Scintillectually Yours

Occasionally, when I can’t find something to watch on any of the 87,490,238,739,829,302 channels I have at my disposal, I’ll fall back on old episodes of “The Real L-Word.” The series began after the REAL “L-Word” ended a couple of years ago. Now, I don’t live in LA, have never been to LA, and after watching both of these series, have no real desire to ever go to LA. When the first series (fictional) began, I was hooked. It was kind of cool to get drawn into the drama and the characters and yeah, I had a real thing for Shane but she’s such a hot bad boi that she fit the mold of every woman I’ve ever been attracted to. Just watching Kate Moenig walk around in a beater and jeans with a studded belt was enough to take my mind off of the fact that no group of lesbians I’ve ever known look, or act, like the bunch from either L-Word.

So now Bette and Shane and Dana and Alice are gone and I had my fun with the fanisode writing contests (hey, I got all the way to number 11 with one of my entries) and we’re left with what are, allegedly, real lesbians in La La Land. Maybe it’s a generational thing. I mean, I am old enough to have parented most of these young girls, but I don’t remember quite that much drama in my life. Wait…maybe there was. Yeah…I’m starting to recall lots of drunken threesomes, one night stands, hooking up with friends’ girlfriends behind their backs, fucking in the downstairs bathroom while I was supposed to be throwing a party at my house, my soon-to-be girlfriend going down on me in the back of a van on our way to a softball tournament…. Wow. It’s all coming back in a hazy blur that makes me rather blush. And wasn’t it just six years ago that I allowed a woman to move in with me the day after I met her in person and less than a week after we met online? Oh. my. god.

Dyke drama. Yeah, it’s alive and well. While I sat there this morning shaking my head at the television and thinking, “you want REAL lesbian life? Come get some of THIS!” Because my real lesbian life? It’s all about carpooling and bill paying and lawn maintenance. It’s about shuttling your kid from football practice to cub scouts. It’s about juggling choir rehearsal at your church with fitting a burger and fries in with your friends who are on their way home from an AA meeting. It’s about full-time jobs and throwing dinner together and trying to find time to exercise and not getting to see your partner until 9 p.m. most nights when you both fall into bed exhausted and can barely muster the energy for a peck on the cheek before you are both snoring loudly and one of you is drooling and the other farts.

Dyke drama. It’s alive and well when you are in your 20s and maybe in your 30s. When you hit your 40s, you’ve pretty much grown out of all of that and all you want is some semblance of normalcy and maybe a night to yourselves when you aren’t too dog tired to actually fuck for an hour or two before your joints give out and you get all freaked by the extra back fat that jiggles when your partner is shoving her cock in your ass. Clearly, no one wants to make a show about two well-past-prime-time middle-aged women with the exact same life issues as every other virtually married couple with a kid and a couple of pets and elderly parents in the mix. We might make a slightly interesting documentary but we’re no match for the dreadlocked Whitney and her silicone-boob-sporting paramour, Sara (pronounced Sahdah, of course). These girls are all gorgeous, all femme (yet another thing that makes me go “huh?”), and all seem to be rocking pretty decent jobs to be driving such nice cars and living in such cutesie houses in the land of Stars and bars.

Do I miss the drama? Hellfuckenno. I love my life, warts and all. Would I do it all over again? No way, baby. My choices got me right where I needed to be. I was a wild child. A hot young thang with the golden pussy. Now I’m a mother, a partner, an activist, a career woman, an active member of my church, and a wedding planning soon-to-be wife…to the woman who was the first dyke I ever had sex with…way back when. Would we have made a hot series back then? Oh, hell ya. We truly were “The REAL L-Word.”