Fifty-eight year-old retired construction worker Bill Graber from Ohio wants to be a lesbian. Tom MacMaster of Edinburgh Scotland wants to be a lesbian. Both of these fine upstanding literary blogispherical men were recently “outed” for being HETEROSEXUAL men. This proves the point that I’ve made all along: Everyone wants to be a lesbian, just like Lillian. Yes, (and don’t look at me that way) dear reader, I know the truth. You want to be a lesbian, too. There, we’ve said it. Go ahead, it’s time for tears of relief. Let go of your shock and dismay and please, please, no more therapy. YOU are just fine the way you are. I understand you. No one blames you for wanting to be a dyke, whether you are a full male, a neutered male or a female in any form. We have all been there, friend. Heck, before I knew I was a lesbian, I hung out as close to them as I could. I wanted to wipe their sweat with my handkerchief, bring them tall glasses of ice water and hang on their every word and smooth move. I learned everything I could about Birkenstocks, ear candles, Teva’s, organic potatoes, Doc Martins, good coffee, living with no electricity, camping in the woods and how to play sports. Well actually, I knew most everything I needed to know about sports. From softball, basketball, tennis, to football, track and even horseshoes, I played them all very well, and that was before I knew I was a dyke. You can learn from me, and it can be different for you, now that your desire to be a lesbian is out in the open. I can help you. Take notes. When you finish this article, go directly to your garage, dig out your bike, hit the local bike trail and pedal down to Cheap Thrills in Fayetteville. If you are female, you’re looking for boots. Not boots with 6-inch heels and spiky points on the toes, but leather motorcycle boots. These boots are made for walking and riding. You get it? Yes, you can dance in them, but they need to be heavy enough to ground you. As a lesbian, you need lots of earth contact, lots of grounding. If you are a real man, like Tom or Bill, you’re going to have to butch up a little to qualify to be a dyke. “But I’m a man!” you say. Yes, and do you really think that qualifies you to be a lesbian? I know plenty of dykes with more testosterone in their little toes (inside their leather motorcycle boots) than most of you blogger boys have in your entire … well, anyway, you get the picture? You men will have to work harder, in person, than you have ever worked in your entire life online. It’s much different being a dyke than it is pretending to be one on your silly little blogs. Boys, there are many, many lesbian imitators, but very few people, male or female, who can pull it off on a day-to-day basis. You can try it, but don’t be too surprised if you have no interest in owning your own set of sweaty breasts, hidden under plaid shirts, wearing big-butted utilitarian jeans, river sandals and having sex in the woods while being eaten alive by chiggers and ticks in the middle of July. I’m not saying it’s not the most exciting way to live your life. It is, by far. That’s why everyone wants to be like us. I personally have been the envy of everyone I have come in touch with or touched, but that’s another story. All I can say is this: Go for it! Try it for a month or two. Deny your lesbian tendencies no more. Male, female, construction worker, model, blogger, you know you want to be like us. I can help you. Love, Lillian
Everybody Wants To Join The Club
Over The Rainbow: June 30
Men pretending to be lesbians
This proves the point that I’ve made all along: Everyone wants to be a lesbian, just like Lillian. Yes, (and don’t look at me that way) dear reader, I know the truth. You want to be a lesbian, too.
There, we’ve said it. Go ahead, it’s time for tears of relief. Let go of your shock and dismay and please, please, no more therapy. YOU are just fine the way you are. I understand you. No one blames you for wanting to be a dyke, whether you are a full male, a neutered male or a female in any form. We have all been there, friend.
Heck, before I knew I was a lesbian, I hung out as close to them as I could. I wanted to wipe their sweat with my handkerchief, bring them tall glasses of ice water and hang on their every word and smooth move. I learned everything I could about Birkenstocks, ear candles, Teva’s, organic potatoes, Doc Martins, good coffee, living with no electricity, camping in the woods and how to play sports. Well actually, I knew most everything I needed to know about sports. From softball, basketball, tennis, to football, track and even horseshoes, I played them all very well, and that was before I knew I was a dyke.
You can learn from me, and it can be different for you, now that your desire to be a lesbian is out in the open. I can help you. Take notes.
When you finish this article, go directly to your garage, dig out your bike, hit the local bike trail and pedal down to Cheap Thrills in Fayetteville. If you are female, you’re looking for boots. Not boots with 6-inch heels and spiky points on the toes, but leather motorcycle boots. These boots are made for walking and riding. You get it? Yes, you can dance in them, but they need to be heavy enough to ground you. As a lesbian, you need lots of earth contact, lots of grounding.
If you are a real man, like Tom or Bill, you’re going to have to butch up a little to qualify to be a dyke. “But I’m a man!” you say. Yes, and do you really think that qualifies you to be a lesbian?
I know plenty of dykes with more testosterone in their little toes (inside their leather motorcycle boots) than most of you blogger boys have in your entire … well, anyway, you get the picture? You men will have to work harder, in person, than you have ever worked in your entire life online. It’s much different being a dyke than it is pretending to be one on your silly little blogs. Boys, there are many, many lesbian imitators, but very few people, male or female, who can pull it off on a day-to-day basis.
You can try it, but don’t be too surprised if you have no interest in owning your own set of sweaty breasts, hidden under plaid shirts, wearing big-butted utilitarian jeans, river sandals and having sex in the woods while being eaten alive by chiggers and ticks in the middle of July. I’m not saying it’s not the most exciting way to live your life. It is, by far. That’s why everyone wants to be like us.
I personally have been the envy of everyone I have come in touch with or touched, but that’s another story. All I can say is this: Go for it! Try it for a month or two. Deny your lesbian tendencies no more. Male, female, construction worker, model, blogger, you know you want to be like us. I can help you.
Love,
Lillian