The Rubbish Lesbian by Sarah Westwood

The Rubbish Lesbian by Sarah Westwood

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The Rubbish Lesbian

How rubbish can you get as a lesbian? Well, to be a honest there is no fine blue print out there for any neophyte to wrap their heads around, as to how to be a lesbian. I, for one, don’t have any idea as to how it is, except that I am attracted to women and I just couldn’t help to appreciate such specimen of beauty. Perhaps the heavens were listening to my minor predicament that I found a book entitled ”The Rubbish Lesbian”, which I am currently reading. It is written by Sarah Westwood, a DIVA magazine columnist (Diva, is one of the popular lesbian magazines in United Kingdom).

I stumbled on her book when I attended a reading event which featured her work. Having able to experience first hand of her reading some excerpts with such lovely British accent was titillating enough (not in a perverted kind of way) for me to be interested in getting a copy. I’m currently a few pages down and so far the book hasn’t failed my attention span, which most of the time erratic.

The Rubbish Lesbian
The Rubbish Lesbian

I would like to share an excerpt from the book.

Some things are best left unsaid, particularly over a coffee and pancakes with your straight friends. “I’m sleeping with your husband”. “You have an ugly baby”. Or, if you are a rubbish lesbian like me, ‘my girlfriend last night….”

Before I became the rubbish lesbian I am today, I was a very proficient straight girl. I had regular girlie brunches with my other straight friends and the subject of sex often came up. No subject was deemed too personal or private. No cheek left unturned. Girls just love to talk about sex.

So why is that now I’m a lesbian there’s no sex chat?

It’s as if I have been literally struck dumb. Clammed up. When the subject of sex comes up, I slink back in my chair hoping no one will pick me. I have no problem doing ‘it’, so why do I dry up when it comes to talking about sex with girls?

Firstly, I’m embarrassed. It feels different now – both the sex and the talk. Also, I don’t feel equipped. I have an impotent struggle for the right words but nothing comes out. I’m worried I might sound like a straight porn star. ‘Pussy’ just doesn’t come naturally. Worse still, I might sound like a man. If I say, ‘’She’s got great tits!’ they’ll accuse me of objectifying women (which of course I would be). I also worry about using words they’ve never heard before. Words that might give away my difference, the fact I am a lesbian. They might start viewing me differently – no longer one of the girls.

Inevitably, on a drunken night someone will corner me for ‘the truth.’ Come on, what’s it really like to have sex with a woman? Still I give them a muted version. Not forthright, not shocking — not convincing.

Why? Am I trying to spare their embarrassment or mine?

Maybe the truth is I don’t want to open Pandora’s box. Part of the joy of talking about having ‘straight’ sex is how hit and miss it can be. There’s great camaraderie in the battle tales, a whole lexicon dedicated to disappointment. That’s something we can all get behind, laugh about and bond over. So imagine the reaction to my true tales of what happened last night: not laughing, not bonding, just stunned silence.

The truth? They can’t handle the truth. The sex was really good.

For more cool articles like this, please visit Rubbish Lesbian.


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