Let's be a lesbian pool party

I'm the abundance of 'don't run near the pool!' warning signs.

I'm the fibromyalgia that prevents running near the pool.

I'm the wondering about whether it's a nut loaf or a human turd floating in the pool.

"I'm the abundance of 'don't run near the pool!' warning signs."

We have stated our boundaries.

We are telling you NOW should we don't have to tell you LATER.

I’m the mens’ board shorts worn by basically everyone at the party

I'm one of those swimsuits with a skirt that's supposed to hide all the prominent FUPA. I fail miserably.

I'm the smell of dozens of wet feet in sopping leather Birkenstocks as the gals climb out of the pool and into their summer footwear.

Beer (and not the good kind) .... lots of cheap beer.

I’m the pool jet that is being used for reasons which are well known to everyone.

I'm the layer of cats' hairs, corn plasters, cigarette butts and beer can ring pulls floating on surface of the water. Under the right light and from a distance, this swimming pool looks like a Jackson Pollock painting!

I am a snide comment from an elder lez to a cute baby dyke in a skin-tight one-piece that rides up on her perky ass: "Great job pandering to the male gaze."

I'm Ruby. I'm letting the hostess know that I've noticed some spalling on the concrete deck around the pool, and there appears to be some bond shear and delamination affecting the coping.

I offer the services of my concrete-and-masonry firm at a friends-and-family discount in case the hostess wants to address these issues before they get out of hand.

I'm the adorable dogs on floating lounges in the pool. I'm the Trulys or White Claws my hot owners are drinking. I'm the absence of douche bros. I'm the veggie and protein rich barbecue offerings. Of course we know how to barbecue! I'm the neighbor-friendly time it ends- everyone better be gone by 10pm.

[quote]I'm the adorable dogs on floating lounges in the pool. I'm the Trulys or White Claws my hot owners are drinking. I'm the absence of douche bros. I'm the veggie and protein rich barbecue offerings. Of course we know how to barbecue! I'm the neighbor-friendly time it ends- everyone better be gone by 10pm.

All served without a scintilla of humor or levity.

I'm the lesbo whore who flashes her pussy every time somebody walks by.

I'm the one gay guy who managed to get an invite via ^ lesbo whore

I'm gay guy zoned out while listening to the complex, interwoven romances and relationships of these women being explained to him.

I’m the titillated straight male neighbor who casts his binoculars aside in horror that Nair and razors have no meaning with this herd.

I'm 307 pounds, the average weight of the attendees on the guest list.

The one attendant wearing swimwear looked to Lens Dunham for inspiration.

I’m the buffalo-plaid one-piece that barely covers the muff-fro.

[quote] "I'm a gigantic tshirt worn over the bathing suit. I won't be getting wet."

If I were a hot lesbian, I'd skip the suit and swim in the shirt alone. But seeing as though I'm a gay man, I'll have to settle for a Speedo and a caftan.

I'm the elder lez with no body shame whatsoever. I remove all clothing, and dive into the pool with my pussy, tits, and ass on display for all to see.

I'm the whiff of chlorine, Miller Lite, and snatch that all the neighbors up and down the block experience.

I'm Jen, the big lesbian with jumper cables and I know how to use them. All the baby dykes love me when their cars won't start.

Overheard: “I’m not here for any of your cis-heteronormative BULLSHIT!”

I'm the ample bush seen through light colored swimsuits.

DL's version of Lesbians is sad. I've always had the best time with my lesbian friends, women who know how to dress, groom, laugh and have a good time.

R28 Do your lesbian friends shave their pits?

R28 is a lesbian.

Ha, no I am not, R30. I work in a field that has many (behind the camera stuff) lesbians.

The ones in LA shave/wax, the ones in Portland do not.

I'm the chubby snow white legs slathered in sun block.

I'm the voluminous beach towels.

I'm the legs with varicose veins on display all throughout the party.

I’m Jen, loudly and drunkenly asking: Does anyone know whether chlorine damages ankle monitors?

We're the floating pedal bikes, and we'll help them burn off the calories from all those barbecued hotdogs and beer.

I'm the two biggest, meanest lesbians who get into a brawl. Deck chairs are thrown and smashed. Crowbars and tire irons are used in the fight. Police are called, but the party rolls on...

I'm R23 the naked elder lez. I was hit in the head with one of the thrown chairs in R37 's fight.

[quote] DL's version of Lesbians is sad.

You must know by now that most of these people are shut-ins and incels, right?

