The other day my friend Maggie left me a myspace comment that read: “Secondly, I have concluded that you are a typical lesbian. I know, I know, we thought it not true, but as it turns out (and to our dismay) you actually are.”
Another comment left on my blog that read: “You sure have turned into quite a GIRL.” 
Now to the average reader, being called a girl or a typical lesbian may not seem like the scathing insult it’s meant as, when bantered between women such as ourselves.
Maggie and I used to be the only single ladies in a group of happily coupled lesbians. I have many fond memories of Maggie and I drinking vodka, texting each other even though we were sitting right across from one another, sarcastically commenting on our friends making goo goo eyes at their girlfriends or feeding them tacos with so much affection we wanted to gag.
We’ve had long philosophical conversations about how we must be intrinsically different from our friends. Since we were able to separate sex from love and vice versa. We prided ourselves on always being the one in control in any relationship. Always being the one that walked away, slammed the door or hung up first. Never the one that begged and pleaded or got overly attached against our better judgment. We were never such GIRLS.
So imagine Maggie’s surprise and maybe a little disappointment in reading my current trend of blogs in which I confess my undying love and devotion for my girlfriend in the most GIRLY, DYKEY way imaginable … complete with sappy stories of breaking up and getting back together and finally … u-hauling.
Geez. I guess she was right. I have turned into quite a GIRL … and I love it.
The first step is admitting it. And as I also said, I love you anyway.
I think you should just kill yourself and save the rest of us the trouble of ever knowing you.
Hey sasha, I saw you dance at Marg’s party last week. You were so good! I’m having a new years party, thought maybe if you’re not booked …. email me or call me. I’ll email you my info.
Ahhh shit girl!!! Liz just emailed me your blog. I was at Marg’s party too, you probably don’t remember me. But I took a picture with you before you left. I didn’t know you were a writer. I love your blog. Now I have to go back and start from the beginning. When are you dancing again? Let me know and I’m so there.
I’m sad to hear you’re not dancing anymore? What happened? I was planning on coming to see you perform.