The boundary between fans and besties is extremely murky.
I would spend the school days lost in the fantasy about the girls I would eventually fall when I was a closeted baby-dyke living in Westport, CT
Girls had been frequently leggy and swaggy and tall and olive-skinned, forever clad in destroyed black jeans that are skinny with a mind filled with acid-blonde-hair falling into faded-blue-eyes and a face defined by cheekbones therefore sharp they might destroy a guy.
I would personally imagine just exactly what our relationship would seem like: we’d be energy babes whom slayed inside our enviable jobs by time and hung call at dimly-lit whiskey pubs by having a bevy of celebrity dykes by night.
We’d be fiercely in love with no other entity could ever stay the possibility at disrupting our unbreakable relationship. The intercourse! The intercourse will be kinky and crazy and passionate and hot, seven-nights-per-week and now we would not, ever need to “work regarding the sex” like right individuals presumably did. “Sex is work,” I would personally hear my mom advisor her heterosexual cohorts, over steaming cups of tea. I would personally move my eyes as I eavesdropped through the next space. Nah, my lesbian connections that are sexual be therefore intoxicating, they are going to never burn up. My partner’s and I also shall be residing in a blissed-out state, side-by-side, until dyke do us component, child.
Within my very early 20s, once I finally dropped on the unforgiving pavement of my first relationship that is lesbian We recognized it does not work “like that.” We clutched onto my glittery, unrealistic, pre-teen fantasy want it had been the past cup of Champagne to ever grace this cruel, cool globe.