thelesbianlifestyle.com

One day, a couple of weeks ago, I had a craving for chocolate chip cookies. It was one of those intense food urges, the kind that’s on your mind all day and won’t resolve itself until you give in to the craving. And, indeed, this was one of those urges, because half a pack of cigarettes later, I still wanted chocolate chip cookies.

I went to the convenience store down the street from my then apartment and bought a box of soft batch chocolate chip cookies. Now, I have to admit, I was a little excited. The thing I had been craving all day long was finally in my grasp. So when I got home, I poured myself a tall glass of milk, opened the box, and prepared myself for savory cookie goodness. I picked up the first cookie, brought it to my mouth, and took a bite. Delicious cookie heaven.

Or not.

There was no enjoyment, no savoring, no baked good bliss. The craving was still there. So I had another cookie, and another one, and another one. And nothing. I was still craving chocolate chip cookies. But I had the cookies. I wanted the cookies and I had them.

So why was I left so unsatisfied?

And then it hit me. These were not the cookies that I wanted. These were not the cookies that I craved. These cookies were store-bought. What I wanted was homemade. Homemade cookies - that’s what I craved.

And I remember thinking, “I should have homemade cookies. I should have someone to bake me cookies.” And that thought left me with a “huh” kind of feeling. What was it that I really wanted? Was it the cookies or was it having someone in my life who would bake me cookies?

And in all my realization I found it to be true, that yes, I want a cookie-baking someone in my life. And not only that but I want to be a cookie-baking someone for somebody too. As a former culinary student, I know the care and effort that goes in to making the perfect chocolate chip cookie, and I want that care and effort. I want to give that, I want to receive that, I just need that.

So I made a list, one of all the people that brought out the cookie-baking side of me. And when I was done, I looked at the list and frowned. All the names, they belonged to people that would never bake me cookies. They couldn’t. It’s just not who they are. And that’s my fault.

I don’t know any lesbians. I’ve met a few for certain, but I don’t have any in my life as of current. And it dawned on me that the reason I keep falling for straight girls is because they’re the only kind of girl that I know.

Well, screw that.

There’s this giant part of my life, of who I am, that’s been laying in wait for years. And it’s not that I’ve denied it, it’s more that I’ve neglected it. I’ve been too busy worrying about making friends than about making friends who actually understand me. So that’s why I’m here. I’m done being a dormant dyke.

I’m Digger, I’m a lesbian, and I’m ready to bake some cookies.

by Digger