I'm Ruby, noticing that the grass is patchy and telling the hostess my construction firm can also lay turf.

I'm Jaxx, overhearing "TERF" and whirling my head around to see who said it.

I'm trouble. I'm a-brewin'.

I'm Tiffany, a lipstick lesbian. My pussy leaves the party satisfied.

I'm Alice B., the rescue pittie. As soon as someone foolishly slides open the patio door, I galumph out, straight into the pool for a cooling dip, then straight back out again to shake off on a gaggle of women holding plates of Beyond Meat burgers and potato chips.

I'm the lack of deodorant and basic hygiene of the lesbians at the party.

I'm the Uhaul reservation! Seems someone found their soul mate while serving up the Potato Salad!

I'm the Lesbo camped out on the front porch asking everyone to sign my petition, as they come and go!

I'm the plugged-up toilet after Big Jen had a blowout.

I'm the drunken elder ex nun coming onto the younger lez with the intensity of a man. ....Chug-a-lug, chug-a-lug all night long.

I'm the open belching and farting

I am cilantro. Big Mel suspects that the Amy's Black Bean Veggie Burger she just bit into contains me, even though she was ASSURED that there was no cilantro. Big Mel has stated her boundaries: She CANNOT eat cilantro.

Micki, ever the peacemaker, dutifully supports her partner by rooting through the garbage, looking for the Amy's box.

I'm Kelly's ex Kim (no, not THAT Kim, the other Kim), who shows up with her new girlfriend Kiala even though she knows both Kelly and the other Kim have had turbulent relationships with Kiala and cannot stand her.

Drama to ensue in 3 ... 2 ... 1 ...

I'm all the accumulated body hair that clogging the filters.

I'm the neighbor who comes by to say, "Hey, can the owner of the Subaru Forrester move it, please? You're blocking my driveway."

Twelve women look up.

I'm the endless packs of Marlboro Reds found sitting on all the tables.

I'm the "Remember your cane is NOT a flotation device" signs, with their invocation of last year's tragedy.

I'm the "str8" girl that came for the progressive selfies. I'm still hip, I'm still cool.

I'm the only black lesbian here.. I have to keep reminding people that me and my partner are the same age. There would be more black lesbians here but they think they get too stereotyped by the white lesbians and thought it was gaslighting by making it a pool party because supposedly black people can't swim. Yet me and my ashy elbows have been playing waterpolo all night.

I'm the sudden quiet as the yelling of the hostesses fighting inside the house becomes so loud it can no longer be ignored. I only last a few seconds, then the guests get back to their drinking, smoking, eating, and talking.

I'm 'How dare you!' and 'What's that supposed to mean?' I will be heard early and often

I’m the assortment of vaginas that will have gotten wet for the first time in at least 15 years- without the use of a 2 x 4

I'm the inevitable E.coli outbreak that results from the filthy pool water contaminating food and drink after elderlez does a cannonball jump.

[quote] [R28] is a lesbian.

You can tell by the entrenched inability to take a joke.

"That's not funny!"

I'm the nutloaf that somehow got stuck in the pool filter. Luckily, MoJo works for Bilitis Detritis- a lesbian-owned pool service- and the matter was dealt with in a timely manner.

I'm the fish fingers that everyone had but no one ate

I am the staking out of spots and barely budging from them all evening.

A casual observer might attribute me to laziness, or the difficulty of navigating over uneven tiling with canes.

The real reason is because every gal at this party is trying to avoid at least 3 exes. Staying put minimizes the chances of rage, outbursts, and boundary violations.

I am the cute baby dyke's unsuccessful petitioning to play some girl in red, or Tegan and Sara.

Etheridge, Chapman, Lang, and Indigo Girls it is, then. Again.

I'm the crane that was brought in to get that one woman, you know who you are, that everybody pressured into getting into the pool but not even fifteen burly butches, four ftm and one long suspected mtf was able to get out.

I'm the caftans, board shorts and crocs.

I'm Jeff, the elderly gay neighbour, who screams over the fence, caftan flapping in the wind: "Play some passable music, or I'm calling the cops!"

Fifteen minutes later he really calls 911, sobbing.

I'm the united nations of adoptees, test tubes and turkey basters. Madonna ain't got nothing on us.

I'm the ElderLez wishing I went with the Bears this weekend, imagining I would be entertaining a faghag right now than making the mistake of getting in a pool of failed abortions with bladder control problems.

