Wingardium Lesbianosa


Last week on Nobody Scissors: Me and Shmashley started dating and I finally did the sex (no we didn’t scissor).

I kept my relationship with Shmashley a secret for as along as possible. By this I mean, I didn’t outright tell anyone that I was in a lesbian relationship but everybody knew because I was a flaming homosexual before I was even a homosexual. It might have taken me a few years to morph into a my final form, but I was gay as the day is long (Courtney was responsible for putting a funny joke here and failed miserably).

Courtney started getting suspicious about my new relationship from the very beginning. I could be seen constantly on my phone, always running late to class while walking close enough to touch hands with Shmashley but never actually held hands, and we even sometimes stuck our hands in each other’s pants in the back of our comparative religion class when the lights were off (I might have been saying Jesus’ name a lot under my breath during those days). You’ll soon find out that public sex will become something of a favorite of mine in later years *sorry mom*.

*Theme music and opening credits play*

When I finally came out and told Courtney (no pun intended) about my relationship she was incredibly hateful. I mean not like Westboro Baptist Church hateful but like normal Baptist Church hateful, not like Satan himself hateful, but like the rude guy at the coat check in Hell hateful. Courtney’s general distaste for “the whole gay thing” was either because she was extremely closeted herself or due to the fact that she outright hated Shmashley’s pretentious guts–maybe even a combination of those two facts, but whatever the reason was, it was devastating. Honestly, Courtney fucking hated Shmashley, she made Voldemort’s hatred of Harry Potter look like a fairy tale best friendship.

It should be noted that Shmashley’s parents were incredibly homophobic and she was committed to two-a-day practices for swim team so our time really was terribly limited. Things continued in this tension-filled homophobic limbo for a couple months with Courtney and our best friend at the time ignoring me while I continued to sneak around in the entirely too compact backseat of a hotter than hell Kia for some quality lesbian time.(Who fucking owns a Kia anyway??) Is this what being gay was like? Was I setting myself up for a lifetime and hatred and ostracization? (uh, well, kinda).

Ironically it turned out that most of my twin’s resentment toward my relationship was pent up frustration in that she was indeed in the closet herself, and once she found a girlfriend her opinion changed drastically (getting laid will do that to a person). Courtney was just a slightly slower bloomer when it came to coming into her own gayness, but not too far behind since it only took her two months to start dating her first girlfriend after me. Luckily for me, Courtney wasn’t too proud to apologize and see the error of her ways. Or maybe she just couldn’t stand being that much of a hypocrite. Either way, things got better (even though Courtney still really fucking hated Shmashley).  I no longer had to live in the closet when it came to my twin sister since we were now occupying that space together and boy was it cramped.

*Tune in next time for (possibly) the most anticlimactic coming out of all time*


You Look A Lot Like My First Girlfriend

Last week on Nobody Scissors: I got my first taste of the games girls like to play and oh yeah, Shmary has a girlfriend.

It took me much longer than I would like to admit to have the self-respect necessary to tell Shmary I wasn’t gonna be her side-chick anymore. I mean she was wicked hot and I was awkward as hell, so this seemed like as good as it might get for me. We continued our sneaking around for some time, but her girlfriend seemed to be going nowhere. The girlfriend went to another school in our district notorious for being full of lesbians…. I imagined that the intercoms played nothing but Tegan and Sara in between classes, their mascot was Sappho, the substitute teachers played the L word on movie days, and they probably were fully educated in their sex-ed classes on where to find the clitoris. Looking back I realize that “full of lesbians” back then in Central Texas probably just meant they had more than one out lesbian walking their halls, but to my over-imaginative mind that school was like the Isle of Lesbos (and I kinda wanted an invite).

*Theme music and opening credits play*

Our “romance” fizzled out, and by that I mean we kept flirting and touching and laying all over each other but we stopped kissing. l know! Bummer. I was starting to think I would be forever alone, being that I was 16-years-old and I hadn’t even touched a boob yet! (I had touched a penis once but that’s a whole other story, and not nearly as exciting. I mean, handjobs are the worst, I think we can ALL agree on that one).

But then out of nowhere a new girl was right under my nose! And by that I mean she literally sat in front of me in my junior English Class. She had curly hair, freckles, the body of a greek god, and always smelled like chlorine. Her name was Shmashley and she was even more awkward than me, but kind of hot in her own way (Courtney pipes in: eh…. debatable). She also was really smart, but not in a sexy way, more so in a “I’m gonna talk down to you and make you feel like you’re an idiot and know nothing about anything sort of way.” (Courtney chimes in again: yea, she’s the worst) I’m not really sure, maybe I was into that whole mean-hot thing back then, maybe I was just clueless. Anyway she held my hand one day during a movie in that English class and suddenly we were dating. That’s how it works right?

Except not really, I mean I wasn’t that lame. We hung out in the varsity locker room a lot, talked about sports, books, and most importantly music. The first time we ever went on a date was to this terrible dive bar that doubled as a music venue to see a couple of bands we both liked. There was a mosh pit (I hate those) and alcohol (we couldn’t drink) and Shmashley was sick as a dog so she was sweating all over me (yum). However the highlight of the show was that one of the songs sang about a “Shmashley” and I sang to her (poorly) which I guess she thought was cute and asked me if I was going to ask her out already.

