To be honest, I never “knew” I was gay immediately, I just thought I was bad at sex. I never burst forth triumphantly from the closet after years of hiding who I was. It was kind of a gradual realization that one day smacked me in the face with its force, after which I felt like a huge weight was lifted…
Unless you’ve been riding the vodka train 24/7 or you’re in a long-term relationship in which you have your sexual repertoire down to a T, you have either experienced or are bound to experience a few “WTF?” moments in bed with a girl.
If you have visible tattoos, you are probably used to receiving various comments about them. Some are positive and usually come from people who are genuinely intrigued by your body art. Then there are questions you’ve grown sick of answering (“Did that hurt?” “What’s that mean?”) but generally don’t mind, provided you’re in a good mood…
I couldn’t shake the sneaking suspicion that my diploma was more like a “Congratulations on jumping through the hoops!” award than a testament to what I had really learned in my four years at school. A diploma is no reflection of knowledge – it is a reflection of having completed the right number of credit hours while maintaining a good GPA. Plenty of idiots have diplomas.
A relatively small sampling of the many different types of girls who like girls you can expect to encounter in gay bars nationwide. If you don’t come across any of these, you are clearly not at a gay bar.
In a relationship, it is almost guaranteed that you will get fat and happy. You will lie contentedly in her arms on your plush couch among your eclectic throw pillows and reflect on how lucky you are. You will order in and eat out. In a spirit of domestic goddess-osity, you will attempt to cook dinner from scratch, which will of course result in half the kitchen on fire and subsequent takeout from the Chinese bistro down the street.