Bitches be stealin’ my clothes!

I like for the ladies to be built pretty much like I am, about my height, about my frame. I also like when girls are into fashion and style. Put these two things together and you wind up with the opportunity to double your wardrobe just by dating! Sounds great, right? Lesbian!

How can this possibly be a negative?

Because every single person who I have ever lent an item of clothing to, has looked better in that that item of clothing than I did!!! Every single time! This is okay if the person I’ve lent something to is going out with a group that I’m not a part of, but if they go out with people I know, then I can never wear that item with those people again! Sounds paranoid? Well fuck you.

The problem of course, is boobs. So long as the item fits, boobs make everything better: sweaters, blazers, blouses, even skirts and pants somehow. And everybody I know has bigger boobs than I do, which means they instantly look better in everything of mine that fits them. I could of course simply refrain from being with women who have bigger boobs than me, except, well, that sounds really depressing.

The Princess will have to do for me – his boobs may be bigger than mine, but he never wears my clothes. At least not in public.

Who would kill the spiders? There’s a time and place to be a dainty little girl, and that time is when there’s a spider in the house. Would the house just fill up with crawly things? Would we eventually just have to move? I’m not talking about flies or ants, I’m not an invalid, I can take care of those. I mean the bugs with all the legs that scramble across the floor faster than I can panic. Those are meant for boys to deal with.

Would that be considered as one of the household chores that get divvied up? I’ll take out the garbage, and you’ll kill all the bugs. I’ll do the laundry, you’re in charge of managing the crawly situation. Maybe a coin toss? Rock paper scissors? I’m willing to get close enough to cover them with bowls and cups, and I suppose the vacuum is a good disposal method. Except eventually someone has to change the vacuum bag, which by the time it needs changing could be teeming with maybe not so dead bugs. Teeming!

They may not have boobs, but boys kill bugs.

Sometimes boys have boobs.

It’s better when they don’t.

The crying.

I don’t know how lesbian couples get through this. Girls – women – ladies – FEMALES cry. We just do. It isn’t about weakness or sensitivity, or manipulation (most of the time). It’s just how we’re wired to deal with extreme emotion. When the Princess and I argue, there are enough tears involved that the threshold point is already near. Swap the Princess out with a woman and the crying limit is breached far too early into the argument for the hidden, underlying issues to be addressed, much less resolved.

When the Princess and I clash, it’s usually a bit into the argument that we figure out what we’re really upset about, and this tends to be where my tears show up. The Princess usually doesn’t get weepy until we’re wrapping up the resolution. If he started crying when I did, the whole thing would get stupid far too soon to be useful and we’d have to delay and reschedule the end game. Totally inefficient. It would drive me nuts.

Unless I’m just not meeting the right lesbians, it doesn’t seem like they cry any less than hetero women. How do they get anything done in a relationship? Write each other letters? Argue via email? Texting?

“I said I was a lesbian, Mom, not a thespian. You can stop crying.”