Mixing colors may just be one of my favorite things to do in life. That may seem pretty sad, but it's true. For instance, right now I'm wearing my faded pink jeans with a coral tank top. I love red with pink and green with blue, though some may say they clash. To me, there really aren't any off-limits color combos. Anything can look good if you do it right. It helps that this dress has a million colors in it anyway. Here, I'm pretty much using them all with a different accessory. I'm not actually sure if there is purple in the dress, but it doesn't matter. We'll title this one, "Purple Heels Go to Tea."
Sex. It's so complicated. Today, the women question how much of a role sex needs to play in a relationship. After a few dates with jazz guy, who seems to have ADD issues, Carrie is no closer to learning anything about him, though they have "mind-blowing" sex. At first, that's enough for both of them, but eventually Carrie realizes that she wants to know more and jazz guy gets bored. Miranda gives up sex altogether. To cope, she turns to chocolate. When she finds herself eating cake out of the garbage, she decides to stop torturing herself. Charlotte and Trey make love in their old bed for the first time...and second time and fifteenth time. Charlotte wants to broach the subject of moving back in, but Trey doesn't seem interested. After a huge fight, Trey re-asks her to marry him and come home. Samantha waits to sleep with her girlfriend, Maria, saying it's not all about the sex. When the two finally have sex, Maria teaches her how intimate and emotional the act can be. Samantha announces that she's a lesbian to her friends, leaving them stymied.
It's time I came clean with something. There is one relationship that I have not written about at all, and it's about time I did. Up until now, I have been scared to, because it might come as a surprise to some people. However, in the end you have to write for yourself, meaning you have to write about what's important to you whether you have readers or not. If I hide things in a blog, I'm not being honest with anyone--including myself. I also firmly believe that the fewer secrets a person has, the less neurotic she will be. And I need all the help I can get. All of this aside, when an episode like this comes along, it's pretty hard not to mention anything about this past union. So, here it is.
I, too, once dated a woman. Her name was Emma, and we were together for three months. We met through my first lesbian friend at college, who knew Emma from work. Even before I met her, I told myself I was going to give a same sex relationship a shot, much like Samantha does in the episode. I really wanted to experiment with my sexuality--to at least try everything once that came my way-- and being with a woman was part of that. I thought, "Well, the gorgeous women in German cinema and Angelina Jolie do it. Why can't I?"
But I didn't really know what I was doing, nor what it meant. I also didn't know where it would lead. I was just curious. I was excited to try something new and to go a bit against societal norms, like having a threesome (which I haven't done) or dating an alcoholic (it's a joke, people). I know I'm not alone in being curious about sex with the same sex. I don't think songs like "I Kissed a Girl" would exist if it wasn't something at least a few women could relate to (even though I wish with all of my music-snob being that the song didn't exist). But I also felt scared, like Columbus sailing off to the end of the world. I knew my sexual experiment would have mixed responses, and I didn't want to hurt anyone, including Emma, my family, and myself.
Sure enough, it created quite a stir when I told my family. Growing up in a tiny town in Montana, gay people either didn't exist or they kept their sexuality to themselves. If we hadn't had friends in Seattle and relatives in San Francisco, I probably wouldn't have known what "gay" meant until college. When I broke the news that I was dating a woman, my family thought I must be a lesbian. My mom started crying about the grandchildren she would never have, and my dad didn't really say a word.
I was confused. Did it have to mean that? True, I was dating a woman. But I still liked men. I did like Emma a lot, and the three months together were pretty nice. We were both into art and music and poetry. It certainly wasn't all about sex. But I wouldn't hold her hand in public, and I felt guilty for not feeling the same way she did. She had only ever seriously dated women and said she was falling in love with me. I told her I still wanted to marry a man someday and couldn't wrap my mind around believing I was a lesbian. When her ex came to town and things got intense, I was glad to be moving away to Washington for summer school. We talked some on the phone and remained friends, but we decided to break it off. A few months later, I met Arnold.
For a while after ending things with Emma, I was really confused about what I was supposed to do next--date women or date men? I was attracted to men, but I didn't know if this relationship had to define me for the rest of my life. I kept wondering why there had to be labels at all. To gain wisdom, I talked with a good older friend, who had dated a woman for 11 years before marrying her current husband. She didn't think people had to choose one sexuality or another, or even consider themselves bi-sexual. It all depended on the person and the situation.
And that is what I have lived by. Well, that's the first confession. The second is that I, too, have eaten cake out of the garbage, and I don't recommend it. Call a friend or buy a vibrator, but don't let yourself stoop that low. It means something is being seriously deprived, and I'm not one for deprivation. It only leads to bad things. Ask Catholic priests around the world.
That's all, folks. I hope you'll be back. I will.
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