A Lesbian Sip: Defining Moments by Giselle Renarde

Can I tempt you with a lesbian Sip?

Defining Moments
by Giselle Renarde

Devra remembers the exact moment she realized she was a lesbian. When she talks to her girlfriend Priti about growing up as a child of the eighties, she's flooded by memories of pretending to be just like all the other girls. Devra's known she was different nearly forever, but what about Priti? Even now, sleeping with Devra every night, she refuses to identify as a lesbian. Will a war of words ruin their cozy winter evening together?

Sample

There were certain conversations that never took place in the summertime. The sun might pride herself as the great elucidator, but winter was the season of humble introspection. When outside it was bitterly cold, what else was there to do but curl up in bed together, to kiss and touch and writhe in unison, then bask in the warmth of each other's bodies?

When snowflakes like cotton balls fell from the sky, Devra wrapped her arms and a fleecy blanket around Priti's shoulders and kissed her hair. Sighing, Priti rolled onto her back and gazed out the window. The streetlights made the falling snow glow bright white against a backdrop of blue.

"How did you know you liked girls?" Priti asked.

Devra was somewhat amazed the topic had never come up before. "You mean when did I first know?" she clarified.

"Yeah. Did you have a Eureka moment where you were like, 'Aha! I'm a lesbian?'"

She recognized it was meant to be a joke, but Devra ruminated nonetheless. "Not exactly. I mean, yes, sort of, but I wouldn't have used those words at that time."

"Why not?" Priti asked, then continued without waiting for an answer. "Because you didn't want to be pigeonholed or grouped into somebody else's narrow definition of sexual identity?"

Devra propped up her head with the palm of her hand. "No. Because I was five."

Author Extra:

As Priti cuddled her cheek against Devra’s shoulder, Devra reflected on
childhood hours spent in front of the TV. Every Friday night, Dad would
fire up the VCR. They’d eat pizza and pop and chips -- all special treats
-- and the whole family would watch the same set of animated classics.

“I never knew why,” she told Priti, “but something always bugged me about
those movies: the brave prince, the useless princess, the heteromance… it
all made me feel a bit nauseous.”

“Nauseous?” Priti giggled and nuzzled Devra’s neck. “That’s silly. I
learned English from those movies. I still like them.”

How could someone Devra loved so deeply have such lousy taste? She drew a
long breath to figure out exactly what she was trying to say. “Even when I
was a little kid, I watched those happily-ever-after prince-and-princess
movies and I knew that wasn’t everybody’s story. I remember turning to my
parents one time and saying, ‘Not everybody is like that.’ They didn’t know
what the hell I was talking about, of course, so they asked, ‘Not
everybody’s like what?’ But at that age, I didn’t know what I meant either.
I didn’t know what a lesbian was yet, I just knew I didn’t want to be that
princess or grow up to marry that prince.”

“I wanted to be a princess,” Priti said. “I wanted to be rich and wear long
silk gowns, and get presents and dance all night.”

Even if Priti’s words were true, Devra didn’t want to hear them. She
especially didn’t want to hear the answer to her next question, but she
asked it anyway: “What about the prince? Was there a prince in your little
girl fantasy?”

Priti looked away quickly, and shrugged her shoulders just as fast. “I
wanted to be the princess. Every princess marries a prince.”