Never A Love Like This Before

[via mymuffinroared]

How's it going, lezzers?

Ever since we moved into our apartment in Chicago, there's been all sorts of new noises to get used to.  

We had noises in Minneapolis, but it was nothing like here.  

Wailing sirens.  Car alarms.  Ukrainian church festivals having karaoke contests.  The kid downstairs screaming his 2-year-old head off in Yiddish.  ("Abba? Abba! ABBA!! AHHHHHH-BAAAAAA!!!!")  

Reggaeton blasting from cars with flapping Puerto Rican flags.  

The ice cream truck, which does a slow circle around the three bars on our block starting at 11 p.m. every night.  (It's actually awesome - the ice cream man, Ricky, will put whatever you're drinking into a milkshake on the spot.)

The junkman's truck rattles with a thousand glass bottles and broken bikes.  The baby next door cries.  All the dogs start barking and another police siren starts.

We've gotten used to it.

And underneath it all, at all times and at all hours of the night, there's always been a gentle, resonant sort of bell sound.

A quiet, calm sound.  It puts me to sleep.

I've always drifted off picturing large wooden ships pulling into harbor, a low bell clanging mournfully into the mist. 

I snuggle, safe and warm in my bed, wishing those sailors a safe journey home and godspeed.

Never mind that I live nowhere near water; that fact doesn't figure into my falling-asleep fantasy.  

I loved the bell noise.

You can imagine, then, how surprised I was to find a hidden train station four blocks from my house while taking a different route home on Tuesday.

Not a safe harbor. Not a peaceful lighthouse.

A Metra stop.

Full of Gatorade vending machines and men pissing onto the tracks.

Hmph.

Last week, I took the Metra up to Joliet, IL, and I brought a book along that I hadn't read for a really long time - The Sun Also Rises.

And whoa - sitting on the train in the sunlight with my feet slung over the armrests and the buildings and trees flashing by, reading The Sun Also Rises...suddenly it was like it was 6 years ago, and I was 21, riding the train in Italy to see my girlfriend. 

Lord god, did I have it bad.

I had just had lesbian sex for the first time, and I was faaaaairly sure I had invented it.  

I was travelling, I had nothing really whatsoever to do, I was reading too much Hemingway, spending too much time in cafes, and doing irritating "romantic" things like taking walks in the rain and feeling sorry for myself.  

[via hellogirls]

I was one of the Lost Generation.
Yeah.  
Discovering myself.  
I was in love, really in love with a girl and there had never been a love like this and it was pure and holy and not-at-all-about-me.  



[via tastelessnudes]

 I was obsessed.  OBSESSED.  

This girl was all I thought about.  All I wanted.  

I could have done without eating and friends and sleeping.  All I wanted was to be naked in bed with her and have her love me and we wouldn't need anything ever - it would be just the two of us and no one would understand or have ever loved the way we loved.

[via hipcumon]

Our own private little club. 

I loved her obsessively.  

[via implode]

And that's what I want to talk about today, homos.

The sliiiiiight tendency, in lesbians, towards obsession.  

Don't act like it's just me!

Haven't you ever been obsessed with a girl?  

Not just in love with her, but obsessed to the point where Garbage's "I Would Die For You" is a song you can identify with?

I guess it could just be me, but...I know enough dykes to think obsession is pretty common among our kind. 

I think it happens more often when we're very young.  
You meet a girl and lose yourself in her.  
Every. single. thing she does is beautiful.  
You're a little confused.
  
You're not sure if you want to fuck her or be her or just watch her from a distance.

(by Martijn S.)

You want to watch her hold a cigarette.  You want to stare at her mouth when she talks.  You love the way she dresses. 
You love having sex with her but you know your love is purer than sex.  

[via annacarli]

You constantly think about what she's thinking about.  You're certain there is no way she could ever love you the way you love her.

And she feels the same way.

[via thedepravity]

And you become obsessed with one another.

And it gets...icky.

Later, when you get a few years older, you look at that period of your life and go, "Ew."

Seriously, ew.  

I have whole journals full of incredibly shitty poems about my first girlfriend.

*NERD ALERT!* Here's the key to my diary.  Let's flip to a random page from 2004, shall we?

Holy fuck.  


I was a lesbian, and I was in love. 

Obsession ain't pretty.  
Here's another.  Jesus.
Do you like the jagged edges?  
Jagged like my heart.

Whole years of my life were given over to the worship of a hot piece.  

Did you guys go through this?  Tell me you went through this. Otherwise I am going to be seriously humiliated.  

Most of my lesbian friends have been obsessed with a woman at some point in their careers as carpet-munchers.

[via hipcumon]

But I dunno.  Maybe obsession isn't all bad and vomit-inducing.  Maybe it's an important step on the ladder of being a self-sufficient young dyke.  

Maybe obsession teaches us about ourselves.  Maybe you don't have boundaries with certain girlfriends so you can learn where your boundaries actually are.

The dark side, of course, being...what if you never learn to have good boundaries?  What if that all-engrossing obsessive tendency of your youth turns ugly?

It could lead to being an actual, grown-up lesbian, driving past the object of your obsession's house at 3 in the morning.  Or calling her just to hear her voice on the message.  Staring creepily at your crush in the coffee shop.  

[via thebeautifulyouth]

Or stalking her on Facebook.  

Lesbians, I'm a little embarrassed that I'm writing about this at all, and not all queergirls have been through this, so I just want to know...


Have you been obsessed?


How old were you?

Did you write atrocious poetry and then cry when you read it over, alone in your room?  'Cause I totally didn't.

How did it end?  Did you consume each other in the fiery flames of your obsessive love?  Or did you just...fizzle out?

Tell me about your obsession, tricks.  


I showed you my diary.