Teenage Lesbian Love Stories
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Teenage Lesbian Love Stories
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"Out of the millions of people on the internet, the fact that we found each other has led me to believe that fate does indeed exist."
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As a teenager, I was never one to daydream about my fantasy wedding, nor was I invested in the idea of “true love” as idealized by Disney movies and romantic comedies. While my friends lapped that stuff up, I just wanted to spit it out. What I actually wanted to do was admit to myself who I really was. I repressed my sexuality not only because I was scared of my family and friends’ reactions to me being gay, but because I felt that it would be somehow "wrong" for me to be a lesbian. I was suffocating under the pressure I put on myself.
For almost 10 years, I oscillated wildly between confusion and fear in regards to my sexuality, wrapping myself in lies as I went along. Being “too busy” for a boyfriend was my go-to reply when friends asked me why I wasn’t dating anyone. I dodged questions like that for far too long.
In the spring of 2016, still chronically sad, I became an insomniac. I had begrudgingly accepted that I was, in fact, a lesbian, and spoken to a few girls on dating apps to find a sense of comfort in my sexuality. But trying to find love online, especially while grappling with the full-time job of hiding my sexuality from the outside world, seemed to be futile. I wasn’t feeling a strong physical attraction to anyone, for starters, and I was admittedly still struggling to accept myself. So I surrendered to my insecurities and decided that being in love was simply not something I was born to experience. My newfound cynicism inspired me to write dark, self-reflective fiction, and I started posting my work to a Tumblr blog I curated during my waking hours — 9 a.m. to 4 a.m.
I was shocked that people on Tumblr seemed to enjoy my writing, but far more astonishing was that one follower was a fairly popular user whose blog I had long admired. All I actually knew about the owner of said blog was that she was also a lesbian, and judging by her profile picture and occasional selfies, was ridiculously cute. She fast became my first real, non-celebrity, 100% confirmed lesbian crush — but I had never spoken a word to this girl in my life.
I knew that even if nothing came of this, I at least wanted to give it a shot.
A few weeks later , I received a private message from her.
Whatever short sentence she wrote me is now a blur. What I do remember is blushing in front of my computer screen, my heart racing, and feeling a familiar sense of embarrassment over the extent to which I liked this mysterious person. I literally had nervous sweats. But I tried to keep calm, and plucked up the courage to send her a reply.
She told me her name was Alyssa, that she was 21 years old and lived in Texas. Texas. I lived on the south coast of the United Kingdom, a whole 4678 miles away. Incredibly deflated, I tried to shatter the hesitant daydreams I crafted over the weeks I had spent endlessly scrolling her blog. Instead, I mused about how pretty Alyssa’s name sounded and welcomed days spent in almost constant dialogue with her.
As I gleaned from her Tumblr posts, Alyssa was intelligent, cultured, and kind. Days after our initial exchange, I accidentally hit the video call button on Snapchat (I swear it was a mistake!); to my surprise, she accepted the call and I was suddenly face-to-face with her in real time. She offered a nervous “hi” in the American accent I’d longed to hear. When our eyes met, we both quickly looked away. Then, Alyssa shyly tucked a strand of shoulder-length blonde hair behind her ear while the corner of her mouth turned upward. My heart blew up.
We talked for four hours that night — until the sun was rising on my side of the world. For the first time, I felt completely unashamed of my sexuality. I felt safe with Alyssa in a way that I never had with anyone else. My whole being felt at ease, and I was warm and happy in conversation with her. Alyssa looked happy too, and as I fell asleep at dawn, I knew that even if nothing came of this, I at least wanted to give it a shot.
Alyssa and I continued to speak every day via FaceTime and text. Then, on August 9, 2016, Alyssa officially became my long-distance girlfriend. By the time we finally met in London the following March, we had endured a 280-day-long wait since we first met online.
Seeing Alyssa for the first time was surreal. We had discussed the possibility of our bond simply not translating from the screen to real life, but as soon as we hugged I knew that everything was going to be alright. Alyssa was just as beautiful as she appeared on FaceTime, and I couldn’t believe that she — that any of this — was real. From the quick first kiss we shared on a street corner outside of Starbucks to the way she laughed as I tried to not spill my nacho dip at the pub, it all felt perfect.
