3 Lessons I Learned Doing A 1-Year Experiment Being A Lesbian

I decided to be a lesbian this year for three simple reasons:

  1. It seemed like a perfectly “2017ish” thing to do;
  2. Trump is my President so clearly anything is possible;

3. I quite liked the idea of having someone else handle my dry cleaning.

It is with this inspiration that I write you, gentlemen, so that you may learn a few things for your lady at home. Because while I learned that you cannot choose who you love (and failed miserably at this experiment), there were a few valuable lessons learned.

1. Texting.

Women text when they want attention. The response is simple: text her back. Attention plea met with attention received is a happiness quid pro quo. Or, it could be called standard communication.

And yet it is far more complex with the male species.

I should write a separate article just on texting men. Women ask me about it, literally daily. Growing up with three brothers helps. Dating a loser recently really helped.

Men will text you once they remember you exist and want something. That’s the basics.

The usual trigger is you not giving them attention for long enough that they do in fact, remember you exist.

A lady will receive such a text to serve as a notification that Said Dude is continuing forward on his journey toward one day touching her boobs.

Do not text him back immediately, however, or you’re annoying, desperate, and well, a real person. Instead, pretend as if your phone has mysteriously fallen from directly in front of your face — where both parties know it is all day long.

Be sure to respond with something cute, that has absolutely nothing to do with anything. And if you ever do need attention from him, well too fucking bad for you.

This nonsense is a huge turn-off to every potential boob you may touch one day, by the way, Fellas.

2. Shared goals.

A female and man enter the bedroom like two competing sports teams: each wanting to win, but the chances of a mutual win are slim to none. In fact, they may not even be playing the same game. It becomes a power play; convincing a man to let the woman win. Even then, the techniques are about those moves he’s already mastered. Most likely vintage college moves from some rookie girlfriend who also never dated women and has no clue what to do.

In the best of scenarios, your guy will give in. If this is the case, it is because you’ve forced him out of all other options. That’s the key motivator: when easier options have been exhausted, and yours remains, yes you will get it.

I believe this is how all straight couples are fostered; through a rigorous onboarding process so arduous that neither would like to repeat it again. Or you just lie to each other and engage in secular behaviors until marriage ensues and then one of you eventually dies.

But women enter the bedroom with one common interest at heart: to please the other person.

Write that down.

3. Size.

Is not the least bit a determining factor of one’s ego-system. Oh, and women don’t actually care at all. Carry on.

4. Gifts.

Women view acts of kindness for one another as a prerequisite to a relationship. One woman wrote me a poem about how I’m a butterfly. Sounds extremely creepy, given that butterflies and I are obviously not at all related, but at the time it was flattering.

There may be five languages in love, but women are all about the acts of kindness all the time.

The man’s version of this: picking up the check after dinner.

5. Concluding remarks.

I failed.

For the same reason as most men. Because people without real jobs are boring.

Having been only attracted to that career-focused, driven type of lady, I decided it much more expedient to swim in my physically preferable pool.

I also discovered my building’s dry cleaning service.

However, I did get a few lessons for you to take home to your little care-taking, dry-cleaning butterfly today. She will appreciate you for it. And should you meet her emotional, physical and cognitive needs, she might not even leave you for another woman some day. The world is a crazy one; you never know. Get to it.