I’m going to go out on a limb with a personal view and experience. It is not PC.
I was drawn into a lesbian relationship in college. Maybe I’m a lesbian, but frankly I don’t know. I followed down the extreme feminist path, hating men and the patriarchy. I got married to my lesbian partner. We lived in the Bay area and we were involved with anything LGBTQ etc. Feminist issues. Beat the drum. Until the noise was deafening. I had it, I left, went back home, into therapy.
A year of withdrawal, a year without cigarettes, a year without activists. A year around men. The lies kept being thrown in my face. I was so wrong that when I started crying I didn’t stop for months.
A year after going home, at a Thanksgiving dinner, I met a man. Yes, a man. He was intelligent, self assured, good job, taller, firm hands, And he kissed me outside on the porch. I resisted, then went limp while he kissed me holding me up. He made love to me, was surprised I was still a virgin. He dated me, brought me back from the edge, offered me a home and a family, and a stay at home lifestyle, with an art studio. Bought me off, and I sold myself.
It took two years to divorce my lesbian wife because she made hell for me. I married my husband, and started a family at 28. Every day is a new beginning, a smiling baby, no fighting, a place in society. My art is coming along, I’ve sold.
Toxic is a word I use for my trip into lesbian feminist hell. No one knows toxic, until they have lived around toxic feminist lesbians. And that’s the unvarnished truth.
