Jackhammer, anyone?

Ladies, Butches, Gents, and Non-Bianary Peeps, I think we can all agree that there are still some gnarly misconceptions floating around out there about lesbians, and your friendly neighborhood Tomboyinkslinger is about to take a leather-wrapped jackhammer to three of them.
But first, a friendly disclaimer. I’m speaking about my community as I see it, and this is taking place through the lens of my own experience. So, it follows that I could be wrong. In fact, I frequently am. But it’s a fact that lesbians live as a minority in a primarily heteronormative society, and some antiquated myths are still out there.
And because I’m, well, me…. I feel a moral imperative to blow them the hell up. I know, it’s shocking.

All strapped in? Hold on to your hard hat, baby, because I’m about to fire up that tricked-out jackhammer.

The myth we cannot shake.
Every lesbian is attracted to your wife. And just the fact that she’s sitting at the bar minding her own damn business means your straight male fantasies are about to come true. 

I literally don’t know even one lesbian who has not had to deal with a married couple coming on to them. And I’m not just talking about the dude in the relationship. Straight (ish) women can be even more persistent, but not because she has the slightest interest in me edging that dress up her thighs; more often, it’s because she’s trying to make her husband’s ultimate fantasy happen in real life.
Sigh. There are so many things wrong with this scenario. First of all, let’s just assume that his wife has a genuine desire to sleep with me, (she doesn’t) and that he is wholly, altruistically interested in making that happen for her. (He isn’t.)
Then why does the guy assume that said lesbian is going to make a run for their Kia minivan and not blink an eye when he pulls up a chair in the corner of the bedroom to watch? He always assumes he’s invited to the party, and his top-shelf lesbian find is only there to provide a show.
Moral of the story, this is nearly always a self-interested move designed to cater to his hetero male fantasies. And only his fantasy. If that wasn’t the case, he’d assume he wasn’t invited to watch because it isn’t about him.
Read that last line again.

The myth we all hate:
The most universally hated assumption is that lesbians (mascs get this ALL the damn time) are just women  trying to be men. 

Oh, sweet Jesus…where to start? Let’s put this in a bite sized nugget of truth and then we’ll break it down from there. So put down your Bud Light and listen.
We are not trying to be men. We are trying to be ourselves.
For hundreds of years, femininity has been folded and squished into a tiny, non-threatening box that no one questioned. In the early twentieth century, we started redefining ourselves, but once we stepped out of that box, queer women had to start the process of finding out who they actually were. What they looked like, who they loved, and how they wanted to move through the world.We’re still doing that. So pick that beer back up and step out of the way, Bubba.
(Bubba steps into center stage, squints in the spotlight and takes a noisy swig of said Bud Light.) “But why would you date a woman who looks like a damn man? Why not just date a real man?”
Because lesbians are women who are attracted to other women. Sometimes, that’s a masculine presenting woman with dead sexy confidence and the perfect strap-on. Get over it.
(Bubba takes that in and crushes the beer can in his fist.) “Yeah, well, you don’t have a dick. A real one. So you’re still just tryna be me.”
This is where you’re right, Bubs. I don’t have a dick. I have the choice of hundreds of thousands of them. I can study her, learn what turns her on, how she likes to be touched and challenged and memorize her body. Then I can literally buy the one that fits her perfectly, pushes her boundries just a bit, and becomes an unforgettable part of us as a couple.
So, as it turns out, I don’t need a “real” one. Because it’s not about me. It’s about her.

The myth none of us understand. 
You’re only a lesbian because you hate men. 

Nope, I’m a lesbian because I love women. I don’t hate men, I don’t even think about men.
I’m in love with the way her hair sounds as it falls over the amber curve of her naked shoulder. How her heartbeat feels against my hand as I settle in bed behind her and pull her body back into mine. The flash of sunlight illuminating the pale blue of her eyes as they flutter closed and I watch her wet body melt into the warmth of the dock, the lake water lapping against the greyed boards stretching over the surface of the water like a velvety heron’s wing.
Again, not about you.

Listen, lesbian women are different, but what drives us is the same thing that drives straight people. It’s love. We want to be free to exist as our authentic selves and simply love who we love.
Which, it turns out, makes us not so different from anyone else.