The VICE Guide to Being a Lesbian
Photo by Jamie Taete
Why did VICE publish a Guide to Being a Gay Guy before the Guide to Being a Lesbian? Because fuck you, no one ever pays any attention to us dykes anyway. We've only got one TV show, we've got about four role models, and Queen Victoria didn't even believe we existed (though I don't believe in monarchy, so I guess we're even). Added to this, EVERYONE is desperate to steal our steez by watching endless videos of women screwing each other on the internet. Look, women, if you're really turned on by girls kissing tits and vaginas and the like, come over! Grab a spoon! Tuck in! Maybe read this first, though.
Are There Any Out There?
Are there any hot, sane lesbians? No, of course not. Spot a 9 at a dyke bar? Don't bother pal, she's a fag-hag and you're gonna have to settle for the 4 propping up the bar, sipping rosé from a plastic pint glass... Escort her back to yours, finger her until the sun comes up and realize she's a 2. Next thing you know, she's got your initials tattooed on her knuckles and is outside your flat with a moving van. Oh, and if you do ever meet an 8, enjoy it while it lasts, because she'll be shredding your bed sheets and eating mobile phone batteries within a week. Why? 'CAUSE SHE'S INSANE.
Honorable mentions: Androgyny, angry lesbians, acoustic guitars, aviators, anxiety.
Not bisexuals. But "bisexuals." Those lesbians who are too ashamed to admit their sexuality, and force themselves to wank off some random dude every few months to prove they've still got what it takes to satisfy a male (ie an open orifice). Every other day of the year, they're thinking about pussies, eating out pussies, or poking their own pussies. FYI—that makes you totez gay.
Honorable mentions: Breasts, bra-less, Beth Ditto, boring lesbians, Birkenstocks, baby dykes, Boys Don't Cry, Bad Girls, being forced to wear dresses at family weddings, box sets (the average lesbian living room is 60 percent DVD box set).
Lesbians are fucking intense because they are women who have relationships with other women; which is basically the emotional equivalent of splitting the atom. They should always be approached with caution and a Taser. Ten-thousand years of female subjugation used to keep this kind of nonsense in check, but these days it's gone crazy. In these terms, Facebook has been the biggest lesbian game changer since the 1960s invented female orgasms. Now, lezzers can fall in love, freak out, and, most importantly, hit on straights 24/7. The "Like" button should be called the "Two In The Pink One In The Stink" button.
Honorable mentions: Cynthia Nixon, Cynthia Nixon's questionable wife, clits, cock teases, cats with ridiculous names (Chairman Meow, Princess Miss Tilly Pilly Tiara III, etc.), civil partnerships, chlamydia, celesbrities, coffee houses.
Photo by Coco Capitán
The toughest thing about being a lesbian is that you have to be both gay and a woman—two clubs that pretty much place you near the bottom of society's intestinal tube from day one. This means you might have to get used to being depressed. Especially at school. My first love was my best friend, but I wasn't brave enough to tell her, so I waited until she left school (she was two years older), then I wrote a love letter and sent a mix-tape (actual tape) full of R&B love songs. She didn't respond, BUT she did delete and block me from Facebook, so I'm guessing she didn't want to see me naked. I cried all summer, until I moved to London and discovered gay bars full of women who did want to have sex with me. IT REALLY HONESTLY DOES GET BETTER.
Honorable mentions: Dildos, dykes on bikes, drama, double-enders, dental dams (nobody uses these ever and they should not exist), D.E.B.S, drag kings.
Whenever I feel low about being such a stereotype, I watch YouTube clips of Ellen. She is pretty hot for an older lesbian, she's really rich, she gets to hang out with famous people, pretty much all of America loves her, and she does tons of cool shit for the gay community. Whenever you start to think that all lesbians are angry and overweight, type her name into YouTube. She's a babe. She could maybe do with dressing slightly less like Justin Timberlake, and her sitcom wasn't very good, but she's still amaaaaaaazing.