I'm the vegan hot dog that the cook handles as if it were radioactive material and worries about it contaminating her grill.

I'm the afternoon talent(less) show and couple games because what would a lesbian event be without one?

I'm also the conscious uncouplings as a result of losing the mock newly weds game.

I'm the 65 year old teenage boy known as Phranc.. I'm like a leprechaun, if you spot me, you'll have good luck! If you catch me, I'll give you a special deal on tupperware! Tupperware is versatile and handy, you can use it for all sorts of things.

I’m some weird salad with ingredients no one has ever heard of and I’m amazingly good. (My secret is actually full-fat mayonnaise and a lot of salt. Don’t tell!)

Well give us the recipe then, R74!

I'm the mini-stroke one lez had after the show 'n' tell when the conversation had turned to piercings...I thought I had seen it all but now I'm just really confused and spend the next few hours with my head cocked to the side, mouth open and attempting to say something but nothing comes out as I keep trying to process what I've seen.

I'm your current girlfriend that popped in the house for 45 minutes to use the restroom, because I guess I really had to go, you think nothing of it even when I come back smelling like the hostess. But after spending that much time in the can, I probably just used her lotions. Smells kind of nice. You'll ask her where she bought it later... and regret it.

I'm the rumor making its way around at the party. I heard Elder Lez and Big Jen are fingering each other in the hot tub.

LOL, R44!

I'm the reality that no one wants to think about of Elder Lez and Big Jen just getting older and prone to accidental discharges every time they sneeze, laugh or fart. It's nicer to think even at their age, it's all just finger banging than having as much interest in sagging meat flaps as men... besides Big Jen's belly is so big, she'd need two other gals to hold it up and two more to pry her vag to side to find her long neglected clit. That shit is so buried the last time she got a pap smear, they asked if she was circumcised.

I'm the big pile with Big Jen's pit-stained and skidmarked clothes.

The broken beer glasses in the inevitable skuffle.

I’m the palpable tension created by the twin toddlers running around shrieking even though the email was clear that children were not invited. Deb and Jess bringing Maya and Toni shows a complete lack of boundaries and no consideration for everyone else here. Unbelievable.

The live Indigo Girls version of “Ghost” in the background can’t even placate me.

I'm the slightly too pretty, too made-up, yet somehow too butch guest. No one's sure who invited me. I get the side-eye from a lot of women, until Marge, in a conference klatch, comes out with the words: "I think Anastasia is a man." Bets takes up the challenge and goes over for a closer look and some quizzing about biographical details, hoping to find clues.

Anastasia answers a few questions pleasantly, vaguely, then has a sudden headache and has to leave in haste.

You can't have a lesbian at a pool party.

I'm Babe's postprandial Robusto cigar. I'm lit with expansive satisfaction as Babe sprawls barefoot in a vinyl lounge chair, watching as the sun sets and the pool lights go on.

Tobacco smoke triggers Mel's fibro. She coughs pointedly and shoots Babe a look. Fortunately, Kat notices the scowl before Babe does, and hurriedly grabs Mel and hustles her away.

It was Mel's first time at the June pool party. She couldn't have known. But she knows now.

As the sun sets and fireflies begin to sparkle on tehse warm humid nights, I'll be the avenging fire dancer that tortures all the newly minted baby dykes, targeting the most nervous boi and lights her cigarette in a William Tell kind of way, She'll have nightmares and fantasies for weeks to come.

I’m the Ani Defranco CDs that were left out too long in the sun poolside and have warped!

I'm the absence of sexy bikinis. It's all water socks, sun-protecting t-shirts and oversized boardshorts.

I'm the "Walking Tacos" being served and causing all the flatulence. I'm a bag of Fritos, with Gringo White Boy Taco meat, hot sauce, and a plastic spoon.

That would be telling, R75, but let me assure you that each of my grains of salt was transported down the Himalayan mountain range by its own individual yak, to a Cambodian monastery, where it was ceremonially lifted onto a coracle which was rowed by a monk, to Portland.

I'm Roseanna, the 48 year-old bottle blonde with borderline disorder who dresses like a Lolita complete with heart-shaped sunglasses, laughs too loud and revels in the attention from all the lesbians although I'm completely straight myself. I'll end up starfishing for ElderLez because I need to be the sexy center of attention at all times.

I’m Che Diaz. The lesbians think I’m full of shit with my special snowflake “non-binary” (whatever the f that is) identity and kicked me out of the party.

I'm the adopted pitbull mix peeing in the pool.

