Grazia's weekly columnist, Laura Jane Williams, is looking for love - and she's not afraid to say it...
I watch girl-on-girl porn. It's just, well, in lesbian porn women tend to experience actual pleasure. Straight porn is shades of violence, depicting sex as something a woman has done to her. It's passive - she may as well be a blow-up doll, or a sock, which is fine if that's what you're into.
But for me, women together are sensual and engaged. Thoughtful, but still filthy. Everyone gets off, and that gets me off. I'm weirdly specific about who I watch, too. Straight porn sees a lot of young-looking girls with flat chests, and dead eyes, and I want to see somebody who looks like me orgasm: blonde, with a bosom and tiny waist and big arse that bounces, but in a sexy way.
Last week, I told you about how I stuck it out with the Film Trailer Editor for longer than I should have and it truly was his oral sex that kept me coming... back for more. He is a rarity: I've bedded too many blokes who are geographically-challenged when it comes to the vagina, or worse: squeamish.
I first started watching lesbian porn with an ex, and was struck by how long the foreplay lasted. It was a way of suggesting, "See that? I want it like that", without having to use my words. It gave the message - pretty straightforwardly - that I wanted oral sex. Good oral sex.
Perhaps I should've tried that with The Divorcee - a man I dated earlier this year who told me his ex had been "sexually unsatisfied", like she was the one with problem. Then we slept together and after I suggested he might want to take a bit more time, y'know, down there, he disappeared. Ghosted me. Simply couldn't handle a little direction.
I swiped and imagined a dating life where I got to hang out with my equal.
The last straw with the Film Trailer Editor was when the pool table at a bowling alley we were at ate our money. Get this: HE WAS TOO SCARED TO GO TO THE FRONT DESK TO GET A REFUND. Literally every female friend I have has more balls than most of the blokes I've dated, lovely as they've been.
I despaired. So I altered my "looking for" setting on Bumble to swipe for women in my area and it was full of witty, bright lawyers, businesswomen and creatives and everyone was so accomplished and fun and capable.
I swiped and I swiped and imagined a dating life where I got to hang out with my equal. A dating life where I hold hands with a chick and there's no gender-struggle over who pays or who texts first. I was attracted to women my own age, too, whereas with blokes I find I like them older because it takes them a bit longer to grow up - if they ever do.
The brunette artist looked like she'd be a laugh and take no bull; the red-headed editor would hold her own when faced with my sarcastic mates. I wouldn't have to mother any of them. I wouldn't have to lessen myself to make them feel comfortable. As I waited for my matches to come through I wondered if with a woman, maybe I'd be more like myself than I ever could be with a man.
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