More Than a Kiss

Lesbians in the Mist

Amy was nervous. Everything in her mind told her not to go. However, everything in her body said, “Go! Go!” She was stuck somewhere in between, vacillating between bliss and fear. The middle ground was nerves. That’s where she was now. After the almost-kiss yesterday under the table, Jordan had asked her to go to the art museum with her. Amy’s mouth had said yes without even consulting her brain.

Her brain had kept her up most of the night, dredging up excuse after excuse after excuse as to why she should not go on a date, technically a second date, with a gorgeous, sexy lesbian. Here were the reasons in no particular order:

Dating a lesbian would mean she was a lesbian and if she was a lesbian then…

She couldn’t wear her cute shoes anymore.

She would have to get her hair cut short and that meant it would curl into its natural Afro state. Not her best look.

She would have to carry her lipstick in her pocket because lesbians don't carry purses.

They also don't wear lipstick, so nix on the last reason.

She would have to learn to cook so she could attend lesbian potlucks.

She would have to learn to like hummus. And learn how to pronounce it.

She would have to get a cat.

Then, in an act of fairness, her brain came up with reasons to become a lesbian. Here were the reasons in no particular order:

She would save a lot of money by not buying…

Pantyhose

Dresses

Make-up

Curlers

Razors (She was uncertain whether lesbians shaved their legs and under their arms. She hoped so.)

She could share a wardrobe with Jordan.

Amy knew she was being a little silly. Not all lesbians were exactly alike. She had seen a couple of episodes of The L Word. She was pretty sure her career wouldn't suffer and her mother – her father was long gone – would eventually warm to the idea. Still… it was a pretty big step. Especially for someone as clumsy in bed as she was. See prior banana peel story. However, Jordan had woken up certain parts of her body that had been hibernating for the past ten years. And like a bear crawling out of her cave after a long winter's nap, Amy was ravenous.

She wished somebody would write a guidebook. Lesbianism for Dummies. It would make things a whole lot easier. Or maybe she should infiltrate the periphery of lesbians. Study their culture, their mating habits, their sense of humor (assuming they had one), their sense of style (assuming they had that also). She could acquaint and acclimate herself to lesbians after careful study. She could be the Diane Fossey of Lesbians.

Early in the a.m. hours after zilch sleep, Amy decided to quit thinking with her brain. She made a pledge with herself to leave her brain out of the equation and let her heart and body do all the thinking.

The next morning, her heart and body took a shower, bought a new, funky wardrobe, and picked up her new car.