Ever wonder how lesbians have sex?
So. When did you lose your virginity?
Yes I do like to get right to the point. I’m just usually not that good at it. Today may be an exception. We’ll see.
Seems like a straight-forward question right? One everyone has an answer for (even if the answer is “I haven’t yet” – which can spark another really interesting discussion – see Met Another Frog and the Black Debutante).
Ok, fine. That one was easy. What about this, then: How about telling someone else your sexual history, and allowing them to decide for you.
Is the answer still easy?… Perhaps.
We all know when we lost our virginity, or if we are sill proud [hopefully – if not, call me sweetie and let’s chat] V-card-carriers.
And that probably means we have some idea of what the term “virginity” means.
But, NWSO raises the question: what about life-long ‘beans (as in, les-beans)? Sure, they get the gold star and all, but… are they virgins?
NWSO also makes the point that he doesn’t exactly know what goes on with lesbian sex, as he’s never been in the room with it – and can only imagine it. Now, on one hand? It’s been made clear to me that most lesbians I know reallyfuckinghateit when people ask them how lesbians have sex. Me? I don’t really care. Ask me. But then, I don’t find all that many questions offensive so.…. (and apparently I have nothing on the other hand… )
However. The point remains. It’s not exactly nice to walk up to anyone and ask them about their sex life like that.
But I am getting ahead of myself here.
Back to defining sex.
Basically, I see NWSO’s point. The first time I was with a woman, she
was crazy did everything and I did nothing (I was way not ready for that – don’t worry, I got way over it). I didn’t even know we had slept together until I talked about it (finally) with a lesbian friend. Now, of course, I’m as clear on when I’ve had sex with a woman as I am on when I’ve had sex with a man.
Look. Before you ask me how I know that, let me ask you something (it is my blog, after all), with a lil story as interlude. My mom works as a nurse practitioner for Planned Parenthood (no kidding – I know). Years ago, my mom asked my sister and I (much to our dismay at the time) if we had heard of people our age having a lot of anal sex (response: “moooooooommmmmm!” which was, of course, not helpful). See, growing up in a religious and conservative state (even if the town we lived in was far from either ), my mom was seeing an alarming and growing number of teens who were having anal sex because it allowed them to stay virgins and pure in the eyes of the Lord.
Not even kidding here, people. Of course, my mom was concerned not because she thought they had a warped sense of sex, but because hello anal sex is a great way to get STIs/STDs, even if you can avoid the whole pregnancy thing. And these kids were not using condoms.
SO. These kids didn’t think anal sex was really sex. I.e. they could do that and were still virgins.
Would you agree? And if so, what does that mean for lifelong gay men? Or for hetero couples who have anal sex? Or for men who engage in anal sex with anyone – do they get to say they haven’t had sex with that other person? If the other person is a man, can they still consider themselves straight (according to my gay boys, there are a lot of “straight” men, often with girlfriends, who claim to not be havin’ any of that gay sex, yet give out a whole heck of a lot of blowjobs)?
Are lifelong lesbians virgins?
And take it a step further, as NWSO on did:
If said lesbian decided to sleep with a man later on in life would she/he consider her a virgin at the time of intercourse? It’s not like she never had an orgasm or had never been penetrated, it just wasn’t by a man so I wonder how someone in that scenario would define their virgin status.
Therefore, if you think virginity needs to include some kind of penetration… by a penis… are you saying men need to be present in the act of sex? I mean… if you think anal penetration is clearly sex, but have trouble defining lesbian sex… really, that’s all you lacking. The penis. Because, trust me ladies and gentlemen, there is penetration. And it can be in whatever orifice you’d like (hey, I was always an exit-only girl until another girl convinced me otherwise, so there ya go).
And, as far as I’m concerned, if I could grow a penis and use it? I would. And not because I want to be a man. So. (There are, of course, alternatives – even if they are rather hilarious.)
You see where I am going with this. What constitutes “virginity” to you? What constitutes “sex“?