Two days after Alyssa flew home, I had no choice but to come out to my family when my mother guessed that there was “something going on” between me and Alyssa. Having met Alyssa briefly and only as my “friend,” my family took some time to process the fact that she was my girlfriend, but they were supportive. I ended up spending the entire summer in Texas with Alyssa and her family before I moved to New Jersey for the fall semester. I was lucky enough to see Alyssa every few weeks.
After spending the summer together , living so many miles apart became much more difficult. Money always dictated the frequency of our visits. Time inched by when we were apart, yet flew past when we were together. We cried on FaceTime a lot — we missed each other; we were lonely. At the same time, we held tight to the notion that distance was making our relationship stronger, and that compared to this, we’d be able to deal with whatever should come our way in the future. Even on days when the pain felt unbearable, we vowed to make the miles count and build each other back up.
Although it felt like forever, it wasn’t terribly long before we were together again — Alyssa was accepted to pursue her master’s degree at my university in the U.K. the following January. After months of sacrificing our time, money, and sleep (working with a time difference isn’t easy), we were both elated by the acceptance email that gave us our chance at a real future together. Long distance did in fact make us stronger and more grateful for the little things, like napping together and being able to actually kiss each other, and together we are happier and more excited for life than ever.
When I think back to how we met, I feel so lucky. Out of millions of people on the internet, the fact that we found each other has led me to believe that fate does indeed exist. We now have the life that we dreamed of together, and neither of us can still quite believe it.
Harriet Scott is currently studying communication and media at Bournemouth University. She co-runs an Instagram account with her girlfriend that promotes LGBTQ+ equality and mental wellbeing.
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I Discovered I Was Bisexual At Girl Scout Camp
By heatherbarmore — Written on Apr 03, 2020
The first time I kissed a girl was at Girl Scout camp when I was 14 years old. Girl Scout camp, of all places! She was a short, red-haired girl named Bailey who I pecked on the lips in a moment of teenage experimentation.
I kissed her again in the parking lot in front of my rather prudish mother who stood by, ready to load me up into our minivan. In my periphery I could see her eyes widen and her face scrunch in disgust. “Let’s go,” she said curtly.
After kissing Bailey, I returned home and started my sophomore year of high school. I didn’t head through the doors of my small town school and proudly proclaim that I was contemplating my sexuality and possibly being a lesbian. A kiss was just a kiss, and a peck was my version of "we’ll see."
Although my parents were sexual beings by my estimations — I once found more condoms than any man could possibly need in a dish on my father’s dresser — they never spoke of the big "it" out loud. Since the Internet came of age, just as I did, instead of having "the talk" with my parents, I learned about sex via the World Wide Web. Thanks to Ask Jeeves (remember Ask Jeeves?), I learned about orgasms and the purpose of a clitoris.
From September to June, I admired (and attempted to approach) the boys in my grade and was quickly rebuffed. It seemed I wasn’t good enough, pretty enough, popular enough for them. I simply wasn’t enough at all.
Come July, I officially switched to the other team, so to speak. Nothing serious, mind you, just casual flirtation and a willingness to be open and affectionate with women.
But it was Girl Scout camp where my curiosity about women, bisexuality, and sexual orientation first piqued. It wasn’t simply the place I learned to tie a rope, build a fire, kayak and sail; it was where I learned to appreciate women as leaders.
I envied these women because they were able to be themselves and — as it seemed from my teenage vantage point — had been able to forge a path of acceptance in themselves and those around them. The women I met were creative, talented, and kind. They often wore their heart on their sleeves.
These weren't the girls I was forced to be around in my high school for nine months of the year — these were women. Real women. They weren’t mean or haughty, but adventurous and clever. These were the type of women I hoped to become.
Eventually, during my junior year of high school, I moved past personality traits and truly began to notice the female form of my fellow staffers, the way a woman’s body moved with hips and curves. At the time, I was a breast girl. An enthusiast, if you will, so I admired (clandestinely) the chests of those around me to compare and contrast to what I had to offer.
I developed a lesbian crush on my friend Lindsay, but she was dating a fellow counselor. On one of our breaks, I brought Lindsay home with me before heading back to camp. My father was courteous, but later referred to her as "that dyke." It was then I realized that crushing on a woman and holding hands in the woods was as far as it could ever go.