I’m the lesbian on DL reading this and finding it quite offensive thank you very much. We helped you boys out during the AIDS crisis and all you do now is mock us and call us fat and ugly. Let’s see who helps out when monkeypox gets you all. Won’t be me and my sisters that’s for GODDAMN SURE.

I'm the group singalong to "Fast Car" when Deb gets her acoustic guitar out of the Subaru Forrester.

I'm r95, screaming with angry power!

I'm Lance, the lanky, geeky bespectacled bloke Mel brought. I lie telling everyone I'm gay, then get squiffy and hit on all the young lezbeans.

I'm the BBQ hotdogs.....I remind the lesbians of something they can't quite put their finger on ; )

[quote] Let’s see who helps out when monkeypox gets you all.

1) The strain of monkeypox that's been going around (and there have only been 80 cases in the last month in the US) is not fatal.

2) Monkeypox is not a pandemic.

We find your threats as underwhelming as your fashion sense.

I'm the one who has gotten stuck in a buoy. I will be launching into a angry rant about the patriarchy as soon as I get out of this thing.

Oh don't worry, r100. Some other disease will pop up for you. It's only a matter of time.

I'm R95, pissed that no lesbians have appeared to protest about his stupid thread so I can tell them haughtily how humorless they are. I make my own lil fantasy post come true 👍

r102, you're already clearly down with a fatal case of cuntiness. Prognosis: negative, I'm afraid.

Lmao r100 😂

This is Dl, R104, home of pointless bitchery. So wouldn't a fatal case of cuntiness be prognosis positive?

I'm the cooler full of Coors Light and Miller Genuine Draft.

I am the transbian coworker of Gwen, the host of the party. I wasn't invited, but I know about the party. I bought a bikini in hopes of being invited. I am posting angry messages on Twitter about my TERF co-worker, and her TERF friends. I would post her address on Twitter if I knew what it was.

All of my friends on Twitter are telling me how beautiful I am to make me feel better.

Bitchery =/= cuntiness, I'm afraid.

Does everyone know each other?

Kat and Barb, meet Deb.

Fran, meet Liz and Mo.

Liz, Mo and Deb, meet Deb.

Deb, Deb and Kat, meet Roz.

Oh look! Pam and Sara are here. I’ll make the introductions.

I hope we have enough Miller Lite.

I'm Deb, screaming "ouch" every time Kath takes a bite of a hot dog

R110 Don’t forget Cath!

Never mind, r110: we're all ex-girlfriends, every one of us.

I am Significant Looks exchanged between Kat and Babs when Melissa Etheridge sings the line, "tell me does she WANT you, infatuate and HAUNT you?"

Both of them are coupled. But they'll be re-coupled by the end of the party.

I’m the hours upon hours of processing that go on following the pool party.

I'm Deb asking, "Did anyone lose a ring of keys connected to a carabiner?"

Fourteen women look up.

I’m the Bud Lite

I'm R80. I'm witless, and such an effeminate loathesome queen that I mistake being a cunt for being funny. I know all about discharge as my prolapsed anus is going through its fifth bout of chlamydia in three years.

I’m the ping pong table.

I'm the flannel worn by Candice inside the pool.

I'm a blurry blue 40-year-old labrys tattoo on a sunburned tit.

R62 is the winner.

I’m the trap shooting competition off the back deck (which Denise built herself).

I'm Denise. There's always 1 of me at every lesbian gathering.

I'm the ability to fuck without any real fear of HIV or Monkeypox and no need for PrEP or condoms. I'm also the jealous, lonely old gay male neighbor, who is over at age 36, looking at the party with women of all ages and sizes enjoying themselves knowing I will never experience anything like that and hating them for that instead of the men I should be hating for being so focused only on youth and looks.

I’m the shared dildo to be used for the post swimming orgy.

R126 has never met a lesbian. We are not gay men, dear.

^ I am the Melissa Etheridge soundtrack that gets played during said lesbian orgy.

R127 is correct. Lesbians believe sex is LITERAL VIOLENCE!

r125 if you can call what they do fucking. Also lesbians can get crabs. So there.

I am the overwhelming smell reminiscent of the local fishery…

I’m the talk of the heat and how Hillary would’ve solved climate change.

I’m also the lineup of huge SUVs outside, lest anyone on the roads thought we had a small pussy.

I love when posters like r125 come in and throws this entire sexist AND homophobic thread on its head. I know some people are bothered.

