OK, so maybe this has less to do with being a lesbian. and more to do either with mental illness, or a lack of imagination...but I found myself in a funny conversation the other night.
I may or may not have been discussing sexual role playing...and whether or not that "works" for me.
I suppose given the right scenario, that could be kind of hot. I had a few questions, and then a few suggestions.
I know several of my "straight" friends who have told me a few stories...you know...
"Ok...I'm a hitchhiker, and you pick me up along a dark road..." or "I'm a housewife, and you're the cable guy who shows up during the available blocks of time between 9-11am, or 1-3pm sometime in March.."
I have a friend who is a nurse, and her boyfriend is a doctor. Apparently, they play...uh...a doctor and a nurse.
That's cray cray. That must be a huge acting stretch.
"I'm not a doctor, but I play one on T.V. No wait, I AM a doctor..."
So, anyway, I got to thinking about two women-and how you might have to be a bit more creative-given that the roles aren't just instantly gender specified.
I asked my...uh..."special friend"..if we were allowed to have costumes or props.
"Well, I don't see why not." she said.
I thought about it for a while, while eyeballing the ceramic squirrel in my room.
"Ok, I got one..." I said breathily.
"What is it?" she asked with smoldering anticipation.
"I'm a veterinary lab technician, and you're a dental hygienist assistant. I'm bringing in a rescue squirrel who has a toothache."
She blinked at me.
I grabbed my squirrel off my nightstand, and continued my creative elaborations...
"He's going to need some kind of teeth to make this work. Do you have any chiclets?"
She gently told me (after informing me that, no, she she didn't have any chiclets), that she didn't really see how that scenario could develop into something sexy...even though I had offered to forget the squirrel prop. I told her we could just imagine maybe a gerbil, or a turtle, or something...and she suggested I try another scenario ENTIRELY, even though I had kind of liked that one.
Whatever.
So, I tried again.
"Ok...I'm the Wal-Mart greeter, and you're the fry girl at the in-store McDonald's."
She again looked at me blankly, with just a hint of concern.
So, I went on...
"Welcome to Wal-Mart, you beautiful and smoking hot McDonald's employee whom I have never in my life met before..."
I waited, but she was silent. So, I tried to help.
"Now, you tell me to be careful, because the fries are hot...oh, so....hot..."
She shook her head.
'No? Ok, you make one up. Show me how it's done, smarty pants."
I think at this point she was just kind of stunned (perhaps a little frightened), and our conversation wandered to considering some actual jobs we had had in our lives. She told me how she had worked at some fancy interior design studio as a "Fabric Librarian" (No, REALLY), and I told her how I had worked at Subway during my undergrad years, back when they used to slice the tops off of the loaves of bread like a boat-which you would fill with sandwich makings and then replace the top. We referred to ourselves as, "Sandwich Artists."
So, we considered the possibilities.
"How do you propose that these two might come together?" she asked tentatively, "I mean, somehow they have to end up in the same room for this to work."
"Well," I repled, "I could come into your studio to deliver a sandwich and ask to see your swatches."
Silence again.
"You know...I could walk in and say, 'Hello, there...I have your 6-inch tuna on wheat. Can you show me your swatches? Do you have anything in a....Seafoam Green?'" I was trying to use my best sexy voice, emphasizing the word 'seafoam'.
I could see she was trying really hard to get on board with this (bless her heart).
"Only interior designers are allowed to see my swatches..." she said slowly. "I could take you in the back...but, I could get...fired."
"Oh, you are such a bad, bad girl."
After a moment, she just shook her head again, but I kept going.
"Ok...so maybe instead you could come into Subway on your lunch break."
I think here is where she just started messing with me.
"Hi! Welcome to subway! What can I get you, you beautiful and smoking hot customer whom I have never, ever seen before in my whole life?"
Her voice had decidedly lost it's breathy tone as she placed her imaginary order.
"Yeah, um, I'll take a six inch BMT with everything on it."
I could tell she was losing her enthusiasm, but I wasn't going to be deterred.
"Are you sure you wouldn't be interested in a....footlong...they are only five dollars...for a limited time..."
I think she rolled her eyes at that one.
"Yeah, Ok. Fine. Whatever."
"And what kind of bread would you like your footlong on?"
She just looked at me, totally amused and finally replied, "I don't know. Why don't you tell me about the kinds of breads that you have?"
I jumped on the chance to elaborate, because I am all about detail.
"I'm so glad you are interested in my bread complexities. Perhaps I can utilize my keenly developed sense of sandwich artistry and make a well-informed and highly trained suggestion for you..." I could see she was about to laugh, but I continued on. "You look like an Italian Herb and Spices kind of girl...I could...toast it for you..."
"Look, I only have 45 minutes for lunch. I really don't think this is going to work...I don't think I'm ever going to get a sandwich at this pace..."
Yeah. I could totally see her point. Maybe role-playing just isn't my strong suit. Ultimately, we just decided to be ourselves, which totally works for me...maybe it's just easier for the heterosexuals.
I think my ceramic squirrel is so relieved.
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