Honorable mentions: Erect nipples, envy, Ellen Page, eyeliner (the only makeup that exists in the lesbosphere).
Thank god we've got ten of them. Straight guys insist that lesbians can't have proper sex, but while your average dude is pumping frantically away at a woman practicing her Kegel exercises to fake the perfect orgasm, lesbians have worked on other, less strenuous techniques. Techniques that achieve actual goals. Take, for instance: The Shocker; a move which is capable of causing an orgasm so intense, a friend of mine once actually burst an air mattress doing it.
Honorable mentions: Femmes, flat shoes, fairtrade, fear of lesbian bars, feminism, fannies, fish fingers, fisting gloves.
Photo by Jamie Lee Curtis Taete
Most lesbians dress halfway between Adam Lambert and a sporty magician. Where do I even begin? Let's start at the feet and work our way up. Feet: toe rings, sensible sandals, deathpadrilles. Legs: ill-fitting jeans, cargo shorts, "boyfriend jeans" (which are stupid), whatever those boxer shorts that girls wear are called. Torso: tank tops, T-shirts with that "Nobody knows I'm a lesbian" thing on it, plaid shirts (often wrapped round the waist), polo shirts, waistcoats, and finally, trilbies. Oh, and somwhere around the neck: Puka shells. Fucking puka shells.
Honorable mentions: Gluten (dykes always have dietary issues), gay boys, God (he hates us), Grimes, googling the symptoms of STDs every time you get a sore throat, getting offended when straight people assume you know all the lesbians in your city or town (even though it's true).
Honey, No Hair
It might not seem so at times, but lezzers are only human. We don't like flossing with pubic hair as much as the next mammal. And as for the fucking feminists who think you're changing the world by growing your selective bodily hair sections (armpits, legs), we don't want you, so fuck off and collect beads of sweat on your own time.
Honorable mentions: Hella gay, hormones, hotties, horniness, herpes, The Hours.
Lesbians are so eco that not only will you see us out in actual clubs with over-the-shoulder hemp bags, we've also learned how to recycle girlfriends. Thank god we can't procreate: with the amount of incest that goes on within friendship groups, all our kids would look like Gollum on polonium. Meat that hasn't already been pummelled by at least three of your bezzies doesn't exist.
Honorable mentions: It gets better, Immac, Ikea.
Photo by Jamie Lee Curtis Taete
If it weren't frowned upon, we'd mark our territory/girlfriend/potential wife by pissing on them. Within seconds of one lesbian breathing on another, everything goes Dresden. Chill out, lady, I was only asking your girlfriend to stop standing on my rucksack, and, BTW, you could probably turn it down a notch, it's unlikely anyone's gonna be hitting on her, she's totally butters.
Honorable mentions: Johanna Sigurdardottir , Jane Lynch, jail (I used to fantasize about going to jail when I was younger to meet lesbians because I didn't know where they actually existed), Jodie Foster, JD Samson, juice (cranberry, for cystitis), Jeeps, Jessie J.
I'm currently playing "Constant Craving" to see if I can figure out who she is. Nope. I hear her name thrown around a lot though, so I guess she must be very important; As A Lesbian.
Honorable mentions: KY Jelly, kissing, Kathleen Hanna, Kristen Stewart (she's fucking gay, OK?), Kate Bush, kitchen utensils, keeping in touch with your ex.
Lesbian Bed Death
So you're nine days into your relationship, you already have matching tattoos, re-homed cats, and know every word to "Constant Craving" (turns out it's quite catchy) and you have somehow stopped having sex. This is called "lesbian bed death." The way to move forward with this problem is to have a deep and meaningful talk about your feelings and the lack of sex. This will result in absolutely nothing changing. She still won't want to finger you, and you still won't want to finger her. Lean over to your laptop and hit that "Like" button until someone does.
Honorable mentions: Lips, lipstick lesbians, lesbians that look like Justin Bieber, lip service, lesbian lap, La Roux, Lady Sovereign, lezbos, lesbos.