I'm Karen and I'm too weak to get in the pool, so, I sit on the sidelines sucking on crushed ice and imagining the hayday of my life because I have cervical cancer from once believing lesbians were immune from stds. Well, I still believe lesbians are immune. I'm convinced that one of the women I slept with was actually bi.

I'm the female sumo tits and ass (keijo!) wrestling match that is shutdown because the anti-sex womynists keep screaming we're supporting the patriarchy and only catering to the male gaze... despite being a space completely free of men.

I'm the overwhelming stench of axe body spray, the sight of sagging pants with exposed boxer briefs and cracking voice that leaves you questioning is it a babydyke, a ftm or somebody's teenage son?

I'm the rare lipstick lesbian that everyone is supicious of.. because I have huge tits (and I'm not butch), I have a feminine name (and I'm not butch), I have a feminine voice (and I'm not butch.) etc

I'm that one chick, with ten kids at home, that stops to express milk every five minutes in the middle of a conversation.... despite her youngest being fourteen years old. I'm also the scent of patchouli oil, apple cider vinegar and marijuana. You only put up with me because I always share the good stuff and bring enough for everyone...

We're the coterie of ElderLez that have been banished to garage for our cigars, being too crass, too loud and the only water sports we play is in the bedroom.. so we're happy to be in the garage watching men's sports than listening to our nagging, ragging spouses that we're still attracted and devoted to - lesbian bed death is a myth! - but these relationships have survived by spending as little time together as possible. They have their interests, we have ours and it's all for the better. But when I'm on my death bed or she's on hers, we'll reminisce as long as it takes for that long goodnight.

I'm the butch that is running back and forth with her hands in the air, screaming in high pitch squeals as a wasp seemingly chases her from place to place. Her girlfriend doesn't move from poolside, where she rolls her eyes with her mates, saying "And she calls herself the butch one"

I’m the rules: no diving, no horseplay, no violating boundaries, no body shaming, no Crocs in pool area…

I’d go on but we’d be here all day.

r141 Which one of you bitches let this slip out? *holds up tampon*

Don't wear them in pool.

No. Just don't wear them.

Do you know how many women have died from toxic shock syndrome?

This is a tool of the toxic patriarchy and their fear of the power of woman, the lifeblood of humanity, the cunt that gave them life and they since the dawn of time have tried to control, to mutilate, to cover up in their shame, in their hatred of this divine nurturer of the earth.

We should all bleed freely!

I'm the synchronized swimming with mermaid tails that make them look more like manatees caught in an oil spill. The Sierra Club is holding a vigil on the front lawn.

I’m the severe allergic reaction to a pool cleaning chemical. This leads someone to shout ‘Is there a doctor present?’ and one womyn to confidently step forward and announce she has a PhD in Gender Studies and it is just as valid a medical doctorate. An argument ensues as skin peels off in the background.

I am this picture on 3 tshirts

I'm the big dick and balls-shaped piñata. I'm filled with pussy pops and titty snacks.

I haven’t laughed this hard in weeks. Thank you.

I'm the hostess's meemaw that crashed the party shouting LesBiFriends!!! to the hostess's mortified embarassment. The hostess will later die of this condition after granny starts doing jello shots off the tight abs of her crush.

I am "I don't care what she meant to you, Martina was never as good as Chris".

BLASPHEMY, R149!!!

Go tend to your anal warts, r130.

I'm the triggered "political" lesbian aka the real true lesbian because I choose to live free of men.. I will not lower myself to these hedonistic displays that show the corruption and influence of the powerful gaytriarchy on lesbian culture.. all these girls running around like prostitution whores. Save yourselves sisters, recommit yourself to radical feminism escape the tyranny of penetration and toxic masculinity. Stop engaging in this debasement of yourselves by giving into animal lust, you fiends! repent! repent! repent!

I'm the door prize, a Cuntomatic 3000 vibrator. I have 16 speeds, 7 directions, and 12 interchangeable vibrating heads. Requires a car battery, which is not included.

I'm the general alarm that's raised when a sickly bluish-purple streak appears in the pool. Several of the systren recoil in alarm at the possible sinister chemicals that may have touched their skin, aggravating cases of eczema, arthritis, and fibro. "I don't have the spoons for this!," one syster cries in despair.

The crisis is averted when Dez reappears from inside the cabana, where she'd been canoodling with Jess, both of them slick with pool water. Dez' hair, once proudly violet, has faded to a wan suggestion of fuchsia.

