Lez me tell you: There are a lot of brilliant little treats, incredible bright lights and glorious, wonderful privileges when it comes to the lesbian life.
For example, I could (and have) go out after work, meet a sexy woman at happy hour, spend the night having mind-blowing sex in her fierce West Village loft and stay over. And instead of waking up in a panic, wondering how the hell I'm going to get home to change out of yesterday's outfit AND get to work on time, I could just borrow an outfit from her.
And BAM. I've avoided the whole "walk of shame" scene entirely.
That's just one lesbian privilege in an endless sea of many, kittens.
However, there is something that really sucks (aside from the heaps of homophobia, objectification from men and incessant uphill political climb you partake in daily, just to have the same basic, human, fundamental rights as everyone else).
It's something no one, not even the trusty, seasoned dyke I befriended when I first came out, warned me about: the very real emotional roller coaster of PMSing at the same time as your girlfriend.
And look, straight girls, it's not the same thing as syncing cycles with your bestie or your coworkers, whether it's because you have the same birth control schedule (FYI, most lesbians I know don't really take birth control — another beautiful privilege we have is not worrying about unintended pregnancies!) or because it just happens naturally.
You're PMSing at the same time as your lover. The person you're intimate with.
It's that person's job to hold you through anxious nights and tell you everything is going to be okay. But when you're both PMSing, they can't hold you through the night. I mean both of you have hormonal night sweats, which are exactly not conducive to being held.
And there's no way in hell they're going to assure you it's all going to be okay, because they, too, think everything's doomed as well.
So here is the ~emotional roller coaster~ of PMSing at the same time as your girlfriend:
The Impending Feeling Of Doom
There's nothing quite like the impending feeling of doom erupting through my bones right before I get my period.
"I don't know what it is, but I feel like something bad is about to happen," I'll lament to my girlfriend, gazing out the window of her car, taking in the slate-gray sky and wondering if New York has always been this gloomy.
"Me too," she'll say in a flat, defeated voice.
Neither one of us will be able to pinpoint what this dark, sad feeling is, but we won't have the wherewithal to talk the other out of it. So we sink into a deep depression together.
The truth is, the dark cloud hanging heavy in the air is all PMS.
But, babes, it feels so real, doesn't it?
The Incessant Fights About Small, Menial Things
"You know, babe, you always RUSH me in the morning, and it stresses me out!" my girlfriend will say, fumbling for her keys, her pale face red and flushed with anger.
"I'm under a lot of PRESSURE right now at work. I can't be LATE!" I'll bite back, as irrational anger snakes its way around my waist, making me feel claustrophobic, like I can't even breath.
Searching For Deep Subtext In Stupid Fights
"I'm so sorry I snapped at you this morning," I'll text my girlfriend, my eyes welling up with totally unnecessary tears.
And the next thing I know, guilt is washing over me and my black leather jacket. I feel so terrible, as if I confessed to having a sordid affair with her sister when all I did was snap at her once.
I'll be met with an equally dramatic text: "I know you're sorry. I think we are both in a really complicated place in our lives. I think we have deep-rooted issues we're not addressing, and that's why we bickered so much this morning. We need to figure this out if we want this to work."
And it'll hit me like a ton of hot bricks to the surface of my oh-so-delicate skin: Holy shit. What if this is all a metaphor for something BIGGER?
What if me getting annoyed with her this morning really means I'm still harboring resentment toward my EX, who never valued my time at all and, in fact, made me feel like the scum of the earth? Do I need a therapist? Does she? Do we need COUPLES THERAPY?
"Meet me at the Dream Hotel at 8 pm," you'll text back. The sad expression on your face is so extreme, your coworkers are worried (which you secretly love, because when we PMS, we're hungry for chocolate and validation).
You'll throw in a dramatic "I need to talk to you about something important" to your text for extra-dramatic flair.
"Okay," she'll coldly message back, though you know it's a loaded "okay." There's no way she just meant "okay." She either meant "fuck you," "you're a bitch" or "we're breaking up tonight."
And when you meet at the Dream Hotel, the wine will go right to your head because PMS and wine is always a dangerous combination.
The next thing you know, you're crying, she's yelling and you're talking about bizarre things, like the future, children, your wedding and all sorts of subjects for which your relationship is far too new.
People are starting to stare, but you don't care because you're seeing red.
However, the only real red you're going to see is a red blood stain on your brand-new, white-lace La Perla underwear when you get home.
You go home alone, with tears streaming down your face as you stare out of your $40 taxi.
And you feel a pain in your gut. Surely, it's stress pain, so you send your girlfriend a bitchy text, "thanking her" for stressing you out so badly that your stomach is in literal knots.
She, too, is in pain and sends a bitchy "thank you" right back.
Once you're in the sweet sanctity of your lone bathroom, it all comes together. The pain, the fighting and the impending feeling of DOOM weren't real.
It was your period.
You're elated. It's like you won the lottery. You call your girlfriend and shout, "I just got my period!" A very palpable glee escapes from your tense lips.
"ME TOO!" she shouts back, her voice loaded with so much happiness, it sounds like a song in a Broadway musical.
You're full of JOY because your relationship isn't really in jeopardy. No, not at all.
YOU WERE JUST BLEEDING. THANK GOD.
The Sexual Tension
Now that you've uncovered the period problem, you're laughing at how dramatic you've been. You even catch yourself in the act of overreacting. At least you're both women, and women know how real PMS actually is.
However, there is a sexual tension looming in the air. All you want to do is go down on your girlfriend, but she's in no place for such a thing. And all she wants to do is go down on you, but you're in no place for such a thing.
And since we lesbians are such rampant sex maniacs, who feel the most connected to our lovers when we're getting down and dirty, this lack of sex greatly impacts the relationship.
"I FEEL DISCONNECTED," you'll text her in all caps.
"ME TOO," she'll text back, also in all caps.
Yup, a week of no sex and you're officially "disconnected."
The Incredible Post-Period Sex
Your period linked up with your lover's can feel twice as heavy and so intense, you think you'll never get out of this sexless, sad fog.
One day, though, you wake up, and the birds chirp. You look out the window, and suddenly, the sun is shining again. Your periods are finally over.
So what do you do now? You have the most amazing, mind-blowing post-period SEX of all time, girl. I mean, at least for this month.
You have about two weeks of bliss, until BAM. It happens again.
"I've been thinking you don't respect my dog," you'll find yourself cryptically texting your girlfriend, thinking your irrational feelings are totally valid and real, as the cycle inevitably repeats itself once again.