Photo by Coco Capitán
Moving in Together
Just to reiterate: this is a big deal within the lesbian community. We even have our own removal lesbians, who only move other lesbians. They must be making a fucking fortune. Shortly after the organic tomato plant begins to bloom, the relationship ends and back come the lesbian removal gals, one of whom is now your new girlfriend.
Honorable mentions: Marriage ("I had soooo much fun with Lezzlie at the bar the other night. She paid for my beers and we kissed for like, a million hours by the trash can. I've never felt like this before, I think she's the one!"), moms, MILFs, mooncups, MDMA.
I know you femmes like a longer finger nail but having your uterus ripped out does not feel great. Please clip.
Honorable mentions: Natalie Portman's shaved head (her actual head, not the band), New Eras, nipple play, "No. I would not sleep with Johnny Depp."
Old School Lesbians
These are those ageing, raging, shaven-headed, butch silver foxes that we are constantly reminded of every time we're stereotyped as them. You know the ones: They fought for our rights and wear loosely fitted patchwork trousers. Sometimes they're adorned with nose rings, vaguely spiritual tattoos, or 120 extra pounds. Considering that's how the mainstream percieves us, it's no wonder that many girls question their sexuality before coming out. I'd much rather take a cock and imagine it's a girl than tap that shit.
Honorable mentions: OKCupid, ovaries (why don't these things have an off button? I don't want a fucking baby, I wanna get eaten out!), orgasms (we invented those, for women), Oranges Are Not the Only Fruit, organic food.
Photo by Jamie Lee Curtis Taete
I just read back what I've written so far, and am aware that I sound totally fucking miserable, but I am very proud to be a lesbian. So proud, I have just switched on Heather Small's "Proud" (the club remix).
Once a year we celebrate being dykes by attending Pride. A couple of hours is spent being thankful to the generations of gays before us, and the rest of the day is spent on perv patrol/lesbian lapping (where you frantically run around trying to make eye contact with every single woman in the hope one will latch on) and double dropping pills with strawpedo-ed Bacardi Breezers.
Honorable mentions: penises (fuck those nasty little things), pussy power, power lesbians, pillow fights, periods (ew), pubes, pushing gay men out of your way at the bar in gay clubs, poppers.
It's a pretty sorry state of affairs when the entire lesbian community shits their pants because Queen Latifah called the crowd at a Pride march "my peeps." Why not just come out, Queen? It's not like it's going to make your on-screen romances with Steve Martin and LL Cool J any less convincing. Ditto Alicia, Kristen, Jada, Nicki, Whoopi, Janet, Missy, Dolly, and Oprah. What's the deal, ladies? Baby dykes have, like, zero role models. Chuck us a bone.
Honorable mentions: Queer theory, queefs (lol), Quin (that's Tegan and Sara's surname, n00b).
Dildos are a lesbian's best friend (we used to have a real best friend until we fucked her ex). Mine is called Tulisa. Nobody makes me cum like her. She's gold and pearlescent, and if she were a real person, she would be a fucking babe.
Honorable mentions: Relationships (yeahhhhh, no one is really doing this any more), Real L Word, raw food, rugby, recruiting straight women, rimming, Ruby Rose, Room in Rome, roller derby, riot grrrls.
Photo by Jamie Lee Curtis Taete
I love having sex with a strap-on. A few of my friends get pissy at me when I talk about sexing my girlfriend from behind using a strap-on. They tell me it's disgusting that I'd want to use something that resembles a penis. But there's nothing disgusting about using a strap-on. It beats awkwardly navigating elbows and knees while trying to scissor each other, and in no time at all will she be on top of you, screaming like a cowgirl who just accidentally broke her hymen on the saddle. And that's the kind of thing that makes you feel good about yourself.
There’s also something really awesome about being able to gag a girl with your fat cock, and then take it off and wash it in the sink. Imagine having that nonsense in-between your legs non-stop. What happens when it’s hot outside? Where do you put it when you sleep on your side? Makes zero sense. Also, dick slapping a girl with a peen you bought just cause it’s called The Vamp and came in a box with Twilight shit on it is really funny.
