When I finally mustered up the nerve to come out of the closet, I felt amazing.
I felt like 10,000 weights had been lifted off my frail shoulders. I felt like the inner-anxiety that had plagued me all of my life had suddenly blown into the air. I could finally be myself.
I had that "coming out" glow that is evident on the faces of all formerly repressed homosexuals. See, repressing your sexuality is really bad for your complexion. But, girl, being out is better for your skin than any of the $200 facials I used to get biweekly at LA guru Kate Somerville's flagship West Hollywood spa.
But you know what? After a few weeks of emotional bliss and radiant skin, I was once again awash with fear. Acne found its way back. All of a sudden, reality (that bitch) came swooping into my frame of vision, taunting me and reminding me, though I had completed step-one, I had only danced around step-two in the process of becoming a fully-realized lesbian.
Step two was sex.
No, being a lesbian didn't mean you just got to hold a pretty girl's hand while you strutted down the Santa Monica Pier at sunset. It meant you had sex with women. It meant you went down on women. It meant you had to make a woman COME, and judging from my own body and sexual experiences, I knew this was not an easy task.
And while I'd had sex with girls in high school — I even went down on a girl when I was drunk in the seventh grade — I was still scared (but not scared straight).
None of that closeted sex even seemed real. It seemed like a weird, blurry dream. And it sort of was, because most of it had happened when I was pretty much blacked-out anyway.
Plus, if I didn't know what I was doing when I had closeted sex, it was okay, because I was still "straight" technically, DUH.
But once I was a rainbow-flag-waving, self-identified dyke, I was totally screwed. Being a lesbian meant I needed to know how to have lesbian sex, which really gave me heaps of anxiety.
The anxiety was particularly harrowing, considering I didn't even really know what lesbian sex was. It was pathetic. I had to Google it. And Google only directed me to porn sites where girls with acrylic nails went down on each other, which I knew was unrealistic, because I could only imagine what those acrylics would do to a girl's insides.
I think we all go through an awkward sex phase when we're first coming out. Even if we've been sleeping with our "roommate" for five years, it all changes when we're officially out.
So here are the nine types of awkward sex we have when we're first coming out:
The "fantasy" sex
The fantasy sex is the incredible, mind-blowing, spine-tingling, amazing S-E-X you have when you first come out. It's life-changing. It's packed with ethereal orgasms and shimmering, dewy, supple body parts.
It's wonderful, but it only exists inside your pretty little head. Now that you're out of the closet, you're teeming with endless fantasies of all the amazing sex you plan on having, you know, once you get the courage to actually go to the lesbian bar and talk to girls.
Yeah, babes, you have to have the talking part down first.
The "drunken" sex
So you finally got up the nerve to go to the scary lesbian bar, the one packed with girls who date, kiss and have sex with other girls.
But once you're there, you're super duper nervous, twirling your hair around your shaky fingers and fascinated-yet-paralyzed by all the incredible gay energy lurking in the air. The only thing left to do is drink your innocent face off.
You order a shot. And a vodka soda. And another shot. And another vodka soda.
The next thing you know, you're on the the dance floor with a gorgeous girl clad in ripped denim. First, you're dancing. Then, you're smoking a cigarette outside with her. (You don't even smoke.) And then, you're giggling in a taxi together. Next, you're naked in her bed.
You wake up with a headache so bad it feels like someone stuffed cotton balls into your fragile skull and poured peroxide into your eyeballs.
And suddenly, you're filled with drunken flashbacks of the sex you had with the girl snoring next you. Even though your mouth feels dryer than the Sahara Desert, you smile. Purr.
Though it was a drunken mess, you ripped the Band-Aid off, trooper. You had sex with a girl, and you fucking liked it!
The "sober and scared shitless" sex
Okay, so the cute girl you took home on that drunken night out keeps blowing up your phone, sending you flirty text messages.
What do you do, my sweet girl? Well, I think the answer is pretty obvious: You take her out. You know the date is going to end in sex, because you've already had sex. Once you've been twisted up beneath the sheets, there is no acting prim. Too bad you don't remember it!
You vow to redeem your sloppy, drunken, sexual self and get down-and-dirty with this girl while sober.
After a tame dinner date with only one glass of vino, you find yourself in her bed once again, and once again, you're having sex... only you're scared shitless the entire time.
"Am I doing this right?" you keep asking yourself, as you nervously fumble around with her bra strap and awkwardly put your body "on top" of her. Wait, are you even a top? UGH. It's so confusing.
Why didn't they teach lesbian sex in sex ed class? What is wrong with the system IN THIS COUNTRY?
The "Is this even sex?" sex
You hear a bunch of your new lesbian friends talking about sex. They all have a different definition of what lesbian sex is exactly, and now, you're sorely confused, aren't you, kitten?
Now, you're going down on a girl, and you can't even focus on the task at hand, because you're stuck wondering, "Does this even COUNT as sex?!"
Can I tell people I had sex last night? WHAT IS SEX FOR LESBIANS?
The "awkward scissor" sex
You've heard about scissoring, and you've even read about it in books, so you try it out. Unfortunately, you're not coordinated or experienced enough to pull off such an advanced move, and you end up kicking the poor girl in the head.
While this is very discouraging, don't let it stop you. Scissoring is sexy; it just takes time to master.
The "Holy shit, why can't I make her come?" sex
Now, you're wondering why the hell you can't make this freaking girl come. You've been down there for, like, 20 minutes, and she's super into it. She's moaning, she's groaning and damn, she's really lost in the glorious mood.
But every time you think she's going to erupt in orgasmic bliss, nothing happens. And your jaw is really starting to get sore.
No one told you how much physical prowess it takes to make a woman come. Why do you think so many lesbians are gym buffs and personal trainers?
The "OMG, so this is what they mean when they say sex is intense and powerful" sex.
You're getting it on with your new bae, when suddenly, you realize, "Holy shit, I actually got lost in the moment."
It's the first time you've had sex and truly let yourself bask in the intense pleasure, and now, you understand why everyone makes such a big deal about SEX.
Suddenly, you're just hungry for orgasms all the time, because you're a ravenous, sexual creature with a newfound sex drive. This is followed by an extremely slutty phase.
The "Yep, I'm definitely gay" sex.
You're having sex with a girl, and you realize, not only do you love her body, but you love the way it tastes and the way it smells.
"Yep, I'm definitely gay," you think to yourself, relieved that it wasn't something you made up inside of your lonely head. After all, there are certain tastes, smells and sounds only ~a gay~ can love.
The "I think I'm getting good at this" sex
Not only do you make her come quickly now, but you do it seamlessly, with grace and ease.
"Holy shit, I'm getting GOOD at this," you think to yourself. This is usually followed by an extreme, cocky-douchebag phase, where you strut around the gay bar like you own the damn place.
We'll forgive you, baby dyke. It's just a phase, and all phases fade... hopefully.