. She wanted to save my soul. That was nice of her, but I declined. About five months later, she got into drugs unfortunately. She went back to dancing and started associating with people who were heavily into the drug scene. I felt bad. She was a confused girl with a lot going on in her head. We stopped talking, but I always wondered how she was doing.
Did she fake being gay? Or did she fake being a Christian? Did she fake her fascination for girls to satisfy her boyfriend(s)? I guess it’s safe to say that we all fake something in our lives in order to make someone else feel better. Why are we so busy trying to please others?
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