Honorable mentions: scissoring, Sugar Rush, soya, Sharmen, Sporty Spice, swapping girlfriends, skating, Syd tha Kyd, Sam Ronson & Lindsay Lohan, squirting, semantics ("actually, I identify as 'queer'").
A lesbian's birthmark. Over 100 percent of all lesbians have a tattoo. We just love getting inked, perhaps it's our version of sex when the lesbian bed death kicks in? Sadly, we're not usually wired to think about the future and bingo wings that'll inevitably accompany it; so, in ten years, the birds on our arms are going to look like seals. Because, let's be honest, when the lezzer bed death kicks in, the arms stop getting a work-out and we lose any muscle we may once have had.
Honorable mentions: Tibet, tAtU, tag team, The Organ, top or bottom, tears, telling everyone you hate The L Word when it's basically your favorite show, Tank Girl.
The sweeping, black emo fringe had its day many menstrual cycles ago, and the undercut has taken its place. The more uneven and DIY, the better. It's been so successful that even straight bitches have started doing it, which can be confusing on the gaydar. But, TBH, Rihanna looks so hot with one that I don't even give a little bit of a shit.
Honorable mentions: The U-Haul joke (Q. What does a lesbian bring on a second date? A. A U-Haul), underrepresentation in the media.
Photo by Jamie Lee Curtis Taete
We all have them, we all want to touch them, and we SHOULD all maintain them (see "H"). So don't hate, don't bitch on any girl's V, we're all different and that's wonderful, every vag is beautiful in its own special way (even if some of them have a special kind of esoteric beauty which is hard to pin down). Let's all just appreciate the fact that with the vagina comes the clit, and through the clit comes grrrl pleasure, and if you give your lady enough pleasure, she might just squirt and that's one fucking awesome thing to watch. It's like aurora borealis, but sticky.
Honorable mentions: Virginia Woolf, violence, vodka, vaginas, veganism.
I'm a huge fan of wanking. Boys seem to think they've cornered the market in self-love, but that's bullshit, we just talk about it less because we're not gross. I've tried watching lesbian porn but the girls in it are either real lesbians (ie overweight and ugly), or eastern European girls who have been promised a better life in America in return for being herded into a hotel room and forced to finger each other under a strip light. So I don't really "do" porn. My favorite person to wank over is Ariel from The Little Mermaid; her tits are amazing.
Honorable mentions: Whole Foods, "Who's the man in the relationship?" (a question asked by straights).
The kind who use a drumstick as a double-ended dildo for their first sex toy (K, maybe I watch porn sometimes...)
Honorable mentions: XOXO, The XX.
Photo by Maggie Lee
You're Such a Dick When You're Drunk
You do this:
You're on a night out and you are on your third pint of a butch beer—Fosters, if they've got it. You slam the empty glass on the table while clenching your jaw and flexing your upper arms. You pick a fight with anyone you can corner long enough to maintain eye contact with. You threaten to beat up every girl in the vicinity who has eaten your girlfriend out (which is everyone), then, you forget that you're supposed to be beating up people and start grinding inanimate objects as your pants slip to reveal your Spiderman boxer shorts.
Lesbians everywhere—listen up: You're not on at a bachelor party, you don't have a cock, and everyone thinks you're a cunt when you're drunk, so stick to soda water, plz.
Honorable mentions: Yoga, YouPorn, Yeah Yeah Yeahs, Y-fronts.
Once upon a time, you fucked all your friends and fought with them over who owns the right to your cats. But now you've grown up. It's time to move out of the city and into the countryside to live with all the other ageing lesbians. Your afternoons are spent baking hash brownies for the village tea party; held in honor of your HRT. Finally, as memory loss kicks in and your vagina dries out, you'll achieve zen-like calm. You've earned it, brave soldier.
Honorable mentions: Zucchini (AKA nature's dildo. I know they already used this joke in the gay guide, but nothing starts with Z. Fuck you.)
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