One of the downsides of being a dyke is the epic amount of dyke drama that can encircle (using the general term) you. You don’t create it, you don’t ask for it, it just appears. Like the chicken pox or dent in your car door. Or, like being the third in a threesome that asked you to join them purely out of novelty and not out of actual interest of having a poly-sexual adventure.
You (no longer the general term, actually finger pointing now) brought on the latest bout of dyke drama in my life. I have pretty thick skin, but your recent words and actions brought on tears when I returned to the safety of my car and in the comforting arms of my other half.
I feel frustrated that I was the only one behaving as an adult that evening. I was not the creator of drama nor did I attempt to put myself in such a toxic situation. I acted my age and use my manners that Richard Scary taught me with his manners book. Yet, you could not resist using such hateful words and rude behavior. You saw who I was with and that I was having a great time and you just couldn’t handle it. May I remind you that you had your chance and you ended it, please stop making me feel guilty for your decisions.
Next time you see me, alone or with another, either put your big girl pants on and introduce yourself or politely ignore me/us.