So, I like women.
I like the fact that they tend to have longer hair than do I, which they often style in interesting and attractive ways. I enjoy the fact that they often smell nice – kind of like a human fruit smoothie. I think it’s awesome that they can giggle innocently one minute and then in the next, moan hard like a field hand singing Negro spirituals. And of course, I also celebrate that they have mounds of sumptuous, inviting fat in places that would be…unsightly…on me.
Now, I know that there are plenty of ladies who openly like women just as much as I do. These women are called lesbians and bisexuals, and yes, they’re pretty cool. The thing is, I’m beginning to wonder whether those labels actually mean any damn thing when it comes to the fairer sex. More and more, it seems to me that a not-so-silent majority of women are just waiting for an excuse to whip out the organic vacuum cleaner for those um…hard to reach places.
You know I’m not making this crap up. Time after time, I’ve had conversations about sexual histories with female friends and friends-plus, and I gotta say that at least like 30% of them have either savored the decadent taste of cuchifritos or served that shit up on a platter themselves, at least once. That percentage climbs to like 60% if we talk about heavy petting (what the hell is light petting by the way, and why would you ever want to do that?) and 75% if we lower the threshold to good old lip-lockin’. I bet it could reach as high as 90% if we asked whether or not they’ve had recurring lesbian fantasies/desires.
So what gives? When asked, lots of my friends have provided a stock response. “The female form is just inherently more beautiful than the male form. It’s no wonder I find girls attractive.” Right. I hear you loud and clear and I’m down to start the “Breasts: Not Just for Babies” campaign whenever you are.
Check this though. George Clooney is a really handsome dude. And so damn suave. But I ain’t never, neva-eva, neva-eva thought about cuppin’ his Irish-American buttocks or handlin’ his twig and berries. I don’t care if he IS a friend of the blacks.
This flirtation with lesbianism has got to be about more than a mere appreciation of women’s curves. In fact, I’d argue that two complementary forces are at work, one positive and one negative.
On the positive side, women simply don’t have to contend with the pressure to conform to the same rigid sexual mores that men do. From an early age, doing anything that looks like it might be considered gay is beat out of you, verbally if not physically. This is despite the fact that scientists like Alfred Kinsey have tried to teach us that homosexual experimentation is a vital part of growing up. Meanwhile, girls are allowed to sleep in the same bed, hold hands in public and just generally be all up in each other’s space in a way that guys would be laughed out of recess for. The line of intimacy between them is just never as clearly defined, and that’s gotta be beneficial to emotional development. It no doubt has some dope implications beyond sexual interactions, too.
Unfortunately, men have found a way to subvert and exploit what could be a completely wonderful thing. For many of us, lesbians and bisexual women are less like individual human beings and more like sex toys that talk. (As far as I know, even those life-size latex joints can’t speak yet…and yes, I’ve looked.) Why dominate one female when you can dominate two and then watch them dominate each other? And it appears this is an inclination that plenty of women are more than happy to indulge. Thus, we end up with the boringly choreographed, juvenile scenes in “Girls Gone Wild,” our fascination with Nikki Minaj’s sexual inclinations and her obfuscations thereof, and bone straight women engaging in random public lestrianics. (Yes, my children, go forth and use “lestrianics” with my blessing.)
Don’t get me wrong. I’m definitely not saying that I somehow object to those ladies who decide to take a stroll down the Punani Path, even if it’s just for fun. I’m just wondering what’s really motivating all of this steamy, girl-on-girl action. If it’s a natural response to inherent or learned comfort with same-sex attraction, then great. It should be encouraged, and I should be invited. On the other hand, if you’re at a bar and you’re just doing it ’cause you think I think it’s hot, then that’s just sad. Plus, it probably means that your performance isn’t all that convincing. Get back in there and do it again, this time with FEEEELING!