Is it risky? It depends. Here’s my take on it, based on my personal experience and some statistics that a girlfriend showed me. And yes, there’s no space between “girl” and “friend.” As to romantic relationships, I’m into girls — only. (Maybe also genderqueer people — I haven’t tried yet).
I’ve slept with only one guy in my entire life. He was my sole (and failed) attempt at having a boyfriend. I can’t imagine anything that could better confirm a girl’s status as a lesbian as effectively as having been in a relationship dynamic with a guy and a girl, each — so that she’s making an informed decision. So yes, I’m a lesbian, very much so.
And no, romance isn’t mainly about sex — and sex is not mainly about penetration — for me, anyway — but if it were, then ironically, a girl can penetrate vastly better than a guy can, typically. Imagine someone playing the piano with his “down there” part, and the lack of precision, rigidity and control, and you can understand what I mean. As a trans girl, I personally have that same-shape “down there” body part too but the main organ I use for sex with girls is the one behind my eyes, not behind my zipper, even if that later comes into play too. And it’s just one more option, not the only option. There’s a good reason why I have healthy, moisturized, well-cared for hands, and short, smooth fingernails.
If you’re a girl and you know you’re not into girls, so be it … but if you think you might be, I recommend you try it — it’s an intense mental connection, and it can be sweet and gentle yet also primally ultra-hot. If so far you haven’t much enjoyed sex, or you feel lonely or misunderstood or unconnected to mankind, and you’ve only been with guys, then I have a pretty good guess as to the reason. Also, if you’re a girl, and you like the smooth look of the female physique, I recommend seeing one at close range, in bed. You have one life to live; enjoy it.
As to the main focus of the article: when I write “sleep with” I mean it literally. I don’t mean: having sex. That’s an entirely different category and I’m not talking about that euphemistically.
I didn’t really think it through as to how sleeping with someone is dangerous until another girl pointed out the possibilities to me. Whomever I was sleeping with could have killed me in my sleep, or drugged me and abducted me, or tied me up and then done things to me to which I didn’t consent, or … I don’t know … sold me to a biker gang? The possibilities expand near-endlessly, all of them unpleasant.
Ironically, I’ve never trusted my boyfriend at the time enough to invite him to my place. He didn’t, and still doesn’t, even know where I live. It feels silly now that I’d trusted him with my person and yet not with the content of my apartment.
Still, property is at risk too. While I’m asleep next to someone, he could sneak out of bed, pretending to get up to use the bathroom, and yet when I wake up, who knows what he’s done with the contents of my purse, including my car keys. And, now that I think about it, my address is printed on my driver’s license.
Perhaps 200 years ago, in the sparsely populated desert that would later become the east-of-Reno area, the biggest physical risk of death from violent attack to someone living here was probably a mountain lion. Nowadays, it’s a male human. And yes, I AM singling guys out.
Statistically, in the US, by far the biggest physical risk of death from violent attack to a male human is … another male human. The biggest physical risk of death from violent attack to a female human is … a male human. Trans girls especially get killed by male humans to so statistically significant an extent that we’ve begun a “transgender day of remembrance” tradition, in general protest.
Of course, not all guys are bad. Some of my best friends are guys. But if I were to keep sleeping with strange men, the odds would NOT be in my favor. Besides, it’d be pointless. Now that I know how I’m wired, I realize why there’s no attraction for me in sleeping with a guy, literally.
I do sometimes enjoy sex with guys. For me, there’s something primally hot about being pounded sexually by someone who doesn’t know me, understand me or much care about me, as if he’d just bought me at a slave girl auction. However, after he’s stopped breathing heavily and he’s turned into a mean jerk who’s suddenly less interested in me than what’s in the refrigerator or on the sports channel, I’m outta there. When I get sexual with a guy, my favorite place to do so is at a high-quality sex club where this sort of thing is much more likely to be safe. Less-safe but still okay is: a high-quality hotel room. Less-safe yet is the guy’s place.
If I go there, I always drink a lot of water before I show up. Even so, I’m almost always offered a drink right after I walk in the door. I politely decline but my thoughts are: “No thanks. I barely trust you enough to have sex with you. I don’t trust you enough to drink whatever you put into an innocent-looking glass. Even if it’s just alcohol out of a freshly-opened untampered-with bottle (for which corked champagne is a good choice), then still — no thanks. I don’t need to get sleepy, or have impaired judgement or dulled senses. I’m in full-alert mode. In the unlikely event that I do get thirsty, then I will go drink water by cupping my clean hands under a tap.”
By contrast, with girls, I trust. Violent girls are, as I understand the statistics, super-rare. If we were to pardon drug-specific crimes, then women’s prisons in the US would become almost empty. The only girl who was ever violent to me was my girlfriend at the time, after I said: “I need some space. I’m going to go away for a few hours. Let go of my arm. This is freaking me out: you literally are keeping me here physically” and yet she refused.
So many of my girlfriend dynamics have begun after we found each other online. By the time we’d built a rapport, trust had long since been automatically established, and I typically invited the lady over. Not too long after, two girls were happily waking up in the same bed. That I’m still alive, and friends with almost all of them, including on FaceBook, is not mainly a testament that I have good judgement (as did they). It’s probably more due to the fact that, as girls, we tend to be non-violent and nice to each other — and besides, it’s easy for us girls to read each other well. The few times when I got a bad vibe from a girl, there was nothing subtle about it, and I’ve never been wrong about distrusting those few; subsequent events validated my caution.
I’m grateful for being a lesbian. It makes my life so much more safe.