I think my girlfriend’s trying to turn me into a lesbian

Now, before I start, shut up.

I know what you’re thinking.

“That makes no sense.” “If she’s dating a girl, she’s a lesbian.” “Or at least bisexual.”

False.

False false false.

I am a straight girl who was suckered into dating a lesbian girl. This is a true statement. My dear friend, let’s call him Sporty Spice, agrees wholeheartedly. He knows that our friends are really just a group of tricksters, Exhibit A especially. Her partner in trickery crime is our friend Santa’s Little Helper (not for the holiday, but for his love of dogs. Like, looooove. Touch-them love.) Exhibit A has clearly learned from his ways.

Where to start with my reasoning? Here it is.

Reason 1: Trifecta

Sporty Spice, Exhibit A, and Santa’s Little Helper have this thing, and it’s serious. It is called the trifecta. The trifecta does not mess around.  It is a foolproof system of loving. What happens with it is that you (in this case, me), the unsuspecting, leave the party area to get a little fresh air, and SWOOP. They literally swoop in. You start getting complimented left and right. “Are those new shoes?” “Your hair is great.” “Have your boobs grown like two cup sizes since I last saw you?” Some are more subtle than others, let’s be honest.

So. I go to this party MONTHS ago. It is hosted by Sporty Spice and it is AWESOME. It’s at a house that he’s house-sitting. There is a hot tub…indoors. Let me repeat. INDOOR HOT TUB. There is also an invite to a dinner with none other than THE OBAMAS on the wall. This place is legit.

In my case, I was outside enjoying a little fresh air with my dranky drank when suddenly SWOOP, trifecta. I’m getting a lot of compliments. I am nervous, because I’ve known these people for like, two weeks, and they’re kind of my supervisors. So I just smile and nod a lot. Before I know it, my drink is not in my hand. Because that hand is occupied by another hand. Sporty Spice’s hand. My other hand is inappropriately touching Santa’s Little Helper’s….little helper. Exhibit A’s hand is way up on my upper thigh. That was the bizarre part. I was still in a relationship and they all knew it, but clearly the rum was speaking for them. I suddenly think to myself WHAT THE HELL, and I look to the door for help from my friends. They see me and walk away. I like my crew.

When we talked about it later, it was explained to me that the trifecta will eventually work. People will either be into Santa’s Little Helper’s extreme forcefulness, Sporty Spice’s tall white sock/dark shoe combo, or the fact that Exhibit A is a girl. I like that she keeps her standards low enough for me to grasp. And by that, I mean the opposite. She grasps me with her trickery.

–Skip to now, where Santa’s Little Helper and Sporty Spice are a little hurt that the trifecta didn’t play out in their favor. I took the choice that was way outta left field. Oops. Sorry boys, I still love you.

Reason 2: Cowboys and Strippers

I have to say that one of my favorite things to do is go out dancing. If you weren’t aware, enjoy this pictorial and feast your eyes on what 12 years of paid dance lessons has to show for it (notice that my arm is raised in every photo. Cool.):

So. Now that we’re on the same page, let’s move forward a bit. Exhibit A tries to act real casual about this, but this was the night where things went down. As in we decided hey, dating might be our next step, whoda thunk?!

She is not stupid. She is well aware of my love for “the dance.” We start drinking some wine at noon (it was my housewarming party, which in my eyes makes this acceptable) and decide by ten o’clock that we should, ohmigod, like, totally go out! For some odd reason, nobody but Exhibit A wants to go out dancing. It’s all I want to do. I had a fever, and the only cure was moving my feet. Exhibit A has some moves, but they’re pretty weird, they usually involve Sporty Spice and Santa’s Little Helper, and are slightly reminiscent of this little ditty:

I ask where she’s gonna take me out, and she says where she wanted to take me on my birthday. Then I recall – I didn’t end up going, but she had promised me some two-steppin’ fun at a cowboy bar. I cannot stand two-stepping, but after ten hours of wine, domestic taps and my best friend who is made of juniper, I in fact LOVE two-stepping. Off we go to the bar. I don’t know what possesses me, but I ask her “How do you do this?” Color me surprised, she sweeps me onto the dance floor and there we are, probably looking super ridiculous after the beverages consumed, two-stepping around. Needless to say, the dancing and her genuine sweetness won me over. I knew this was part of her devilish plan. Did I mention this was a gay cowboy bar? Key part of the story. I was surrounded. She totally had this planned. Evil.

Reason 3: Lesbians are everywhere

Exhibit A is really good at pointing out the gay community to me when we’re in public. “Look. Lesbiaaaaaaaaaaaaaaan on a bike” as we’re driving. “That girl is a tooootal lez” as we walk to the dog park. “Yeah, so-and-so tried to set us up, cause she’s a femme lesbian” as we’re out to dinner.

This is a direct quote right now from our Gchat: “you will love the L word. my straight friends watch it.” Suuuuure they do. Ask me what I’m doing tonight. Well, you can’t, you’re reading this blog, so I’ll just tell you.

Going to the Denver Film Festival. No big, right? Oh, the film we’re seeing? About a country singer coming out as a lesbian. (To be honest, it looks really good. ….uh oh. Check it.)

I’ve also started reading Effing Dykes, a hiii-larious blog (recommended by none other than Exhibit A herself…surpriiiise surprise.) She recalls posts from time to time. For example, when we were in my two-steppin’ hell, I commented that a lot of girls were looking at her like I wasn’t standing next to her. Rude. She said “Yeah, that’s cause they think you’re straight and just here to dance and not get hit on.” I asked why, she said “You’re too femme for them. This was totally on Effing Dykes. You don’t get hit on because people think you’re straight.”

Oh. Well that’s rude. I’m at this bar, so hit on me! Wait. …that’s what she wants me to think, she wants me to want to be hit on. TRICKSTER.

Reason 4: Sneaky lesbian compliments

I, like any self-lovahhhh, love compliments. I don’t fish for them, but I’m not mad when they appear. I’m able to deflect them with most people, but Exhibit A doesn’t tolerate it. When she says “You look really pretty today,” and I respond with “Uhhhh I literally just broke out so bad/am more bloated than Jessica Simpson/look like I stuck my finger in a light socket with this crazy hair, I call bullshit,” she tells me to shut up and accept it because it’s my face and I can’t change it.

Now, you may question what this has to do with her turning me into a lesbian. Oh, you just wait.

I noticed it a few weeks ago when we were leaving a Rockies game. (Disclaimer: Exhibit A is NOT superficial, she is far from it. What she said was just straight up fact, I can’t help but agree.) We’re walking behind a couple and she taps my arm and says “We are a way cuter lesbian couple than they are.” I tilt my head to the side. One of these women is wearing two-sizes too-big men’s board shorts. The other is chain smoking. I have to agree.

Then I do a mental double-take to her.

Lesbian couple? Ohhhh, reallllllly….

*Edit: So I just reread this, and I’d really like to point something out (though I’m not normally one who enjoys explaining myself, I’m doing it because I want to.) My girlfriend is great and this is written in sarcastic tone. When she dances in that Eric Prydz way, she does not hump the ground, nor does she wear Spandex (unless it is cold and under her clothing.) Don’t get it twisted (lol who says that), I’m crazy about her and she doesn’t actually force lesbianism down my throat. This blog was dreamed up in conversation with her when she said “What if we stay together for a long time and people start asking you if you’re a lesbian. What are you gonna say? ‘No, I’ve just been with a girl for twenty years?'” There you have it. Cheers.