Sleepover: First Time Lesbian Short Story

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The night before I left on the cruise, two of my best friends got married. Watching one of my friend’s dads talking at the wedding dinner about how much he loved his daughter and her new wife, I teared up a little and said something to my partner about it: “This is actually pretty nice, huh?” But they wrinkled their nose at me. They’re not a fan of weddings — the pomp and circumstance, the big, grand displays of public affection. Our 16-year-old daughter came out as bi. We’re totally supportive of this, but are unsure how to handle sleepovers. Do we continue to allow them with girls but not boys because that seems right even though it makes no logical sense? Expand the rules to include boys, because what difference does it make? Ban them altogether and win the Meanest Parents award? Help!

Mother and daughter playing with each other in the living room

That night, Matie and Jamie convinced me (against my natural inclination to avoid live entertainment) to go to the evening’s scheduled attraction, a comedy set by Elvira Kurt. Before Elvira performed we were welcomed by Tisha, Olivia’s VP and our cruise director, who greeted the “ladies of Olivia” and announced a few of the events coming up over the next few days, including a meetup for the “Older, Wiser Lesbians,” or “OWLs.” (“Date me, OWLs!” Matie whisper-yelled next to me.) It’s important not to make assumptions about anyone’s sexual orientation or gender identity based on biological assumptions or outdated stereotypes, Wells said. As an older counselor and as an administrator I would eventually fall in love at camp with other counselors three more times to varying degrees of length and success. Always, the moment of mutual realization of interest, connection, or falling occurred during an earnestly camp-only activity -- while teaching a session on lantern maintenance during staff week, while boning up on my swimming with a waterfront director in a blue Speedo, wielding a whistle, and a ring of keys tied to a small flotation device that she flipped around on the end of a lanyard, or while learning group dances we would later share with the kids. I don't necessarily want to "blame it on the Bossa Nova," but if the dance fits... I’m loose and light and a little sleepy from my second Corona and a blossoming sunburn. Sure, I say, why not, thinking all the while: If any other 27-year-old lesbians could use a self-esteem boost, all they need to do, clearly, is get themselves on an Olivia cruise.Remember, just because your daughter is attracted to girls, it does not mean she’s attracted to the girls she’s having a sleepover with,” Glashow said.

All-Girls Summer Camp Helped Me Become the Lesbian I How My All-Girls Summer Camp Helped Me Become the Lesbian I

Full disclosure: Our kids have always had sleepovers with both boys and girls since they’ve always been friends with both. I don’t imagine that they’re suddenly going to turn from Doritos and pingpong to cunnilingus, but if they did? Then I would trust that’s what the kids were ready for, regardless of anybody’s gender.For example, are you worried that your daughter won’t be able to tell the difference between friendship feelings and sexual feelings? Between a carpeted rumpus room and a gay bar? That she will, as a result, hit on all her guests while they’re painting each other’s toenails or playing Monopoly? I know you’re not, but that’s the homophobic stereotype — the same one that kept gay people out of the military for so long — that you’d just be minding your own business and before you know it, some gay somebody would be snaking a hand into your straight cargo shorts. (Dream on, hetero narcissists.) I actively choose to identify as a lesbian and a dyke, as well as a queer. I have found love and community unlike anything else I’ve ever known in what still exists of lesbian culture, despite all external (and, TERF-wise, internal) attempts to exterminate it: the art, the literature, the physical spaces. Plus, most importantly (and most obviously), the word “lesbian” quite literally describes what I am: a woman who loves women in both a feminist way and a super-gay way. It sounds shallow to imply that, in the beginning, I fell for her simply because of her style, her stuff. But what attracted me was the care and attention to detail she demonstrated via a lifetime’s accumulation and curation of these things. Together they made up the way she wanted to be seen in the public eye, the way she wanted to move through the world. She was not a boy but a full-grown butch who, at 53, was confident in who she was and what she wanted.