Joined in 2023 
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Hi, the reason I'm posting this is because I'm honestly interested in what others have to say about this. Today I had one of those moments when you reflect on something and realize how goddamn weird it is. I wonder what I would have learned from not getting what I asked for. Would I have learned that there are other things about me as valuable and compelling as my sexuality? Would I have learned that some men are trustworthy? Would I have had more options than the ones available to "that kind of girl"? The night before I left on the cruise, two of my best friends got married. Watching one of my friend’s dads talking at the wedding dinner about how much he loved his daughter and her new wife, I teared up a little and said something to my partner about it: “This is actually pretty nice, huh?” But they wrinkled their nose at me. They’re not a fan of weddings — the pomp and circumstance, the big, grand displays of public affection. Like this article? Sign up to our newsletter to get more articles like this delivered straight to your inbox.
Before I left, I talked to a few of my reporter friends about it, just in case a hookup opportunity should present itself and I decided to partake for, um, research purposes . We decided that my Olivia story fell in some sort of weird journalistic in-between, just like my own job does. I sometimes do reporting, but I’m not strictly a reporter; I’m a writer, editor, and cultural critic. Plus, I wasn’t assigned this story to go and passively report out what everybody else was doing on the cruise; I was supposed to immerse myself in the experience (while, of course, disclosing to anyone I spoke with that I was writing about the trip). And the thing a lot of women on the cruise were looking to experience was, yes, getting laid. Best of all, we now have something that Juicy Secrets has sorely needed – an associate editor, which we’ve gone without since the disappearance of our old friend Poppabear, who was last heard from over two years ago. It was rough going for a while after that.Tequila was definitely involved. The night started off just like any other. It was the end to an unusually stressful work week and my best friend and I decided to ditch the wine and go for something a bit more potent. At about four shots and two mixed drinks in, things started to get interesting…
Also, one last thing- I'd like to thank everyone who contributed to this discussion. I got so much more out of it than I would have hoped, you guys encouraged me to set this up, thank you so much for your advice, sharing your experiences and support! You're awesome! Furthermore, when it all came to light, I learned that my parents and others in authority positions concurred that the incident had been, at least partially, my fault. I learned what kind of girl I was: I was a boundary-pusher, a rule-breaker, a girl who was always in trouble. This was what happened to girls like me. When the incident at camp somehow managed to make it to the gossip mill at my school, I immediately went from a girl who had never been kissed to a notorious slut. I think that's the key to the story. Deliberately, I made sure to cop every feel, make every grab, pinch every area, that I had always dreamed of. That night, there were two breasts that I had license to feel, and I was gonna make the most of it! I think when girls get felt up by a boy who is doing it for the first time, they're basically getting a breast exam the likes and care of which they will never experience from any doctor. They are receiving the full treatment of someone who has never wanted anything more than to feel EVERY part of those breasts.That night, Matie and Jamie convinced me (against my natural inclination to avoid live entertainment) to go to the evening’s scheduled attraction, a comedy set by Elvira Kurt. Before Elvira performed we were welcomed by Tisha, Olivia’s VP and our cruise director, who greeted the “ladies of Olivia” and announced a few of the events coming up over the next few days, including a meetup for the “Older, Wiser Lesbians,” or “OWLs.” (“Date me, OWLs!” Matie whisper-yelled next to me.) But we were not prepared for what followed. Next day as we reached college, we knew something was different. Did people stare at us for a little longer than necessary? Did the girls stopped talking when we reached the stuffy common room? We had no idea. Deliciously dirty, 'first time' Lesbian erotica; a sexually detailed story of skilful seduction and sweet submission. Sarah, a shy young virgin-girl has always lived a protected life at home with her loving parents until the day came when they decided that it was time for her to attend college, meet other girls her same age, become a bit more worldly wise, and also get up to speed on her education.
My freshman year of college I lived in suite-style dorms where I shared a room with one guy and a bathroom with another room of two people. This story is just one example of the shenanigans that went on in that dorm. When it comes to being a freshman in college, you will experience new things. For many people, this often comes with the fact that you have to use communal restrooms, as well as the fact most people have to share a room with a complete stranger. When I was coming to school, I was so excited to meet my roommate. I always pictured us as hanging out, and being pretty close. I found my roommate online, and it seemed like we had a lot in common but I soon found out that this wasn’t the case. We always seemed to be stepping on each other toes, and I realized that we had nothing in common. Over the years, I have called it an "inappropriate relationship." I have called it "an incident with an older man." Most frequently, I have called it "the thing that happened that summer." As in -- remember the thing that happened that summer? After 3 attempts of trying and failed miserably to have sex, we gave it another go. We were passionately kissing, clothes were off, he was on top and then next thing you know, he whispered in my ear that it was in. To which I responded ‘really?’ Afterwards, I sang ‘Like a Virgin’ by Madonna.’On Facebook chat, he was just like, this isn’t working. I got finished on Facebook chat. Minute of silence for me please.’
It was year 8 and I went to a friend’s party. We were all in the pool and we decided to get with each other. Some of the girls were topless. I really just don’t know.’ I would feel horrible, hurting a person I cared for, even though I was certain they wouldn’t be able to care for me in the years ahead in the way I needed them to — someone who I suspected, ultimately, wanted different things. How do you justify leaving a perfectly nice relationship, taking a blind cha It sounds shallow to imply that, in the beginning, I fell for her simply because of her style, her stuff. But what attracted me was the care and attention to detail she demonstrated via a lifetime’s accumulation and curation of these things. Together they made up the way she wanted to be seen in the public eye, the way she wanted to move through the world. She was not a boy but a full-grown butch who, at 53, was confident in who she was and what she wanted.I did kiss someone when I was 3 but I don’t think that counts (it was magical). It happened again when I was 13 with a disgusting boy at a party, it was like a washing machine and then I was gone with the wind (again, magical).’ In my relationship, I often worried that I was taking on the femme role to my partner’s masc — the Wendy to their Peter — in ways that weren’t always positive or healthy. My partner got frustrated when I mentioned what I thought were our gendered roles; they thought I was projecting straight bullshit into a queer space where it didn’t need to be. We were lesbian and nonbinary dykes; we were supposed to be beyond gender. I would sleep in Alia’s bed that night and accidentally pat her butt in my sleep, my mind clearly deluding my body into believing I was still on the cruise with Lynette. Alia would very nicely not be weird about it. At the Gen O meetup, the hairdresser mentioned that most of the paying customers on board are older women who’ve had an extraordinarily difficult time navigating life as lesbians; they deserve a space, she said, to fully be themselves. Maybe Olivia could do a specific queer-plus trip for trans people and gay men? Being in a space with “someone who looks like a man,” she said — horrifying me, Jamie, Matie, Dana, and a bunch of others — “can cause these women so much trauma.” I was 15 years old when I first felt a woman's breast. As a freshman in high school, I had been dating T., who was 14, for a couple of weeks. We had made out a few times, and the chemistry was building.
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