2005
Bringing Back the Dead
Is there a cure for lesbian bed death? No. Sorry, hate to get your hopes up with the title only to ceremoniously crush them without even so much as a smidge of remorse. But dead is dead. Dead isn’t ‘sorta close to dead’ or ‘maybe dead.’ Dead is a done deal. That’s why it’s called ‘dead.’ See how that works?
The problem with lesbian bed death is that it is often misdiagnosed.
Here’s the deal. You meet someone. You’re horny. She’s horny. Ya do it all the time. You fall in luuuuuvvvv. How sweet. You call each other sweet names like ‘sugar lump dump’ and ‘sweetie pateetie puddin’ pie’ making everyone around you projectile vomit. You move in together and go grocery shopping together and then there’s the overtime at work and the sinus crud that left you sick as a dog for a week and her parents are driving you up the wall because everytime they call they say ‘oh, you’re there’ and then there’s Aunt Flo and she visits every fucking month! Oy! And then there’s the laundry and someone’s got to do the laundry and you thought it was her turn to do the laundry and she thinks it’s your turn and you think you do more around the house than she does and she thinks you spend too much at Homo Depot and you think she spends too much on clothes and someone’s gotta walk the damn dog!
Soooo, you get the laundry done and you go to work and you walk the dog and you balance your checkbook and you suffer through holidays with the family and you’ve got it all goin’ on but you forgot one little thing. ‘Oh yeah. The hot sex. Where did that go?’
Now if it was truly ‘bed death’ then you wouldn’t think a thing about it. Your reaction would be, ‘Meh.’ But you are not dead. No, no, no. You are still very much alive because your ‘hoo hoo’ just woke your sorry dyke ass up with a screaming rant to your brain, “HEEELLLOOOO. YOU HAVEN’T GOTTEN LAID IN MONTHS. DO YOU HEAR ME? CAN YOU HEAR ME?! WAKE UP!! YOOOO HOOOO, IT’S 11 O’CLOCK. DO YOU KNOW WHERE YOUR PUSSY IS? I’M RIGHT HERE AND I WANT TO GET FUCKED, LIKE, NOW. BIOTCH!!!’
Goodness, you’re alarmed. You are beside yourself. You go online and try to find any information you can about *da dun da dun da dun da dun* LESBIAN BED DEATH. So you find one of those online quizzes, “Answer these questions and find out which celebrity you are in the CELEBRITY LESBIAN BED OF DEATH!” So you answer the questions:
1. Do you put ketchup on your fries or on the side of your plate? (You answer ‘on the side’)
2. Would you rather be a garbage collector or a proctologist. (You’re all ‘ewww, neither’ so you pick garbage collector but then you pick proctologist but then you go back to garbage collector)
3. Would you rather have a paper cut in the corner of your mouth or between your fingers (You’re like ‘NOOOO. I DON’T WANT A PAPER CUT ANYWHERE!’ So you answer between your fingers, then you answer in the corner of your mouth then you go back to between your fingers.)
And so it goes and you finally get the results: ‘You are the Julie Cypher of Lesbian Bed Death. Your inability to decide what the hell you want has left you wrestling with your inner dyke who is telling you she needs to get laid but you don’t do anything about it.’
And you scream, “NOOOOO. Not Julie Cypher! Why, oh why Julie Cypher?’
Chances are it’s not a case of Lesbian Bed Death, it’s a case of ‘lack of imagination coupled with a serious lazy ass syndrome and lack of prioritization.’ In other words, if you put as much work into your sex life as you do into keeping your car running, you wouldn’t have to rely on internet quizzes and conjecture to figure out if you don’t use it you’re gonna lose it.
by Elizabeth
