The Difference

Every secret of a writer’s soul, every experience of his life, every quality of his mind is written large in his works.

Virgina Woolf

The Difference

One of the things which I have discovered during my journey is that sex is ummm, well, different.

Men, in my experience, no matter their intents and purposes, position their women partners for sex. It has always left me feeling as if I have lost or left or had taken a piece of myself afterwards. Always an undefined overwhelming feeling of sadness and loss. I feel less. I think back over my het history, which has been busier than some and I wonder to myself how there is anything left of me with all the pieces left behind with each futile act of love-making there has been. I always wondered why it felt so bad. I don’t wonder though, why I kept going. I know why. I always thought it was just me. That I was one of these women who just didn’t like it. That the advice to “Lie back and think of England” although told to someone else years before seemed meant for me as well.

In contrast to my rich het history, I can count on one very small finger my experience with women. But even still it was such a dramatic difference that I feel confident enough to say with certainty that it wasn’t just me all along. While men position their partners, women dance together. It has a very equal, liquid rhythm. Overwhelming me with connection that I never knew existed. It never seems to have a beginning nor does it end suddenly. I remember waiting for the emptiness that never came, I remember looking at myself in the mirror surprised I was all there. Complete.

I have tried to explain this to my straight friends. I have tried to come up with all sorts of high-minded, complicated reasons for it to satisfy even the most educated among them. But the truth isn’t complicated or hard to explain. The truth is there is a difference and the difference exists because I am a lesbian.



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