Fast forward a couple weeks and we are dating, and hanging out in the backseat of her Kia Rio in our high school parking lot. It was at least 175 degrees inside the car, and there was enough room for a teacup poodle to stretch out semi-comfortably in the back seat. We had 30 minutes of our 45 minute lunch break left so this is exactly as sexy as it sounds. This was it, the moment I was going to lose my virginity. I had never seen a vagina before (okay, I had seen my own, and I had googled a bit, but I had never seen a REAL LIVE vagina before) and I didn’t know what to do with my hands. I just started low-fiving her between the legs and surprisingly that didn’t really do it for her. However, after some momentary nervous fumbling I found my rhythm like the gynecological genius that I was born to be.

28 minutes later we were red-faced and panting, sprinting to our next period class smelling vaguely like sweat, sex, and chlorine. When I walked into the classroom and locked eyes with Courtney I knew I wouldn’t be able to hide in the closet from her for long, we shared a room after all *throws quarter in dad joke jar.*

*Tune in next time for my gay-twin is kinda homophobic?*

Queerly Beloved Youths of America


Last week on Nobody Scissors: The whole school found out about me and Shmary and now I guess I’m kind of gay? Who knows?

You know how in teen romance movies the girl like leaves her hand super close to the boy’s hand and there’s all this tension and she’s willing him with all her might to touch her hand during the movie they’re watching? I feel like my early lesbian dating experiences were more or less that. That was my shit.

Let me sit next to you and rest my forearm against yours. How’s that for you? Good? Cause I’m wet as Niagara Falls from this minimal amount of epidermal contact, let me tell you.

*Theme music and opening credits play*

Okay maybe not quite that drastic… except it totally was. Early lesbian me thought being a lesbian was about going to batting cages and giving butterfly kisses. Current queer me, well, if we are talking we best be fucking. Early lesbian me would be really shocked by the antics current me gets up to, but, y’know, something is to be said about being young and innocent. Pre-Lesbian me was unspoiled and untainted by the greater world, there was a whimsy to the early lesbian years that I look back on and can’t even see as a part of my current lifetime.

Shmary and I continued our innocent romps. Sneaking off to locker rooms at basketball games, stealing kissing on the bus, cuddling at team sleepovers. Any chance we got to be alone we took it, but we never took it any further than touching and kissing… I’m not sure why? 50 years down the road I could picture Shmary and I sitting on a porch making out, having never crossed into further sexual territory. I could make out with this girl for a lifetime and be content with it. Sex never even occurred to me. (I know, I can’t believe that just came out of my mouth either).

Also my idea of lesbian sex was some terrible thing I’d heard of called “scissoring” and logistically speaking I didn’t think that I was flexible enough for that– I can’t even touch my toes. Also what the hell is a g-spot? Is the clitoris on the inside? Sexual education had failed me, as it had failed all of those who had come before me in the public education system, and as it has especially failed all of the queerly beloved youths of America.

I remember one particular incident in the locker room where she and I were skipping our fifth period class after lunch, flirting and messing around. Who needs geometry anyway? Let me tell you I have never needed to know what an isosceles triangle is. Not once. I do know that two acute angles go into scissoring though *scissoring hand gesture* especially if they’re two a-cute girls. *tosses quarter in the dad joke jar* Shmary took out a marker and began writing on the white board next to the lockers that the coaches often used for pre-game strategizing. There was something I found oddly attractive about watching her write in her awkward left-handed way, her hand trailing behind her letters, half-erasing the words as she wrote them. This was all very arousing (I can’t explain my lust for lefties) until I actually read what she was writing.


-Too smart
-not Mexican (?)

Those first five threw me. Like… those couldn’t all be bad qualities, right? And that last one… well I couldn’t really help that, but I loved enchiladas, had a decent Spanish accent from growing up in South Central Texas for my entire life, and I could tolerate a medium-hot salsa.

So there I was, hanging my head and totally confused by my crush asking me to skip class and touching me and batting her eyelashes then listing all my “cons” on the wall before me. I felt my ego deflating (one of my least favorite feelings), so you’d imagine my surprise when I felt her shoving me against the lockers and putting her tongue into my mouth. Was this what playing hard to get meant? I had no idea what was going on but I didn’t think I liked it. Luckily I didn’t have much time to contemplate the meaning of this interaction before the cross-country coach came storming in and banished us back to class. (Not sure how we got out of trouble in that scenario, we were clearly attached at the mouth when she walked in on us. Maybe she chalked it up to teenage antics. Girls will be girls. Amiright?)

After this list interaction I decided to make my own list, in an attempt to mend my pride and level the playing field. There had to be things I didn’t like about Shmary, I wasn’t a total shmuck (who even says that?).


-Supermodel tall
-Whose eyes are that color?? 
-She smells too good… that’s witchcraft or something
-Her handwriting isn’t THAT cute
-She wears leggings as pants sometimes 


Oh did I forget to mention that? (This is going to be a pattern later on in my life, my type will always be: unavailable).

*Tune in next time when I finally get a girlfriend. OMG.*