Girl Talk, Grown Up

In my third year of college, a friend of mine sat across a kitchen table from me at one in the morning. She turned her tea mug around in her hands. Then she said a sentence about her own body. I had never heard a woman say a sentence like that out loud.

I will keep the sentence to myself. It was hers. But I can tell you what happened in my chest. Something unclenched.

I had been carrying a voice without knowing it. It said, “Oh, thank goodness. It isn’t only me.”

I said something back, and then she said something else. We talked until the sky went gray. We compared notes like women who finally trust one another.

There was a great deal of laughing. There were some astonished silences. For one long stretch, we both stared at the ceiling and said “wait, really?” By dawn I had learned more about my own body than in all my years of school.

That conversation led to a few others in time. It also led to a little curiosity of my own about women. I will describe it here with all the discretion a woman is allowed.

It felt unexpectedly easy and unexpectedly strange, in about equal parts. I was surprised by how much it felt like being understood.

I have thought about it often since. I think about the way women pass things to one another, in kitchens, in cars, over glasses of wine. I think about the long, honest talks no book ever quite captures. This whole section is a tribute to that, and a guide for anyone who wants more of it.

Who This Is For

Let me say out loud who I am talking to. Every woman reading deserves to be named.

• She has always known.
• She is curious and has never told a soul.
• She tried it once and has thought about it ever since.
• She has loved both women and men.
• She wants no label.
• She is in a relationship with a man and wonders about women.
• She is just wondering, with no particular destination.

You are all welcome, and nobody here has to decide anything. This is a house with many doors, and none of them locks behind you.

The book speaks to women. It is open to everyone living as a woman, including trans women. Everything ahead is meant for you, in your body and in your life.

A Gateway, And Sometimes A Home

For many adult women, closeness with another woman is the first step toward understanding their own bodies. The trust, the shared vocabulary, the lack of performance, and the curiosity all create a kind of room. In that room, a woman can finally ask the questions she was too shy to ask.

For some, that room becomes a season in a longer life. For others, it becomes the whole story. For many, it is somewhere in between, and it shifts over the years. Every one of those is a perfectly good way to live.

Researchers have studied women’s desire over many years. They noticed something that matches what many women say. Attractions are not always fixed.

Some women find their attractions shift across their lives. Some find them steady from start to finish. The research is ongoing, and nobody has the final word.

You get to be the expert on your own experience. Nothing here needs to be settled today.

Learning From Women You Trust

Here is one of the best-kept secrets in the world. Women have always taught each other the real information.

It happens quietly, in whispers, in bathrooms, on long drives, and over late-night kitchen tables. We trade the facts nobody printed in any textbook. We trade tips on touch that feels good. We trade stories of life after a baby.

We trade the secrets of getting older. We trade the look on a good friend’s face when she says, “Me too.”

Have a friend like that? Treasure her. Want one and still waiting? Here are some gentle ways to begin.

How to ask. Choose a quiet moment and an easy opener.

“Can I ask you something? I have never asked anyone. Or, “Did you ever notice something in your body?

Did you think it was only you? Or, “What do you wish somebody had told you?”

Frank questions land best after an invitation. A bit of humor helps too.

How to answer. Say thank you first. “I am glad you asked me.” Then share what you know and what you are still working out.

It is perfectly fine to say, “I do not know the answer, but let us wonder together.” You can also say, “I would rather not share that, but I am glad we are talking,” at any time.

How to listen. Keep your face open and your judgment at home. A friend gives the most by letting another woman finish her sentence.

One more thing. Women often talk openly with their friends. They tend to be calmer and more confident in their own skin. Being heard helps.

Labels Are Optional

You might call yourself a lesbian, or bisexual, or queer, or pansexual, or straight, or curious, or none of the above. Plenty of women use different words at different times in their lives.

This book uses plain, kind language and lets you name yourself, or leave yourself unnamed. A label can be a lovely home or a useful shorthand. It can also be something to try on and take off again. You are free to pick one, change it, or live without it.

Two Women, Same Practices

Good news for anyone with a friend, a partner, or a beloved. Everything in this book works with two. The practices are about attention and warmth, and attention and warmth travel well.

Here are a few of my favorites for two women, all fully clothed, all gentle.

• Side by side. Sit next to each other and do the Long Exhale together. Breathe in for four, out for six, five times. Your breathing soon starts to match.
• Dance. Put on a slow song and move together with your clothes on. Let your bodies get used to each other’s tempo. You can learn so much from the way someone sways.
• Body talk. Take turns naming the warmth, tension, or ease in your own body. Do it right now, with no goal and no pressure. It is as intimate as it sounds.
• The Fabric Hello for two. Take turns giving each other the gentle, clothed touch of the Fabric Hello, on the shoulders, the back, and the arms. Check in often with a simple question: “More, less, or the same?”
• Slow touch over clothing. If you both like, let your hands travel over soft fabric at a pace that feels good. Talk about it along the way.