Big Mel breaks the tension with a belly laugh. "Too commitment-phobic to use permanent dye, Dez?" she taunts.

I’m the 36 year old gay male neighbor watching over the fence. I can’t believe these women and their swim attire (so many board shorts) and how loud the Melissa Etheridge is blasting. There are a lot of mixed breed dogs running around the pool and a couple of unkempt toddlers making noise. The whole thing is a mess. I shudder a bit watching an overweight woman with very hairy armpits inhale a burger. I figure that’s my cue to leave them all be.

I go inside to my sweet husband and and we laugh about it. Then we order some delivery, feed our two cats and watch Hacks.

So very sad indeed.

I'm the tinderbox dry unmown lawn. If anyone tips over that sandlewood incense I could prove fatal.

R155 Oh stop, I know you really wanted Walking Tacos, Mayonnaise Mystery Salad, and BBQ Hot Dogs instead of whatever you had delivered.

I'm the torrid waves in the pool as the gals shimmy along to U And Ur Hand by Pink.

I’m the word “lipstick” and I should have been inserted into r13 reply.

I've come dressed in my navy blues hoping to score... but it seems everyone else had the same idea and now we just look like a deranged costume party or a lesbian uniform fetish video. Ms. UPS can deliver me her package, anytime!

I’m the Tasmanian Devil tattoos.

I'm the Lynchburg Lemonade served in red Solo cups.

I'm the endless supply of queefs making bubbles in the hot tub.

I'm the lesbian neighbors shaking their heads iwith a mix of pity and disdain, sighing she'll never find a good woman at this rate... as the amazonian goddness next door decided to host a pool PARTY with just men because she's going through the so, over dyke drama phase. She still eats out every other night but she'd rather hang with the boys than be someone's toy. Marriage is so 2015.

[quote]I am the Melissa Etheridge soundtrack that gets played during said lesbian orgy.

I’m the musical theater queen reading this thread who absolutely cannot stand the misuse of the word soundtrack.

I’m the unspoken rule that no one is to look at Little Ann when she struggles to hoist herself onto a floatation device. We all remember what happened in 1992 when one of the gals offered to hold the float steady for her.

I’m the drone buzzing above this gathering. I am operated by two 14 year old boys who live down the street. The video will be posted in a few hours with some classic, teenage boy humor, interlaced with risqué and offensive songs, such as “Pour Some Sugar on Me”.

In response, I am Madge about to pull out her concealed gun and shoot that thing down in one shot, over her shoulder from behind, with a Marlboro hanging out of her lips and a Natty Light in her left hand.

I'm the news coming straight down the wire that Roe v Wade has been overturned. The gals are now all competing to see who can be the most outraged.

I’m the pack of kosher franks wondering who will use me next 😔😔😔

I'm Rhonda, the one with the mysterious bulge in my bikini bottoms.

I'm Rhonda's swollen vagina. She just thought she'd come out to the party to relax, after being told I might be stress related... it will be another year before she discovers she developed a spontaneous allergic reaction to the steel barbell in her piercing she's had for more years than she cares to count..

I'm the militant that has confiscated the pool to reduce compilations fo the long line of desperate women and girls that followed me here. So, I've the pool, gloves, a coat hanger, a copy of Enya's greatest hits, do I need anything else? Ah, yes, a pitchfork and a wood chipper., The compost is going to be great this season!

I’m all of the rainbow flags and “COEXIST” bumper stickers on the Subarus out front.

I'm Sal. I mention to Bev that I should get home to feed and walk RBG, my rescue Dalmation mix. "I certainly hope you're going to rename her now," Bev snaps. Sal snarls, "Why? Because she didn't obey orders like a good little lady? Because she didn't bow and scrape before the will of some man who told her to get back into the kitchen?"

Emotions are raw and tempers flare almost immediately as others join in. Two patio chairs, a citronella candle, a plastic bowl with chip remnants, and 3 bottles of Coors are sacrificed in the ensuing fracas.

Jeff, the gay neighbor, is frightened and picks up the phone to call the police, but his emotions overcome him as he watches MSNBC on mute. Let them rage, he thinks. Let the women rage.

^ Pure poetry!

God this thread is good. Bright spot of this entire dreadful day.

I’m the clam dip double entendre that several guests have made (to no one’s amusement of course).

I’m r178 just here to say I absolutely LOVE the “Let’s be lesbian…” threads.

The classic Lesbian Thanksgiving had me in stitches for days. Thanks, OP!

