Kalah Allen
Confessions of a Lesbian Sell-Out

To every lesbian in the city of Portland (and especially those I slept with):

I'm sorry. I've taken advantage of you. For three years, I shaved my head, owned a dog (well, actually, I still own a dog), and wore strap-ons with the best of you. But here's my confession: You were an experiment. I always suspected I couldn't stay a dyke forever, but I drew it out for as long as possible because the girls I dated were so much... well... more supportive, understanding, and attentive than boys. The problem was, I never really liked sex with women. Or at least, I never liked it as much as I do with men. But I can't lie anymore, I need heterosexual sex too much. I'M NOT A LESBIAN! Okay, there, I said it. Not only that, but now that I'm straight again, I have long hair. I wear skirts. Hell, I even wear lipstick. In fact, I might even get married someday. See, as much as I'd like to keep supporting you despite my love for men, I've realized that being gay is way harder than I thought it would be. My parents got mad at me. My sister quit talking to me. My coworkers started making carpet-munching jokes about me. I'm genuinely sorry I led you on, dear sisters, but I admit it, not sorry enough to stand by you. I used you. I abused you. I'll see you later.--Anonymous