Being an Oversexualized Lesbian in a Horny Straight Man’s World

Yes, I am a lesbian. Yes, I am sexually and romantically attracted to women. And yes, I need the validation of straight men in order to exist.

It’s really not all as bad as it sounds! It simply requires me to constantly be hyper-aware of my appearance, actions, and overall lifestyle, ensuring that I am just gay enough to be pleasing to the men I encounter on a daily basis, especially the strangers. Easy!

First, I had to find a girlfriend that I could make out in public with so onlookers could easily achieve half chubs while simultaneously high-fiving their friends that haven’t changed their bed sheets in four months and consider their faded polo shirts from middle school to be “formal attire”.

Now I must admit, this was initially a tough one to maneuver. I had to find a girl that was either as or more femme than I am. Straight men don’t like butch women.

Unless she gives them a boner.

Then maybe.

If she’s a 10.

I learned this fact from hours of extensive research. Potentially the most educational source I encountered was brazzers dot com slash lesbian. Long fake nails. Red lipstick. Bright blue eyeshadow that should have been left in 2007. Oh, and lots of scissoring. Got it.

I downloaded Tinder, got to swiping with my freshly manicured three inch stiletto nails, thanks to the advice from my new findings, and set out on the hunt to find myself a woman.

I ended up matching with one beautiful girl. Long blonde hair, attractive symmetrical face, could probably pull off a cheap lace lingerie set from the shady sex shop down the street. Perfect. We conversed for a few messages about how badly we wish we could fuck men, but, tragically, we’re doomed to a life of lesbianism, then we planned our first date.

Meeting for drinks at a sports bar was the perfect idea. We would spend a few minutes loudly chatting about our sopping vaginas to ensure the balding 27 year olds wearing their college fraternity pledge shirts would notice us.

Then we would go in for the kill: simultaneously wiggling our tongues around in each other’s mouths for exactly 19 minutes while these respectable young men received a (partially) free dinner and a show.

And, of course, we would ask for feedback afterwards to ensure their viewing experience was the most pleasurable possible.

More titty grabbing? Got it. Get rid of the “dyke flannels and Jesus sandals”? Your concerns have been noted, sir. We will be sure to incorporate your comments into our next session. Please rate us on Yelp.

I’m not going to lie, sometimes it is difficult to remember that every thought we have and every action we take must somehow revolve around men.

At my weakest point, I contemplated getting a classic lesbian haircut. Short, practical, screams “eating pussy is my passion”.

Thank God a random man on the internet advised me against it before it was too late to reverse that life altering decision. He warned me that not as many of his kind would find me attractive anymore. I would no longer be an object of their gaze. I shuddered at the thought.

I ended up settling on the elusive “sexuality is a spectrum, find out where I land” haircut. Just long enough to be considered conventionally attractive, but just short enough for any man to see me with a woman and immediately sexualize our existence.

Just where I like it.