So off we went. The drinking started early. And it all came tumbling out.

"Look," she said, "getting involved with a straight girl is dangerous."

And then I pulled out my patented line that I have used easily for 20 years: "Well, what would it hurt if we just made out?"

I'm telling you, no one ever passes up this line. Because if you start making out and it sucks, it will stop right there—no harm, no foul. Then again, if it's fantastic, which in this case it was, suit up, because someone's gonna be rounding some bases.

Surprisingly, though, that's not where it ended that night. I'd always rushed to sleep with guys, but it just felt right to take it slow.

She promised to call me the next morning, and lo and behold, she did. Hmm, these chicks are trustworthy! She was going away in a couple of weeks to Hawaii and asked me to come along. Did I even have to think about it?

And so, my lesbian fling finally took flight. And sex with a woman? Turns out it was a no-brainer...because I am one (very familiar with the equipment already). It was like having the answers before taking a test. Like walking around in the house you grew up in. You can turn all the lights off, I'll still know where everything is.

But then something else began to happen—something I hadn't quite planned on. It started to get serious. And now, here I am, 12 years later, telling you this story. (Surprisingly, it never seems to get old, especially to my straight male friends—"Carol, I want to hear everything. Slowly and in great detail, please.") Granted, it's been something of an adjustment. Two menstrual cycles in one relationship? Getting a word in edgewise? Love happens. Gay happens. But in the end, love always trumps the gay.

Excerpted from When You Lie About Your Age, the Terrorists Win, by Carol Leifer. Copyright © 2009 by Carol Leifer. Published by arrangement with Villard Books, an imprint of Random House Publishing Group, a division of Random House, Inc.


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