Nagging Attractions and the Strategies of Lesbianism Convention (SLC)

by Lindsay Miller

Queer Chick, I would appreciate some sage advice. Or at least a moment of your thyme.

I have been in a relationship with a wonderful woman for the past six years. She’s a few years older than me, and while I’m not her first girlfriend, she’s mine. I’m also what you’d call a gold star, despite classifying myself as bisexual (we both do. In Kinsean terms, I’m about a 2–3, she’s about a 4–5). I got into this relationship when I was just out of my teens, in my final year of college. We moved in together relatively quickly (I know, cliché) and things got serious almost immediately.

We have a lot in common, can talk easily and at length about almost everything, we laugh together, support each other, and have both become part of each other’s families. It’s a pretty darn solid relationship. The problem here lies in the bedroom. We have a great sex life for the most part, however more and more I have found myself fantasizing about people other than my girlfriend when she’s fucking me. “So what?” I hear you say, “Everyone fantasizes” — the thing is, they’re fantasies about men, oftentimes two men together. And sometimes I can’t even climax without thinking about it. Having never had the experience of being with a man before getting into this relationship, I have become increasingly heterocurious, wishing I could turn back time and fuck a few good men (maybe not Tom Cruise though) so I at least knew what it was like, and wouldn’t be driven crazy by thoughts of it. It’s not just the D, either (though that is certainly a factor), as I know I could take the sextoy route to explore that in a way. It’s being with a man, the whole man (and nothing but the man? So help me god).

I don’t want to cheat on my girlfriend, nor do I want to break her heart by leaving her to satisfy some morbid curiosity, and I know for sure the open relationship/threesome route is a no-go, certainly not this far along in our monogamy. I love this woman, but as things are progressing further and further toward talk of marriage and babies and whatnot, I know I could not in good conscience agree to be with her for the rest of my life unless I knew that’s what my heart/vagina really wanted. I can’t talk to my friends about this, because I’m afraid if I do they won’t support me in this relationship anymore, thinking I’ll never be truly happy. I don’t know how to talk to my girlfriend about it without crushing her and risking her feeling inadequate/lacking for the rest of our life together.

As y’all may already know, people in monogamous relationships who have just realized they’re bisexual is the largest single category of Folks Who Send Me Emails. And while I have occasionally been snarky about it, I do genuinely understand that this is a really fucking challenging position in which to find yourself (make a Kama Sutra joke and just see how fast I will smack you down). Here is this person who you love more than anything, this person with whom you want to wake up and pay the cable bill and make spaghetti and go bowling for the entire rest of your life, and all of a sudden this heretofore-unsuspected side of your libido rears its ugly head, and suddenly you’re wondering whether your One and Only can really give you everything you need. That is brutal, and scary. And I don’t want to minimize its impact for anyone currently struggling with it.

But I also want to say, since so many people seem to be dealing with this lately (perhaps because we’re all more aware of and comfortable with bisexuality than our counterparts 25 or even ten years ago), that I think when you get right down to the secret squishy heart of this issue, it is actually terribly simple. You have to decide whether, by staying with your lover, you’re gaining more than you’re giving up.

You, lovely Letter Writer (may I call you Lettie?), are coming at this from a slightly different angle than I normally hear about; you are already bi-identified, instead of a nominally straight chick who is suddenly lusting after ladies. That is going to potentially make this a teeny tiny bit easier for you to navigate, because you won’t have to deal with quite so much “holy shit what will people think when they find out?” Still, the basic issue is the same. You don’t have to re-label and reorganize your sexual identity, but you have to make some big, potentially gut-wrenching decisions.

First of all, I want to put your hot boy-on-boy brain-porn off to one side while we talk about this, because it’s not really the salient point here. You’re right that everyone fantasizes, and some people can only (ever!) climax when they’re focusing on their favorite fantasy scenario, but the Thing that turns you on the most when you’re allllllllmost there is not necessarily the Thing you actually want in real life. Some dykes think about dudes, some gay guys think about ladies, some totally vanilla folks think about getting smacked with a riding crop, and one chick in North Dakota thinks about Ronald McDonald for reasons she still hasn’t been able to explain to herself. It could be relevant, if you’re wishing you were in the middle of a sweaty dude-sandwich instead of in bed with your girlfriend, but on its own it doesn’t tell us much.

