Unsuper: A Story of a Straight Lesbian

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One of my straight friends tells me that she was thinking of inviting another woman into her marriage bed as a birthday present for her husband. My mother, who is more-or-less a typical Kuwaiti woman of her age is constantly commenting on this actress’s ass and that actress’s breasts. I, on the other hand, am still uncomfortable expressing affection to a lot of the women in my life. I flirt with everyone but the women I find attractive.

I recently realized I might be the straightest gay girl in the world.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I don’t mean I am someone who is in denial about being gay. Or even someone who is straight and is pretending to be gay. It’s just that I think I am a bad lesbian. Can you be a bad lesbian? Fail at homosexuality? She’s a baaad lesbian, you might as well throw her out. Is there a rule of thumb? A measure of what makes you a good or bad lesbian?

I don’t know. The only thing I do know for a fact is that I am attracted to women, and that I could never feel for any man what I feel for a women.

I think men are awesome, fun, hilarious, good friends, kind of offensive but no more than I can be, and not my cup of tea. Women on the other hand? They are definitley my cup of tea. They are my cup of hot chocolate on a cold winter night.

Women are everything to me. Women are beautiful, frustrating, mysterious, scary, consuming, soft, confusing, intense and interesting. They smell good, they’re smart, and they make me melt inside. Women are undefinable.

So why haven’t I been with a woman? I don’t know. I’m scared. I haven’t found the right one. I haven’t had the chance. I don’t have the confidence to approach women.I have religious reservations. I have cultural reservations. I am a Kuwaiti girl raised in a more-or-less traditional Kuwaiti household.

My family are close, loving, supportive, xenophobic, homophobic and traditionalistic. All my life I have grown up with the implication that my family’s honor is my responsibility. Anything and everything I say or do can play havoc with that honor. Everything I am, my lips, my hair, my skin, my words, my secretly-held beliefs, my walk, my clothes, every part of me held the key to the destruction of the universe.

It’s not easy growing up as a ticking timebomb. It’s not easy growing up as a Kuwaiti girl.

I’m not saying look at me, poor little me, traumatized by my horrible family. Not at all. My family has always been lovely and loving to me, if a little… overprotective. Growing up, I didn’t think I was dangerous at all. I just thought I should be polite. Respectable. Modestly dressed. Avoid boys. Smart. Hardworking. Honest. Agreeable. Inoffensive. Pleasing. But not to the wrong people.

Now over time, I have studied the values instilled in me by my family. Kept some, discarded others, picked up new ones. Believe it or not, I don’t even hate gay people! I am even somewhat comfortable in my own skin. I’m out to a lot of people I know. I’m out on twitter. Not just as gay, but as me. I am even irreverent and somewhat obscene.


I have never been on a date. I’ve never told a girl I loved her. I’ve never touched a girl in anyting other than friendship.

You see, despite everything I say and do, I don’t think I ever really stopped believing that I held the key to the destruction of the universe inside of me.

Contributed by UnsuperDyke

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