That one time I had lesbian sex, when I wanted soup instead

So one day, I realised that my passing girl-crushes on women were more than simple straight-girl curiosity. I totally was into chicks, I guess. This sapphic epiphany resulted in a two-year expedition into the land of Lesbos, where I figured out my sexuality and also lost my girl-ginity.

For the record, virginity is not if you’ve ever had good ol’ heterosexual lovin’ with a dude, but rather you doing something for the first time ever – up yours, patriarchy! So anyways, because I wanted to get sexy with a lady, I turned to my lesbros, who suggested that I sign myself up for some online dating. This was apparently the way to meet gay ladies, and also worked in my favour, as I had absolutely no gaydar and the flirting skills of a male protagonist from a Judd Apatow movie.

I log onto OkCupid and start searching for women in my area, to get into.. my area. I stumble on one profile, a girl who had tattoos, a blonde undercut, and the prettiest blue eyes I’d ever seen. So I read her profile, and she indicated that she likes The Big Lebowski – hey, I like movies and stuff, too! We’re basically soul mates. I send her a message with one simple line, stating that “the rug really tied the room together.”

She messages back, and I charm her with my e-suaveness; we set a date to meet for the first time, in some cafe somewhere. On paper, it sounded horrible, she knitted while chatting, and I rambled incoherently for 2 hours; it was actually really very lovely, and we both discovered that the other is also an awkward geek, so a second date and third date was set.

The third date was nerve-wracking, because it was The Third Date, with all its expectations and whatnot, and to make things worse, I was super Horngry by the time we met. She was kind enough to offer to cook me food at her place, and I agreed heartily; not because I thought I was gonna get laid, but because I so hungry, I was about to eat a fire hydrant. (Upon reflection, it was a super sly way of getting me to her house, but I think with my stomach first, vagina second, brain last.)

Flash forward to us at her house, preparing the ingredients for the leek soup she was going to wow me with; I completely missed any previous cues indicating her attraction and my only hint was to stammer that I never have a clue if a girl’s into me, unless she makes the first move. She then apparently has had enough of my idiocy and grabs my face and kisses me, her hands completely covered in onions or peanuts or something. So sensual.

Like the cool dude I am, my legs literally give out, and not in that millennial sense of the word, either-I mean they actually, truly collapsed under me. Laughing, we made our way to the couch where we began to get naked, where lots of kissing and praying that the roommate wouldn’t burst into the house happened. She had breasts from God that were nestled in a lacy bra, and was a great kisser- I was probably wearing some cat hair-covered bra I found on my floor, and was hoping I wouldn’t throw up in her mouth from sheer nerves.

Luckily, I didn’t end up throwing up on her and because of that accomplishment, we end up in the bedroom where The Sex was going to start. Thing is, I had no idea how to pleasure a woman, as the only vagina I’ve ever touched was my own*. Turns out, it’s very much like touching your own vagina, just.. You know, on a different person. I guess she was as stoked as I was, as she kept repeating, “THIS IS AWESOME,” like a college kid doing MDMA for his first time at Coachella.

Racing through my mind as I pleasured her were thoughts like, “Fuck, this is really happening?” “Are we having sex? Is this sex? Now?” And “the mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell.” Eventually, we got into a groove, and ended the night collapsed on the bed, blissed-out, and apparently traumatising her homophobic Quebecoise roommate and probably her two cats as well.

The night drew to a close, and I kissed her goodnight and headed home. Glowing and wanting to tell everyone that I lost my G-card, I thought better of it and began the drive home. Suddenly, I was then greeted with a growl from my stomach that probably echoed in the car – we had forgotten to make the damn soup.

Totally worth it.