Let’s be lesbian Thanksgiving was the first thread I ever read on DataLounge

I'm fairly new to DL. Do all these "Let's be a Lesbian" threads always attract one or two lesbians claiming to be offended?

I'm the stringent cleaning solution required to sanitize the hot tub after Big Jen and Elder Lez explore each other's holes.

R180...you are SO new to DL. Bless your heart.

I’m the squirrel that frightens Denise to death.

I'm the Dreamcatchers hanging from every rear-view mirror, of every Toyota or Honda, parked on the street!

I'm picturing R180 emerging from his hollowed out tree for the first time and seeing the world with his big Bambi eyes.

I'm Trish, who stands on the diving board and yells, "Roe protest starting downtown! Anyone who wants to go with me, I have room in my Forrester!"

Like a lesbian would ever want an abortion. They spend so much time and energy and money trying to subvert the natural pregnancy process.

R187 😯😯😯

I'm the trans man dark secret showing up at the door dressed as a cowboy and asking multiple dykes for minty

*money

I’m the copious amounts of cellulite practically winking at you.

I am a wallet on a chain attached to a caribiner that has been jerry rigged into a bathing suit by poking holes in the side of it

I'm the Levi's "jorts"!

I’m this

I'm the murky water drifting back halfway through the day, due to the filter very quickly becoming clogged with body hair.

I'm the Trump douche sunglasses on half the ladies present.

I'm the flannel one-piece swimsuit.

I'm water displacement from the many tightly packed 300 pounders in the pool.

I’m the broken concrete stairs into the pool, largely due to the same.

I'm DL's lone gay male subscriber. I am unaware that everybody else who writes here is either a woman or a straight man.

I wrote 90% of the posts in this thread.

R51 and R195 must be one of those plucked chicken gay men with waxed eyebrows. Otherwise, you have way more body hair than any woman.

I’m Dawn. As the elder Lez who has seen a thing or two, I settle all disputes amongst the girls, and my judgement is strictly enforced amongst the group. I listen to both sides of the argument while I float in a floatation device while sipping a Bud Light

I'm the chat about soccer and football.

R202 love those dykes

I'm Dawn's firm 'now, now' when she senses things are getting heated among some of the scrappy baby dykes.

So Dawn is basically everyone's Mom?

Lesbian only spaces follow a hierarchical social structure; the older you are the more respect you are due.

Lesbian only spaces are highly conformist and and collectivist: The 'Dawn type' lesbian will basically act as a sheepdog to a flock patrolling the socially acceptable boundaries.

I'm an empty plastic kombucha bottle.

I'm in the paper recycling can.

Kay just spotted me. Oh, fuck, she's grabbing me and storming outside to find out who put me there and why, and how DARE they disregard the rules and boundaries of this house.

I have a feeling I'm gonna get thrown.

I’m Megan, hijacking the Bluetooth connection to the speakers and forcing everyone to listen to songs her dad loved on a Spotify playlist called “RIP Dad”.

I’m the broken diving board. The last thing I saw was a sunflower tattoo on a cankle.

I'm Jean drunkenly faux-fucking Dar with a pool noodle from Dollar Tree.

Dar's girlfriend Rae is not amused.

I'm the blow-up sex dolly floating around the pool. I'm getting more attention that some of the human attendees.

I’m the unbridled fury about gay men making this Dobbs decision about them and not even pretending to care about abortion.

RAGE!!!!!!!!

I’m the pool… I’m at a gay man’s house because no lesbian would spend the money or be able to afford installation and upkeep of a pool.

I’m the Xanax washed down with a Budweiser. I’m the only thing keeping the rage in check, otherwise the cops would need to be called.

I'm the depressing basement "rec room" -- plastic beadboard walls, an indoor/outdoor carpet on the concrete floor, and a musty, worn brown sofa -- where various offspring have been banished to watch Pixar movies. 10-year-old Jace has been told to "keep an eye on the little kids," who of course started fighting the minute the door at the top of the stairs was closed.

4 hours later, no one has come to check on the kids or bring snacks or drinks.

10 years from now, Jace will be one of the rising stars of his college's Young Conservative Club.

This is EXACTLY why I explicitly stated no kids on the invite!

Lance here checking in again. They're onto me now, l'm afraid. I must leave soon. Bobbie, the forty year-old scowling weightlifter sent her creepy trainer friend Lisle over my way.

He began using all my moves on me: putting his arm around my shoulder, and resting his hand on my knee. Can you believe these lesbians, putting him up to this?

