Finally, the ride would slam to an end, and it’d be time to get off. Only I wouldn’t. I’d stay strapped into my seat, ready to go again
BY THE CHEEKY CHARMER, IMAGE BY RAY RODRIGUEZ VIA PEXELS
Is it just me or do lesbian relationships leave you feeling like you’re on some kind of sapphic rollercoaster? With previous girlfriends, it’s like I’ve rocked up at “Lesbo Land – the theme park” (I’m trademarking that), excited for the ride* of my life, only to discover I’m strapped into the worlds ricketiest rollercoaster and plummeting towards death (or heartbreak).
*20 points for anyone playing “spot the euphemism”.
Things were fine while I was waiting in line for hours (years) for the thrill (woman) of my dreams. I’d just about give up hope when the sexiest, shiniest, most exciting rollercoaster (girlfriend) would pull in and I’d be buckling up.
But, before taking breath, I’d be accelerating at 100 miles per hour towards “committed relationship status”. All would be going well, the euphoria (sex hormones) sending me higher and higher until suddenly I’d reach the peak, only to be faced with the inevitable drop.
And then I’d be free falling, screaming and clawing at the air like a skydiver without a parachute.
Just as I’d think, “this is it, it’s all over,” the ride would take me back up again. I’d be enjoying myself and then we’d hit a torturous half pipe of twists and turns that left me confused and wishing I hadn’t eaten that (vegan) cheeseburger for lunch.
It would continue like this for some time, the up and down, the twists and turns, finally culminating in a loop the loop where I wouldn’t be sure I was having fun or putting myself through some kind of masochistic punishment. Finally, the ride would slam to an end, and it’d be time to get off. Only I wouldn’t. I’d stay strapped into my seat, ready to go again.
And that’s when I’d know I’d ridden the lesbian express. Where heavy doses of sex, drama and endless conversations about “feelings” lurk at every turn. The straight folks would look on in confusion at why anyone would take such a fast, tumultuous ride. They generally stick to the “teacup ride” of relationships, where you go round sedately, taking things at a sensible pace, chatting about the weather**.
**I don’t know if they chat about the weather.
Not lesbians. We’re the adrenaline junkies of relationships. Sure, they make us sick and leave us questioning our life choices, but we still come back for more.
Take me and Rose.
I thought we were on the “It’s a small world” Disney ride of relationships. You know, all cute and cuddly. Admittedly it was the sexed-up version on speed. A madman (me) kept jumping into the driver’s seat and screaming because they wanted to go faster. But it was the most beautiful ride I’d ever been on. It was calm, peaceful and easy. And ridiculously exciting. I genuinely thought I’d found “the one”. And then, before either of us knew what was happening, we were no longer navigating a nice sedate riverboat ride but hurtling down splash mountain.
We broke up on impact.
But then the tide changed and we talked. We figured we don’t want to queue for the same old relationship rides we’ve taken before. Sure, we want something exciting but without the drama. We don’t need the stomach-churning drops disguised as thrills. We want to enjoy the views rather than racing by them. To find the play within the twists and turns, the rises and the falls. We want to travel beyond the limits of the theme park.
But… if we do revisit the theme park anytime soon I wouldn’t mind tackling “Big Thunder Mountain” (and yes, that’s a reference to my recent packing adventures🍆).
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