about sesbian lex
Even though I was no longer religious, I was constantly in my head about whether or not I was actually having sex and if toys, fingers, and mouths "counted" in the eyes of God.
Trigger Warning For My Parents - I will be talking about sex and the fact that I’ve had it… maybe skip this one <3
The first time I kissed a girl, I was probably around 7 years old. I would make out with one of my childhood friends when we were playing house and then we started making out even when we weren’t playing house (like in the bathroom at church when we snuck out of the children’s service). I thought that it was completely normal. Didn’t everyone kiss their girl friends? It turns out the answer is no.
I, of course, forgot all about that as I went through high school and college, obsessing over boy after boy after boy. But because of my religious upbringing, I was very aware of the fact that I was NOT ALLOWED to have sex before marriage and that even putting myself into intimate scenarios with a boy would be looked down upon by God or whomever is running the show up there. When my friends in high school got boyfriends, I felt jealous of the fact that they would have someone to sit next to on the bus, hold hands with in the hallway, and text at the dinner table. I spent my first two years of high school feeling incredibly awkward and ugly, working through some violent hatred over my hair and trying to find a way to make myself white. During my junior year, I was finally blessed with the “boys find me attractive” stroke of luck and started dating the first guy who expressed interest. I liked having a boyfriend because everyone at my school had a boyfriend. And though I thought being cuffed made me cool and chic, I absolutely hated kissing him…
He was a horny male teenager and was “respectful” about the fact that I didn’t want to have sex, but would also do things like slide his hands between my legs when we sat next to each other in class or stick his tongue into my mouth on the bus back from school events. One time, I was helping my parents out by picking up my younger sister from elementary school, and The Boyfriend tagged along, knowing there would be an “open crib.” We walked back home with my little sister, both silently planning for the make out session we were about to have (him with anticipation and me with dread). I liked the idea of making out, but in reality, I could not think of anything that grossed me out more than kissing him. And yes, in hindsight, it was the fact that it was him specifically, a man, and my body was in no way interested in that.
Fast forward to my first time kissing a woman as an adult. My first time was beautiful and cinematic and all the things. It was just also really fucking good. I still haven’t figured out the mechanics of what makes a kiss good. Is it mouth size, tongue involvement, or lip compatibility? I’m not sure, but I was obsessed with kissing. I had several days following that kiss where I wished that I could quit my job and be employed as a professional kisser. I never considered myself to be someone who enjoys physical touch. In fact, I used to actively tell people that I disliked it, dodging goodbye hugs and conversational arm grabs left and right. But something about being kissed split me open. Now, was it being kissed by this specific person? Maybe, but probably not. I think I just liked the feeling of being kissed and touched by someone I also desired. I noticed that I became more open to hugs from my friends and even strangers that I would meet at work events or parties. And no one warned me about what comes after kissing…
Okay so having lesbian sex is kinda crazy. I am not unfamiliar with female genitalia in any way, seeing as I’ve been exploring my own body since I was 8 or 9 probably (is that normal? idk don’t let me know if it’s not). The first few times I had lesbian sex, I was the definition of pillow princess. I simply could not get myself to do anything other than a kiss and maybe a gentle boob caress. When you’re raised in a religion that teaches you that your body (or “your flesh”) is sinful, it’s hard to get out of that mindset even though you’re experiencing pleasure. It took several therapy sessions and several times having sex to even begin attempting to shed that mindset. Over a few years, I grew to love having sex. But I still felt massive amounts of shame around desiring sex with a woman, laying there afterwards feeling a little bit dirty in my soul. Every time I felt the itch to initiate, I had a strong fear of rejection that would throw me back into the evangelical chains of thinking that this was something that I should not be doing.
What was weird about this experience is that I do view myself as a sexual person. It’s not like I’m asexual or don’t have any desires or kinks or fetishes. For example:
I have a huge thing for hands! (I go crazy for an attractive set of hands and can, and frequently do, get turned on just by looking at them)
I learned that I love a tasteful amount of spit. (I know everyone is swooning Hailee Steinfeld spitting in Michael B Jordan’s mouth in Sinners, but that was kinda just my average Saturday so…)
I am neither Team Ass or Team Boobs, I am solidly Team Thigh. (what can I say? I need something to bite into)
I think the most difficult thing has been coming into my sexuality, both orientation and sensuality, at the same time. Not only did I have to unlearn a lot of the religious principles about sex, but I also had to unlearn religious homophobia and societal heteronormativity. One time, after I got home from a long and annoying work day, my former partner ripped my jeans off and went down on me on our kitchen floor (hot, I know). When I told one of my straight friends that I got “dicked down in the kitchen,” she immediately corrected me, saying, “Well you didn’t get dicked down obviously.” Which, to any heteros reading this, that’s an annoying and homophobic comment to make FYI. Even though I was no longer religious, I was constantly in my head about whether or not I was actually having sex and if toys, fingers, and mouths “counted” in the eyes of God.
I recently got back on Hinge and toggled my preferences to “Men” and, for fun, threw a like to a cutie who had a picture of himself dressed as Carmy from The Bear on his profile. Am I going to date or have sex with a man? No, probably not ever, and that’s okay with me. I know that I only have an interest in romantic and physical relationships with women, but sometimes the thought does cross my mind that it would be so easy to swing back to the other side of the road. For some unknown reason (I’m working on it in therapy okay!), I don’t tend to call myself a lesbian and instead use “gay” or “queer” as identifiers, but I don’t shy away from the L-title if other people refer to me that way. It probably has something to do with all that PESD (post-evangelical shame disorder).
I definitely don’t have everything figured out for myself in this department. Consuming more content on gender theory, specifically from lesbian authors, has been very helpful to reframe how I view sex, sexuality, desire, and lesbianism in general (if you have any recs send them my way). It’s also helpful to remember that I am not the only late bloomer in the history of queer people. Shocker.
See ya laters
O <3