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The Rainy Day Issue

The Greatest Lover

I was a lesbian for ten years and then one day I decided I wasn't. Or at least, I wasn't sure anymore.
Κείμενο Sarah Smith

Photos by AP

I was a lesbian for ten years and then one day I decided I wasn't. Or at least, I wasn't sure anymore. Most people instinctively know what they like sexually, but what about those of us who don't? How do we figure it out? First I tried to decide based on what kind of porn I like, but the only kind of porn I like is gay male porn. I love fag porn! My fag friend said, "Oh, that means you're straight. You like looking at dicks and with gay porn, it's double the dicks." But I honestly don't think it's about loving dick so much that I wanna see as many of them as possible. Ew, god no. For some reason, I just think fags are where it's at and I totally wish I were one. It's like really I'm supposed to be a gay guy, but since I'm a girl I just figured, OK, clearly I'm gay PLUS I'm a girl so I must be a lesbian! That has a sort of logic to it, right? Alas, things have not turned out to be so simple. I decided to do a test. I would have sex with a boy and a girl and I would rank them. To be extra scientific, I decided to add in the race variable, too. I just stuck with the basics, black and white, since the thought of fucking all the colors of the multicultural rainbow seemed a bit disease-itating. So I fucked a white guy, I fucked a black guy, I fucked a white girl, and I fucked a black girl. Here are the results, in order of worst to best. (Please don't be mad at me. I'm not saying this is the most thorough experiment in the world: four people. That's even worse than Freud.) The Black Guy
I was drunk at a party and went outside to smoke. It was raining so I had to huddle under this little canopy over a doorway. This dude was also standing there and in my drunken state I thought nothing of pressing up against him to avoid getting wet. Next thing I knew his hand was down my pants and an agreement was made to go back to my place. I should have known what I was in for when an SUV driven by his brother (not brother in a black way, brother in a we-both-came-out-of-the-same-vagina way) magically appeared to whisk us away. On the way to my place, the brother tried to inject himself into the scenario, offering to double-team me in the backseat of the SUV. I honestly considered it until he leered at me and said, "Where do you see me, in the front or in the back?" And I had to answer, "Um, how about the nowhere." We managed to ditch the bro and once we got back to my house, the party began. And by party I mean really shitty coked-out, limp-dicked sex until I kicked his ass out. Ugh, and he kept saying all this corny Barry White smoove-operator stuff the whole time. It was so, so bad. We were both annihilated. The verdict: I still feel unclean. The Black Girl
Technically she was still a girl, but she was a butch dyke who was about to start taking male hormones and transition into a dude. Therefore I was not allowed to touch any of her "womanly areas." We had to pretend the boobs and the vag simply weren't there. Fine by me—more time for touching MY womanly areas! She fucked me with a strap-on, which is always fun, and then, after I got off, I asked her/him (or as transmen like to say, "hir"—they are supes into inventing gender-free pronouns) how she (or "ze") would like to get off. Ze said ze would like to "ride my thigh" till ze came. So ze straddled my thigh and squeezed—oh how ze squeezed! Ze rode my thigh like a hobbyhorse for a good five minutes while I sat back in stunned silence, almost not feeling the excruciating pain of all the blood being squooshed out of my leg. The next day my thigh looked like sausage and it hurt to walk—not in the good way. The verdict: Bad, albeit educational. The White Girl
Right off the bat, I should tell you that this chick was clearly mentally insane. I had seen her around a few times and she always wore the same pair of sweatpants. Her eyes would dart around so fast she looked like a blind albino. But she was really cute so I lured her back to my house with the promise of weed. Once stoned she chattered incessantly, going from one non sequitur to the next and even when we started to make out she didn't shut up for a minute. So why does she rank higher than the black dude and the black girl? Because girlfriend RULED at eating pussy. I felt like Tracey Ullman in that John Waters sex movie when she screams, "Now that's what I call SNEEZING IN THE CABBAGE!" Oh, she also did this thing that seems dumb but turned out to be amazing: She blew on it. I always thought sensual stuff like that was gay, but wow, it felt gooooood. The Verdict: Having someone blow air on your vagina feels awesome. The White Guy
This was F-U-N. Sex with the white guy was so DIRTY. It was like porno sex. I was spanked, strangled, and bent like a pretzel—and I loved it! There were vibrators, fingers up asses (mine up his, no less!), and female ejaculation. There was hair-pulling and laughing and dirty talk. AND we did it twice. The only cons were that his dick was too big so it hurt in some positions, especially doggy-style, and also, dude was seriously as dumb as a rail. But shit, who cares! The verdict: As much as it pains me to say it, the white man wins again! Conclusion: Even though I had some fun, I have come to the realization that people are basically, for the most part, totally disgusting and the chances of ever meeting someone not completely retarded and/or vomitacious are so slim that if it ever happens I won't care if they have a penis or a vagina or a freakin' cheez doodle for a crotch. I guess I have learned three things: I am pretty fucked-up, I am probably bisexual, and I am quite possibly a racist. You know something? I can't decide which is worst. SARAH SMITH