My Box for a Box

Lately I’ve noticed a trend in humor articles. More often than not, the writer focuses on relationships, sex, or the problems between men and women that stem from both. While the subject of the opposite sex is continually being revisited, I can’t help but notice that there are no articles written to address my own relationship problem: how do I pick up a girl? Sure, countless women have written advice on handling the walk of shame, the booty call, the fuck buddy, and what not, but in each instance, the other party is always male. And while guys reflect on the right way to pick up a woman and then dump her just as quickly, this advice is worthless to the female reader.

Try as I might, I can’t seem to find the right technique for luring an unsuspecting bimbo into my bed for the night (excluding sheer luck and happenstance). You see, there are many contributing factors to my dilemma, yet I’m wondering if there aren’t many other ladies facing the same problems I do in the ways of seducing the same sex.

1. I don’t look like the typical lesbian.

Ever since I’ve been dressing myself, I’ve preferred dresses to dungarees. What can I say, I like my nails painted, my hair styled, and my heels to match my purse. If God told me that I could sleep with Angelina Jolie on the condition that I “dyked it up,” I’d have to turn the Big Man down. I don’t care how much pussy is on the line, there ain’t no damn way I’m gonna trade in my perfume and pearls for a sports jersey and a $15 dollar buzz cut. I used to think I was an anomaly in the gay community, until recently, I learned that I am what some call a “lipstick lesbian.” While this moniker seems appropriate, there’s just one little problem...

2. I’m not ACTUALLY a lesbian.

Guilty as charged, I’m bi bi bi. Now, I know what you’re thinking: Either I’m a lesbian who can’t accept being completely homosexual, or I’m just another college girl trying to get attention. I can confidently promise that neither accusation is true. I have absolutely no plans on giving up the opposite sex (or their equipment), nor am I an “above-the-waist” kind of lesbian. I don’t pussy foot around the pussy, so to speak. That isn’t to say that I haven’t had my share of fun with those bullshit, “bisexual” freshmen; it’s funny to watch the shame wash over them in the morning. However, while I personally have accepted my sexuality, there’s another roadblock in my way…

3. Most girls don’t know that I’m willing to go downtown.

Until recently, I had only dated guys, and while I was curious about girls, nothing came to fruition. Due to my fairly active straight sex-life, and my barren gay sex-life, most girls I was interested in had no idea that, while my past was full of men, I hoped for a future in their beds. My “straight” appearance didn’t help me much either, though I think that it’s a little unfair to judge a book by its cover. Just because I can properly blow dry my hair doesn’t mean I don’t want to give that little brunette a proper blowing too.

While I occasionally got lucky after a few glasses of wine and “deep talks” (guys, how do you put up with romance?), usually I was too shy to “out” myself. It wasn’t until a bunch of my friends and I went to a gay bar that I realized how large my dilemma truly is…

4. Most gay women are beasts.

After facing the (really) ugly truth about gay women, I realized that outing myself would create more problems than it would solve. For one, I knew that my platonic girl friends would think our friendship was tainted. Second, I realized that I would be putting myself on a whole new market to be sized up like meat and hounded by the ugliest wildebeests put on the earth. No offense ladies (or do you not prefer to be called that?), but you dykes are HORRIBLE. It’s like you decided to combine the looks of an overweight middle school boy with the demeanor of an undersexed caveman. I mean, MY GOD! After having a look at those trolls (even through beer goggles), I thought to myself, “Maybe I’ll just stick to guys a little while longer.”

So now you know the plight of a “shy-bi.” Now that I’ve analyzed my own personal quandary, I wonder if there are other closeted, lipstick lesbians in search of the same, who are also having trouble finding the right girl (for the night). I wondered if they felt defeated like I did, giving up on their dreams of a perfect pair of tits topped off with a pretty face. If so, ladies, don’t lose heart. Even though my gaydar broke a long time ago, we will find each other eventually, and after awkwardly finding out over drinks that we both munch carpet, we will fall in love for the night.

Just don’t expect me to call you afterward.