Once a week, Daily Intel looks behind doors left slightly ajar. This week, the Newly Lesbian Lesbian, Who Is Loving It; 20, female, Brooklyn, research assistant, in a relationship.
3:45 p.m.: Meet up with girlfriend by Barnes & Noble and decide to go check out some sex books. Although we went to the same high school, we didn’t meet each other until my college roommate introduced us. I was in a relationship with a guy. We became good friends and I found myself having feelings for her. One day in her car we kissed, and that was that.
5 p.m.: In Brooklyn at a party. Encounter girlfriend’s friends and this girl who we plan to surprise with our current dating status because her reactions are usually ridiculous and we crave spectacle. Expectations fulfilled.
5:45 p.m.: Wrestle my girlfriend to the floor to get hold of a camera holding both incriminating and unattractive pics of me. Correctly assume that the camera owner doesn’t know how to spell my name, thus rendering Facebook tagging benign.
7 p.m.: Still at party, watching koala porn to interesting background music. This is what my generation has come to.
9 p.m.: Home to mom’s. Yes, still live with the family.
11:15 a.m.: Visit girlfriend. Tell her about a dream I had in which I discovered that a girl I’m seeing is a hermaphrodite. I rejected her, because I wanted pussy. I guess this confirms that I am a lesbian now.
12:50 p.m.: Cuddle in official “I do not want to do what I’m supposed to be doing” spot with girlfriend.
1:20 p.m.: Wander over to the university store to ask about discount on laptops. Realize that the laptop money could go into rent for an apartment in which I could have up to a month of privacy and fucking space.
6 p.m.: Receive various cheesy kisses from girlfriend. Both cheesy because we are under an umbrella while it’s pouring and because she just had cheese fries.
6:50 p.m.: Regents Week for high schoolers means my brother will be at home constantly through the week. Hate the NYC public school system. Such cunt-blockers.
8:31 p.m.: Receive IM from my male ex. I don’t understand how he can bitch about me “turning lez” yet still want to hang out. It’s one or the other, dude.
9:58 a.m.: Retell this morning’s dream in which I found myself being dumped because I didn’t pick up my phone for three weeks, and was devastated. Why do all my dreams involve splits?
10:25 a.m.: Girlfriend comments that I might be “conflicted between pussy and cock.” I think I’m just conflicted over other people’s privates, since I’m pretty damn sure I want hers.
10:50 a.m.: Girlfriend tells me her dream in which I say that cheating is not wrong as long as it’s in a different area code. I wonder why her dreams always get my personality dead wrong.
12:16 p.m.: Meet up with girlfriend to go to a Queens matinée screening of The Hangover. Find myself a bit apprehensive of homophobic attitudes in Jamaica.
2:25 p.m.: On the train with girlfriend heading back home, hoping to have some privacy.
2:30 p.m.: Receive a voice mail from Mom. Call home and find out my mom got bored and started redecorating my room even though I asked her not to. She tells me to find something else to do outside. Not surprised.
3:10 p.m.: Take the J to downtown Manhattan. Two kids get off the train before our stop, leaving my girlfriend and I alone in the car. I look out to the platform and see one of the kids giving me a thumbs-up. I have a tendency to yell “yea!” when these sort of things happen.
7:45 p.m.: Saying good-bye is usually a twenty-minute affair involving lots of kisses and hugs. Some guy yells that he “does not like that” and “will tell Bloomberg.” Well okay, you do that.
7:50 p.m.: Some kid comes by and asks us questions about the area. I ask if he’s lost and he replies that he wants an “interesting conversation.” An interesting conversation with some dykes. I get it.
10:11 p.m.: Horny and frustrated. Wonder to myself what it will be like when I finally have a place of my own. Wonder how many opportunities I will have missed by then that I can never have back. Consider masturbating. Too depressed.
10:58 p.m.: Get told by mom that I look like I’ve just been told that I have a couple of days left to live. Moms notice everything, including sexual frustration.
12:02 p.m.:Paying at the cash register in Veniero’s with girlfriend and we swear the waiter says something which sounds like “why you not like men?”
12:17 p.m.:Come to the conclusion that he did actually say that. We wonder together why we do not like men. To me it’s not so much about not liking men. I just like my girlfriend, and she just happens to be a girl.
1:40 p.m.: Escape from the rain by going to the bookstore. Check out some books on Iceland, where we have decided to move at some point in our lives. There are various scenarios leading to our migration, but the most popular involves exile, running away when the techies begin chipping human brains. We refuse to have our brains chipped.
7:02 p.m.: Come home and realize my period has arrived. Feel like banging my head over and over on a hard surface.
11:56 a.m.: E-mail my girlfriend about a dream I had last night where she was touching me and went under my pants to explore, even though I had my period. Find it a bit strange that I did not wake up flustered after this dream, but then again, my period does a great job at reducing my sex drive.
12:26 p.m.: Receive reply e-mail asking for further details on the dream. I have to think about it for a while, since I only rely on short-term memory.
12:33 p.m.: Reply that the dream involved me wearing a very revealing slitted skirt and that she told me that it was worth it and she couldn’t resist. Too bad the weather won’t allow for skirts with all this rain.
12:45 p.m.: Receive reply in which girlfriend informs me that she has been wanting to stick her hand down my pants. At least my dreams represent her well, as opposed to hers.
1:30 p.m.: Invite her to explore under my pants any day. Preferably soon. Find myself turned on, despite the period.
3:45 p.m.: Girlfriend arrives at my place. Mom and sibling are still at home. We go into my room and shut the door, which has no lock. We wonder who the hell makes a door without a functioning lock.
4:03 p.m.: Lie on my bed together. Try coming up with back-up stories in case someone walks in unexpectedly and finds us without clothes on, but can’t come up with anything and at this point I don’t care. Looking into her eyes makes me feel like Jell-O. It’s very corny, I know.
5 p.m.: Ideally we would be having sex now, but just being able to kiss my girlfriend without having a sixth sense on my surroundings and expecting someone to say something ridiculous is very appreciated.
5:10 p.m.: After an hour of risky making out and groping, I hear someone leaving.
5:12 p.m.: Get call from mom saying she has left to visit her aunt. Brother locked in his room being a teenager means we are relatively safe. YES!
6 p.m.: Supposed to leave to meet friends for dinner at six. Bell strikes six. Takes an hour to get to Manhattan from my place. Too dazed underneath girlfriend having fun with my boobs.
6:15 p.m.: Finally leave my place. I’m giggling like an idiot. I want more.
TOTALS: Zero acts of intercourse; three sex-related dreams; one hard-core hook-up session; at least six public make-out sessions; three instances of cunt-blocking; four public comments/gestures on our sexual preference.