It’s the end of March. I’m staring at snow falling outside the window. All month, I’ve been sitting on the sofa under a blanket on Sunday nights watching the L Word –all four showings! I’m so tired of the gray skies and cold days! I’m just longing for sun and meeting up with my hot, lesbian friends with smoky eyes at The Planet for smoothies and lattes. So I booked a flight to LA to spend a weekend with my best friend who just moved into a 2 bedroom apartment in West Hollywood-- the lipstick lesbian capitol of the US. I get my own room to escape to---what more could a single-and-looking girl ask for?
I was out to dinner last night celebrating a friend’s 30th birthday (at wonderful Tsuki’s on Fullerton—thumbs up). It’s like birthday season (Summer is apparently a great time for parents, what else do you do in the heat!). Along with oodles of friends’ and families’ birthdays, my birthday is around the corner. I’m getting deeper into my thirties and I swear everyday I can hear my eggs drying up one by one. It’s tragically depressing.
Of course, inevitably over dinner, the topic that comes up is our libidos changing and hitting our sexual peak in our thirties. I guess I forgot but it may be true, I was getting tons of action when I turned 30. What a great couple of years I had there….until it all came to a crashing halt. Girl, it’s as if I all of a sudden discovered morals. I got this crazy notion when I started seriously contemplating motherhood. I didn’t want to see my child and think in the back of my mind, “that kid’s mom was a Trollop”. So I got conservative. Now I consider whether people are “number worthy”. Morals are boring…Billy Joel was right, sinners are much more fun.
The next day because of the conversation, the impending additional year, the shriveling eggs, all of that rolling through my mind and suddenly in the middle of my regional sales meeting I’m drifting into a most exhilarating fantasy better than anything on Showtime. As I stare straight into my Director’s eyes, I’ve got a hot chick up against a wall in my kitchen. As he’s going over numbers, we moved onto the island. On my bed and the clothes are flying, “sell more”. Must be Spring behind the gray clouds, and my libido thawing. Damn, I hope I didn’t leave my telepathy on.
My brain’s getting dodgy. Happens every year at exactly this time. When our winter is dragging on so much longer than it needs to. Tearing away at my patience and my sanity. Tick tock, tick tock. Or are those my eggs again?
What did that groundhog say again? Six weeks more until all the lesbians are out? I certainly hope so. Why women hibernate, I’ll never understand. Seriously, I went up to Girlstown to sit in a café last week and lesbo-shop, and I saw no one but my young friend sitting across from me. That poor child, it took her two long arduous hours to navigate through traffic from the southside all the way up to Andersonville just to sit with me in hopes of seeing the “less than fair” gay side (no slam against us girls but I live in Boystown, and the guys take it to a whole other level).
Where are you women ! Wherefore art thou, women !?!
No for real, the numbers are skewed here, women who love women are underrepresented in this town and there should be an activist group on top of that. I find more straight-girls-who-have-gay-guy-friends-who-occasionally-kiss-a-girl hanging out in our gay mecca. It’s cause for concern. We women should band together and speak up. Wherever you are hiding, let me see you, let me hear you. For all single and something (you fill in the blanks, its like adlibs) girls lost in Chicago, “let’s come together, right now!” You don’t have to wait for Chix Mix Parties !
If I stare at water in a pot does it boil faster? Morals be damned, I want to be the next victim on Shane’s list. Man, that L Word holiday in gay, glam WeHo cannot come fast enough!
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