It’s really quite interesting to me – this discussion on virginity and sex. And how clearly it can point out our strange need to include the male member. Seriously. I bet most of the non-lesbians who read this will have no problem calling anal sex sex, and yet take a second to think through the lesbian thing.
It’s why my lesbian friends get asked about it (well, that and some men are hoping for a graphic description. They’re lesbians you asshole). And it’s probably, whether they realize it or not, part of the reason why it bothers them (that and the assholes who want a pass into their bedrooms).
See, the points I am trying to make are:
- The penis does not define sex, yet somehow inherently in our minds, we think it should. I am not excluded from this – as I didn’t even know it the first time I had “lesbian sex.” In addition, as the teens my mom was encountering can attest, it’s not just the penis for some people, but the penis –> vagina connection that’s important for sex. I personally think it points (ha ha – I’m still thinking of penises) to how ingrained hetero-ness and male dominance is in our collective consciousness. Please argue with me on this – I’d love to hear your thoughts. I’m not saying down with men (even though I am sure I should, as a feminist, right <–*sarcasm*), but… you know, just sayin’.
- Defining sex in certain ways can lead to exclusion: you can remove whole groups of people from discussion and dialogue by simply negating their sexual experiences. Sure, you don’t mean it that way, but that’s what it does. Questioning whether another person’s sex is valid (e.g. are you still a virgin?) is not all that nice, people. Sure, I may have just dropped a seemingly self-righteous bomb on you ass, but that’s the truth. For example: if you identify with being a straight, my second question at the beginning of this post (tell someone else your sexual history and have them decide) probably isn’t intimidating. If you identify as other than straight? You understand why that question is. Just another way us gays/bis/trans peeps are marginalized in society. And you didn’t even know you were doing it, did you. Well. Consider yourself edjumakted.
- Sex is a cah-razy wild thing and defies definition. Well, across the board, any way. Your definition is not necessarily mine. And my definition of sex with a man may be different from sex with a woman. And, you know what? I am a-ok with this. You should be, too. Because it’s not up to you.
I think it’s fine to have definitions. I think it’s even better to talk about them. What is not ok is putting your own definitions on other people. Or using your definitions to question and-therefore-invalidate-whether-you-meant-to-or-not someone else. I don’t ask you to take on my religious or political beliefs, do I (well… maybe I wish some people would, but…)? Then I shouldn’t ask you to take on my sexual beliefs either.
And maybe belief is a better way to describe it. What I take to be sex, and take to be virginity, are mine. You can share those definitions/beliefs, or you can have your own. The bottom line here (I will find it somewhere I swear) is that definitions should drive discussion, not end it or invalidate another point of view.
There’s a greater point to be made (really? am I using “point” like I used “newsflash” in a previous post?). If we let go of the need to define sex so strictly and across the board and for others, it opens us up to looking at other people’s experiences in a new way. Deciding that we need to define sex and virginity the same way for all of us can end that discussion – and, more damaging, undermine other definitions, thus excluding other people simply because they aren’t us. In addition, it can re-emphasize and entrench societal biases in very subtle ways, even if that wasn’t what you meant.
Instead, we can look at it as a way to hear other experiences, and to be more inclusive about what sex means to many people, not just traditional views. Hey, it might even open up options you’d like to explore, and make us all more comfortable with the sex we really want to have. It also helps us understand how other people have and view sex, thus creating more honesty and better communication about it.
We can learn to be more open to a world where sex is not black and white. It’s not blurry and gray either. Instead, honey, it’s all colors of the rainbow.
And you know how I love diversity. *wink*
PS I know y’all didn’t mean it this way, when you wanted to know about lesbian sex. I know you were just curious. I hope you now understand. Go forth more sensitive and more informed. Of course, I can still explain it to you, if you really want to know how I personally experience it. But I won’t pretend to have the answer for all lesbians. And I don’t necessarily advise breaching the topic with just anyone – make sure they’re ok with discussing it, first.
That being said, it’s fun to trade techniques…