Varchesis ponders the implications of reading random lesbian blog

Hmmm... A lesbian blog. Easy found but, so elusive. As a male lesbian, I feel that it is my duty to investigate the 'other-side' of lesbianism in all it's glory. No pictures mind you. Female lesbians are not so open as of yet.

It's seems an interesting thing to read about girls kissing girls, girls out on dates with 'friends', etc. It's kinda hot. Kinda seedy. At the same time, I wonder if my interest is an outcropping of some deep rooted fear of online homosexual journals. Is it me who peeks out the window at the exciting world of lesbian blogs like a sex-starved home-maker at the broad-chested construction workers across a blazing hot suburban landscape? Shameful. Or is it?

As I read this random lesbian blog, I notice that my loins are tingling but, it subsides as I relish in the pain, frustration and loneliness of my fellow (yet female) lesbian online bloggers.

What is the horror which creeps into my pants and stimulates my other brain (the one upstairs)? It's the dark visage of exclusion. The veil of expression in a vacuum. The caged canary sings a censored song. Even in it's best moments, a private blog intended to be shared amongst 'friends' suffers the maginification of Google's prying eyes. Secrets aren't secrets and privacy is an empty promise.

Now, logically, we may assume these lesbian make no pretense at secrecy but, isn't ANY group of people with a label a divided and thus secluded group? A group that wants to be equal, loved and appreciated for all their beauties and flaws? Doesn't everyone seek sharing secret skeletons to relieve some long burdening anguish?

You may ask, where is this going? Of that I'm not sure. Will I become gay by reading lesbian blogs? Will you become gay by reading my thoughts on reading lesbian blogs? Who knows? What is it that draws me back to these random scatterings?

But, my own supposed homophobia seems glaringly obvious as I creep back to read the random lesbian blog, not for it's volumes of mundane and sometimes epic emotional expression.
In the end I return for the simple satisfaction of a boyhood fixation with the possiblilty of catching girls talking about getting it on with girls. That's hot.