Eleven years later, I stood in the bathroom of my apartment. My girlfriend at the time, Heidi, was taking a bath. I knew she had been dying for one, so I surprised her with a Lush bath bomb. I swirled the water around with my hand and asked how she liked it before receiving a kiss. Not a peck, not experimentation, but a full-on plant where she grabbed my face with her wet hands.
I got up from the edge of the tub and started to undress myself and prepare for bed. We had sex the night before — some of the best sex I've ever had — and she fell asleep wrapped around me so that I could feel her chest on my back.
Three years later, long after Heidi and I broke up, I was sitting on a friend’s rooftop with a group of girlfriends. While I hadn't inherited my parents’ reluctance to discuss sex, I'd been known to keep many intimate details to myself, namely the one where I openly say that I'd had sex with women and I'd probably do it again.
After a bottle of wine or two, it came up. Amid close friends, I nonchalantly mentioned an ex who happened to also have a vagina.
One friend simply said, “Oh, so you’re bisexual? How did I not know this?” and the conversation moved on. Another friend poked me in the arm, gave me a side-eye and said, “I told you no one cares.”
I'm bisexual. I'm attracted to people , full stop. For far too long, that was something I was reluctant to admit. Once upon a time, my parents sent me off to Girl Scout camp where I was imparted with a healthy dose of independence, and, more importantly, an ability to finally find women with whom I could form a bond.
Perhaps it was finding that capacity within myself, in this world full of gray areas, that made it possible for me to eventually be able to connect to women based on friendship and acceptance. Over the years, I've found a natural lust for both women and men, and eventually a confidence to go after both sexes.
In a recent conversation with my once-prudish mother, I mentioned what camp did for me: how it turned me into a woman who loves people — all people — and I told her that she raised a woman who wanted to love (and be loved) by whomever.
I broached the topic carefully, waiting for disappointment. She smiled and said, “Good.” Nothing more, nothing less. Simple acceptance, which is really all I ever wanted.
Heather Barmore is a blogger, freelance writer and policy advocate. Visit her website or follow her on Twitter .
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DEAR DEIDRE My soulmate lied to me for 2 years - he is married & still living with his wife
FIZZLING OUT My work colleague just wanted sex & no longer wants to spend any time with me
TOO QUICK My boyfriend can't last in bed especially when I give him oral sex
DEAR DEIDRE My wife has left me for our son's headteacher and the whole town are talking
DEAR DEIDRE: I’M having a lesbian affair with my mother-in-law, and I am terrified my husband will find out.
Last year, he and I moved in with his parents so we’d be in a bubble for lockdown and they could help with the kids.
Most people moan or joke about their mother-in-law but I’ve always got on really well with mine.
She has a great sense of humour, is kind and looks great for 53.
She had my husband very young — he’s 35 and I’m 40.
She and my father-in-law have had a rocky marriage for years, and just before Christmas they split up, and he moved out.
One night, my husband was at work and the kids were in bed when she suggested we have a drink together and watch a film.
I noticed she was really dolled up and looked beautiful.
In the middle of the film she started crying and confessed she’s a lesbian — that was why her marriage had ended. I comforted and cuddled her, and then she kissed me.
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It felt strange, but really nice, so I kissed her back. She led me up to her bedroom and I didn’t protest. I’ve never had sex with a woman before but it was amazing and so intense.
Since then, we’ve kept on doing it whenever we can. As soon as my husband leaves the room, we have a kiss, and sometimes I’ll sneak into her bed when he’s sleeping.
One night, I fell asleep in her arms. The only reason we didn’t get caught was because my husband had a lie-in.
My feelings for her are growing stronger and I’m sure my husband will notice the looks between us, or catch us in bed. I want to be with her but don’t want to hurt him.
My team and I are working safely from home but we are here to help you as always.
Every problem gets a personal reply, usually within 24 hours weekdays.
You can also send a private message on the DearDeidreOfficial Facebook page.
DEIDRE SAYS: You know that if your husband finds out this will destroy not only your relationship with him, but his relationship with his mother – and your whole family.
He will be devastated that the two people he loves and trusts most in the world have let him down.
His mum may have turned to you for comfort, but encourage her to find support elsewhere and a relationship with somebody else.
Do you really think this relationship has a future? If not, maybe best stop now.
My support pack Can’t Be Faithful? may help to clarify things for you.
As for your marriage, are you still happy with your husband?
I’d advise you both to move back to your own home as soon as you can, and work on rebuilding your relationship.
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