Soft fabric, a slow pace, and good conversation make it more rewarding.

Some women love to gather in small circles and practice together, clothed and relaxed. It is a bit like a yoga class with more laughter. It is an old and lovely tradition. I would like to see it become as ordinary as Pilates.

A Story: The Armchairs

Two armchairs, one low lamp, a bottle of red wine, and a rainy Thursday.

Mara had known Lena for six years. They had been through breakups, promotions, a bad haircut, and a funeral. Tonight Lena had moved her armchair a little closer to the window. That put her a little closer to Mara, and neither of them had mentioned it.

They had been talking for two hours. They talked about work, then about their mothers. Somewhere in the second glass, they talked about what they had never told anyone.

“I used to think something was wrong with me,” Lena said in a low voice. “I wanted too much, or too slowly, or in the wrong order.”

“Slowly sounds good to me,” Mara said.

The words hung in the air for a moment. The rain went on. Lena looked at her over the rim of her glass. Mara felt a warm, quiet pull below her ribs, like a hand pressing very lightly on the small of her back.

Neither of them moved. Their knees were perhaps four inches apart, and Mara was aware of every one of them.

She noticed the lamp catching in Lena’s hair. She noticed the pulse in her throat. She noticed her hand resting open on the arm of the chair.

“Tell me what you want,” Mara said. She said it so softly it was almost a breath.

Lena took a long time to answer. Then her voice came, steady and a little rough. “I want you to keep looking at me like that.”

So Mara did. She kept looking, and the rain kept falling.

The four inches between them filled up with something warm and heavy and very much alive. Nobody touched anybody. Nobody needed to.

It was the most thrilling thing that had happened to either of them in years. It took place entirely with their clothes on.

A Story: The First Kiss, Over Silk

It happened at the end of a dance.

Nell wore a silk blouse the color of ripe plums. Jo wore a soft gray sweater. Nell had been admiring it all evening, in secret, from across the room.

The party had thinned out. A slow song came on. Jo held out her hand.

They danced like people pretending it was an ordinary dance. Jo’s palm lay flat against the small of Nell’s back. Nell felt its heat through the silk. It spread outward like ink in water.

“Is this okay?” Jo murmured. Her mouth was near Nell’s ear.

“Yes,” Nell said. Her voice came out small. “Slower.”

Jo slowed. Her hand traveled up Nell’s spine, over the silk, one patient inch at a time. Nell’s breath caught somewhere under her collarbone.

The fabric slid under Jo’s fingers with a whisper. It seemed far too loud.

Nell tilted her head back with her eyes open. She asked, quite clearly, “May I kiss you?”

“Yes,” said Jo. It was the only word she had left.

The kiss was soft at first, and then it deepened. For a long, dizzy moment the room went completely quiet. Nell felt the wool of the sweater under her hands, and the heat of Jo through it. The whole length of the evening arrived at once in her knees.

They stopped, and both were breathing like runners at the top of a hill. Jo laughed a little unsteadily and rested her forehead against Nell’s.

“Well,” she said. “That was worth waiting for.”

They took their time. They had all the time in the world, and a good deal of fabric still to explore.

On The Road

I have wandered through a good many countries. I noticed how differently each one sees women’s closeness.

In a market in Hanoi, I watched two women stroll hand in hand. They were laughing, and nobody gave it a second look. In a small Italian town, two old friends kissed each other on both cheeks and then shared a single plate of figs. Their ease made me envious.

And in other places, I met women who would not have dared to hold hands in public. They kept their friendships carefully quiet. Their warmth seemed to wait behind a closed door.

I will not rank any of these, and I will not generalize. Every place holds every kind of woman.

Here is what the road taught me. Closeness between women is one of the oldest and most universal things in the world. Each of us decides, within her own life, how to carry it.

Safety And Consent

The same standards apply here as everywhere in this book. They are worth saying plainly.

Everyone involved is an adult, and everyone wants to be there. The yes is warm, clear, and enthusiastic. It can change to a no at any moment, from either side, with no explanation owed.

Agree on a stop word, a silly one, such as “pineapple. It is easy to say and easy to hear. Respect privacy.

What happens between you stays between you. Change that only if you both decide to.

For health, a few simple words. Talk about it. Ask each other about health and testing first.

Not sure of your partner’s status? Use barriers.

Wash your hands. Sharing anything? Cover it or wash it between uses.

These are small, ordinary habits. They keep everyone comfortable.

Men And Mixed Experiences

Some readers are with a man and curious about women. Some are with a woman and have been with men. Some are with both. All of that is part of the picture.

In a relationship, honesty matters more than any arrangement. Feelings like jealousy are common. They are information, not a verdict. A kind conversation at a calm moment can turn a worry into a shared plan.

Some couples agree on openness. Some prefer to stay exclusive. Either choice can be warm and loving. Make it together.