truth: i excel in the role as girlfriend to another woman. i adore women. i lavish a girlfriend with focused attention and she feels valued and desired. i kiss her where she’ll melt. i kiss her til she’s breathless. i use firm gentle strokes to rub her shoulders, her neck, the length of her back, her legs, her feet, her arms, her hands, her chest and breasts, her abs and across her hips, and then down deeper into the mystery of her where she opens to me. i listen deeply and she feels heard and understood. i listen closely to hear her whisper the things she’s afraid to say out loud, the things she has never said to anyone before. i know when to reach for her and how tightly to hold her and when to let go and when to step back with space between us because she wants to stand on her own. i cook what she likes. i brush her hair and smooth her furrowed brow and stroke her arm to soothe her. i hold her arm as we walk. i choose wine i know she’ll like. i order her cocktail correctly and guide her home before she has one too many. i surprise her with flowers at work and fancy wrapped jewels tucked into her purse and slip extra spending money into her jacket pocket and stash love letters in her lingerie drawer. i know what kind of perfume smells best on her that she’s never heard of and i know where to buy it. i swoop her away for long weekends, to the caribbean in the winter, to paris in the springtime, to alaska in the summer, and to see the fall colors in autumn. i bring her coffee in the morning. i sing lullabies to her at night. i excel as a woman’s girlfriend.
confession: i love men. i love male company. i love conversing with men. i love asking men questions and absorbing their answers. i love debating with men. i love dancing with men. i love drinking tequila or whiskey with men. i love flirting with men. i know how to strip, talk dirty, suck, fuck, and make love to a man, but i don’t know how to be a man’s girlfriend. i’ve tried. i’ve failed. i’ve tried again. and failed again. and tried and tried and tried. and finally, after the last time, i quit trying, because the reasons a man is attracted to me become the same things he wants to change about me as soon as he uses a masculine possessive pronoun to define me. he likes me, maybe even loves me, he wants me to be his, and then he wants me to become something i’m not.
i’m currently loving a man who encourages me to love him as well as i can, better than i’ve loved a man before, more playfully and more comfortably than i’ve loved in the past. eventually he’ll want a girlfriend, someone who is different from me, someone who can do and be whatever it is that i can’t and i’m not, and that impending loss scares me. almost scares me enough to ruin what we’ve got. almost scares me enough to run away from having exactly what i want with him right now. almost scares me enough. but not quite. i’m braver than i used to be. i’m brave enough to love again, to love more, to love better, to keep loving and growing and healing and playing and laughing and crying and telling the truth and trusting and listening and honor the gifts i’m giving and celebrate the gifts i’m receiving.
please be brave in your loving. let yourself love who you love while you have this moment with this one. yes, he’ll leave you. she’ll dump you. or you’ll walk away. but for this moment, while this one shines before you, be brave enough to love who you love. be brave enough to receive the love you are given, even if this relationship won’t last, even though your heart will rip and tear and swell and bleed when the relationship ends, be brave. love bravely. be bravely loved.