Over the past week, I have gone on a few dates with some nice ladies. The cool thing about being a retired lesbian is having the option to come out of retirement whenever I feel like it. Even though I spend most nights snuggled with my dog as we watch Notting Hill, sometimes I crave the company of an actual human being. On average, I like to touch a woman at least once a year.
FAST FORWARD to last Friday as I meet a cute girl from Tinder, the really f*cked up dating app that is guaranteed to give you an STD. As she approaches me, I’m super glad she looks better in person compared to her profile photos. We start talking, and I can already see the red flags from the distance. I ask, “Are you gay?”
I’m allergic to BS. If you’re bisexual, that’s totally fine. If you’re a lesbian and sleep with men, YOU AREN’T A LESBIAN.
For example, I consider myself a lesbian because I don’t sleep with men. If I met a dude tonight and had sex with him on a regular basis, I would start telling people I am either straight or bisexual. I would not continue to label myself as a lesbian.
So, after the date with the semi-lesbian, I went back into retirement. Then, I met a great lady that works for NASA and started to fantasize about what it would be like to be in a relationship with her:
I was brought back to reality once we both realized there wasn’t a strong physical connection. Even though it didn’t work out with her, I realized there are women of substance out there in the Universe. It would have been nice going to space, though.
My vagina came back for a few days, but she’s gone now.
-The Retired Lesbian