A Little Bit Lesbian
I love the ladies. There, I’ve admitted it. I’ve said it out loud and I’m not ashamed. Stop! I know what you’re thinking. Take your mind out of the gutter! Erase mental images of me dominating some delicate chick half my size. The Super likes men with muscles. I’m curious about the bulge behind Adam’s fig leaf but still convinced that Eve is the best example of God’s creativity. Many don’t agree. Some women don’t like women. If their best friend is drowning they will throw the single life raft to the dude they met yesterday at the DMV. No matter the length or strength of the relationship as long as there is a man in the picture the friendship cannot survive. Loving the ladies has nothing to do with sex.
I’m not, nor have I ever been a Spice Girl, but I believe in Girl Power. I don’t relate to women who are convinced that they’re nothing without a boo, a beau or a main squeeze—those that seek validation from men and have no sense of their own worth. The Super is exceptional and I accept that there will always be women who will hate me because I’m me. I don’t apologize. To me it’s better to think that I’m the Shit than to feel only slightly better than the dark smears on the ground. Feeling less is easy; feeling extraordinary takes an effort. Sometimes we need our female friends to lift us up, pick us up and help us rise. Are the women of the rainbow the only ones that agree? Are Oprah and Gayle the only proof that being a little bit lesbian never hurt anybody? Tell me, where my girls at?