What’s more important is that you’re thinking about dudes even when you’re not in the zone, and it’s causing you to question whether you want to marry your lady. So this is where I suggest, as I always do, that what you really have to ponder is not “how badly do I want to get some wang?” but “how committed am I to my partner?” Long-term monogamy is not for the faint of heart, but for the right person, you should be able to make the sacrifice gladly — I don’t mean easily, I mean with joy even when it’s difficult. Look, Lettie, real talk: sometimes I wish I had slutted it up a little more before I got together with my fiancee. Sometimes I regret my lack of crazy random hook-up stories, just like you regret the lack of penis in your past. But I know that the person I’m with now is the person I want to be with for the rest of my life, and that is worth giving up on every other possibility to focus on this one, this one that is right.

There is this terrifying and hurtful myth that, when you meet the perfect partner, The One, your super special soulmate who likes to cook your favorite food and can find your G-spot blindfolded, you will immediately and forever stop wanting to have sex with other people. This is not even remotely true, but it causes an insane number of problems by convincing you that the moment you get an itch in your panties for somebody new, your relationship is doomed. In reality, the only thing that dooms your relationship is when you decide that she’s not the one for you — that you don’t love her enough to make all the rest of it, from not fucking boys to picking up her dirty socks when she leaves them on the floor, worthwhile. Being bisexual, though it adds another dimension to the wanting-to-have-sex-with-other-people dilemma, does not — or at least should not — make much of a difference in the outcome.

So this is the part where you have to make the tough choice, and by now you’ve probably noticed that I have not said one single goddamn thing that will help you with that process, because there’s really nothing I can say. Everything hinges on the part that I don’t know and can’t tell you, which is: do you want to be with this woman forever? And are you willing to do what it takes to make that happen?

Just so we’re clear, it’s okay if the answer is “no.” I’m not saying that you are a bad or weak person if you decide that you need to pack up your things. I won’t be mad if it turns out that she’s not the one for you, or you’re not the one for her, or you’re both too young to be making lifelong relationship choices, or whatever. Choosing the path that will make you happiest, and sticking to it even when it means hurting someone you care about, because you know it’s better for you both in the long run, requires tremendous self-honesty as well as ovaries of steel. If that’s what you have to do, I’m sorry, and my heart is with you. Things will get easier from here, and you’re going to do fine.

But if you decide to stay with your lover — if you throw yourself into this relationship with your whole heart/vagina and stick to it for the long haul — then perhaps I can offer you some words of wisdom that will help you through the rough patches: seriously, dudes are not all that great.

I have a sister-in-law (my husband’s brother’s wife) who I love to pieces. She is the sister I never had. We are two soldiers in the neverending fight against our mother-in-law. Everything is love, happiness, sunshine, except … her mother is a lesbian who lives with her long-term girlfriend. Still, you ask, where is the problem?

SIL has mentioned in passing a couple times that she believes this “sets a bad example” for my niece and nephew, because, you know, homosexuality is “bad.” Her husband agrees. In these few instances, I have felt deeply uncomfortable with her comments, especially when she says these things in front of her children (one of whom is in high school, so we’re not dealing with babies here). Despite my disapproval, I think her relationship with her mother is none of my damn business, right? She has not asked me for advice or come to me with concerns. She seems to think this is common sense and that I must agree with her.

Also, my brother-in-law is somewhat volatile and is easily offended or angered. I would hate to cause a rift between my husband (totally pro-LGBTQ, by the way) and his considerably more conservative brother on behalf of a woman I’ve never met. (If, for example, one of my future kids turned out to be LGBTQ of any sort, I’d cut a bitch who dared say that kind of thing at a family gathering. Though I’m sure that’s easy for me to say from this safe, privileged, hypothetical distance. Does that make me a hypocrite?)

Her kids do spend time with SIL’s mother, but I know it’s with the understanding that her “lifestyle” is “bad.” I am tempted to pull my niece aside and tell her that there is nothing wrong with homosexuality, but again, is that totally inappropriate and not at all my place? Is it inappropriate to NOT say anything? She’s a smart kid, but I don’t want to put her in an awkward position. Do I wait until she’s an adult? Do I continue to keep my mouth shut? Do I say something just to my SIL? Do I passive-aggressively mention every gay or lesbian friend I have at any opportunity to imply that I’m not on board the Anti-Gay Express? I am naturally non-confrontational, so the prospect of a big family argument scares the bejeezus out of me.

Help me, a Queer Chick! What is the right thing to do?

Ugh, there is such a huge part of me that wants to be like “stop being friends with your awful homophobic sister-in-law.” It’s really weird to me when people talk about how such-and-such person is great and wonderful and sweet and awesome and oh there’s just this tiny problem where they haven’t even met me but they already hate me. I don’t want to hear about how she makes the best vegan cupcakes and gets all your most obscure Buffy references; if she hates the gays, then she is Not Cool and should not be invited to your birthday party.

Okay, but I recognize that I’m being unreasonable. People are flawed and messed up, and having one terrible character trait does not necessarily cancel out all the virtues that make you enjoy someone’s company. I myself probably have at least one friend who is some kind of intensely crazy bigot in a way that I don’t even know about because it’s never come up. If you’re not the target of the irrational disgust, it can be awfully easy to overlook for the sake of preserving your friendship. Plus, even if you did tell her to take her homophobia and shove it, she’d still be married to your husband’s brother, so it’s not like you could avoid her forever. And it’s probably better for your niece and nephew if their parents remain on speaking terms with their awesome, queer-friendly aunt and uncle. ESPECIALLY if one of them turns out to be queer, because that shit is going to be rough, but even if they’re straight it would be nice for them to have at least one familial influence who is not a great big juicebox.

So what’s a non-confrontational chick to do? Well, no matter how much you love your sister-in-law and fear conflict, I think you are doing yourself and your niece and nephew (as well as your hypothetical future queer offspring) a disservice if you let her slide completely. I’m not saying you should throw your iced coffee in her face the next time she makes a disparaging comment about her mother (although you totally can, I’m not gonna judge), but you need to let her know that on this issue, she does not have a sympathetic ear from you.

When she mentions her mother in a way that makes it clear she disapproves of lesbians en masse, I want you to remain perfectly calm and say, in the most neutral tone of voice you possess, “I don’t know about that. My friend Julie is gay, and she’s awesome.” (Feel free to name an actual person, if you do not have a gay friend named Julie.) Then — this is key — change the subject immediately. You are not trying to start a fight; you are not trying to win her over; you are simply letting her know, politely but firmly, where you stand. If she tries to pursue the subject, just laugh it off — “I don’t feel like arguing on such a nice day! Want to take the kids to the park?”

You may have to do this more than once before it sinks in, but I doubt you’ll have to do it more than two or three times. Again, since your priority is maintaining a positive relationship with your sister-in-law, you have to resist the urge to press the point, to tell her about all the awesome queers in your life, to make a compelling case for human rights and social justice and RuPaul and fisting. I guarantee you that if her own mother couldn’t bring her around, you’re not gonna be able to do it either, and the more you try the more you’ll damage your friendship. All you can do is continue to make it clear that you love her, you respect her, but on this topic you’ll have to agree to disagree.

I am a 27-year-old queer lady. My best friend is an ex-girlfriend. We dated for several years and were engaged at one point. After the initial post-breakup awkwardness, we remained friends. We live in separate states but email near-daily and visit one another a couple times a year. We’ve each dated since the breakup and don’t have any residual feelings for each other. Our relationship is essentially the same as any other best friend pair, except that we used to date. I never really thought this was weirder than anything else humans do, but lately I’ve heard people say some things (including in a former column of yours!) that make me wonder if I missed the consensus statement issued by the Strategies of Lesbianism Convention wherein it was decided that girls who are friends with ex-girlfriends are automatically off-limits creepers?

Do I have to choose between my best friend and any hope of a successful future love life? Is it a major turn-off to learn that a woman is best friends with someone she used to bone? Is there a way I need to be telling people about this that makes me sound less creepy? Is it inappropriate that I address holiday cards, etc. to my friend and her girlfriend? Please help me, A Queer Chick!

As much as it’s clear to me that you folks would like one, there is no one-size-fits-all strategy for dealing with The Dreaded Ex-Turned-Bestie. Sometimes those friendships are creepy and codependent; sometimes they are positive and nurturing; and only you (or the women you date) can say for sure. If your friend is not constantly reminiscing about your relationship and bringing up how much she misses you — if you’re upward of 90% confident that you two have no lingering sexual tension — then it’s probably fine, rock on with your sweet selves.

The Ex-Turned-Bestie is really only a problem if it’s interfering with your current relationships, and it sounds like you’ve both been getting laid left and right since your breakup, so I don’t see why you’d be worrying about this. If a future girlfriend ever does express concerns, you’ll have to figure out for yourself whether it’s really a problem or whether she’s just above-average insecure, and proceed accordingly. For the time being, however, why fix something that’s not broken (or a domesticated animal which you want to prevent from reproducing)? I feel like you mostly wrote to me because you wanted an affirmation, which I am more than happy to provide (to anyone! Holler atcha girl if you need to be reminded that you are a beautiful special snowflake!), but yeah, you don’t really have much of a problem here. Your friendship is 100% Queer Chick approved — go forth and rejoice!

Previously: Pronouns, Unexpected Crushes, and the “Repressed Lesbian” Cliché.

Lindsay Miller knows everything (and is now on Twitter!). Do you have a question for A Queer Chick? (300-word max, please.)

Photo by Anna Sedneva, via Shutterstock