The prettiest girl I've ever been in a body of water with--European, willowy, earthy--laughed at me because I felt anxious and awkward to strut around in a bikini, even though we were in a private yard area at the time and the country I was in (Holland) don't care about nudity. Then I was in my 20s and only a little chubby/pale, so looking back I feel ridiculous and regretful that I didn't get over my body-shame and have a more relaxed time with her. She may have even been open to fooling around in the water, and I'll never know now.

“But how do girls have sex?”

“Scissoring🐣”

Overheard comment to male neighbor: “do you even CARE if that’s fair trade coffee you’re drinking, you f’ing BASTARD!!”

I am an Elsa doll from Disney's Frozen, complete with floofy taffeta gown and real comb-able platinum blonde hair. I am discovered by the pool by a very drunk Liz, who picks me up, brandishes me, and roars, "Who's giving out this HETERONORMATIVE SHIT to impressionable girls?"

Rounds of tut-tuts and denials follow, at which point Liz curses whichever bitch is lying and uses her rugby-strengthened arm to fling Elsa into the shrubs on the far side of the pool.

2 days later the family down the block sends out an email: "Emma thinks she may have left her beloved Elsa doll at someone's house while playing with one of the neighbor kids. Please let us know if you've seen it. She's very upset. She can't seem to 'let it go' LOL. Thanks, Brad and Emily"

I’m the Harley in the driveway.

I’m “Hank’s.”

I’m all the one syllable names.

Cath, Deb, Trish, Suze, Dar, Star, Pat,

Jine

R214, Ruby here again. We met at R12, remember? The pool was built for the previous owner of the house by my firm, Rubyfruit Masonry. We specialize in concrete and masonry, and also do landscaping. Here's my card. Ask for the special friends-and-family discount.

The previous owner got the VERY special friends discount, if you know what I mean. But she up and U-Hauled it to Taos a couple years ago, and then Jez bought the place, so here we are. We do good work. Give us a call.

R187 is so weirdly investing in all women taking cock in their pussies...for a being with a cock who professes to have no sexual interest in vagine...

R228 agree, that poster is definitely a straight man or woman. I do recall someone starting a thread here claiming to be a straight man who always fell for lesbians (god knows why, there are tons and tons of straight women out there). Maybe a troll, maybe not.

[quote]The previous owner got the VERY special friends discount, if you know what I mean.

Did she pay with nature’s credit card?

I’m the 25 Subaru SUVs parked up and down the street. It’s going to be hell to figure out which car belongs to who.

I'm the failed bechdel test... which is why "lesbian pool party" is a thread and not a movie.

I'm the spoken word and interpretative dance they're forcing you to sit thru after lunch because school nurse Deb refuses to let anyone back into the pool for 30 mins.

I'm the late credit card and mortgage payments of every house on the street EXCEPT the lesbians'. Those bitches may be cheap, but they don't live on what they'll pay tomorrow. Which is why Sal and Diane felt financially secure enough to have this damn party.

I'm also the pile of Subaru keys on the deck, having fallen out of the shirt and pants pockets of the guests. Getting home is gonna be a real bitch later on.

[quote] I'm the failed bechdel test..

You probably should’ve studied harder.

I'm the psychdelics you took before before arriving... because all these bitches are your g/f's peeps and you'd rather be dead than sober with them for more than five minutes.

I'm the chlorine-bleached bush.

I'm the invasion of brits lured here by the scent of vinegar and fish.

"I'm still fuming over the pool noodle pussy play."

Uh oh.

Someone’s gonna need to rent a UHaul to move out.

I'm the one that always shows up to these events and make people uncomfortable by asking them if they have a yeast infection and will donate some for her socialist feminist bakery... there will also be one woman that will spend the rest of the event puking because even if she's a slut, she's grossed out by discovering she ate what Ms. Vaginal Yeast baker brought.

I'm the chick with the best body wearing the skimpiest swimsuit and yet never getting into the pool because a lesbian succubus and only here to cause drama between couples. All your politics can't compete with your raw animal lust.

I'm the elderlez dropping it like it's hot and mortifying all the babydykes that seem to believe that twenty years ago people were still doing the charleston.

I'm Jesse, the hunky 6'2" 20-year-old attending the state school on a lacrosse scholarship. To make some money for fun over the summer, I've taken a job cleaning and maintaining pools. It's too hot to wear a shirt, so I've peeled off my "Reliable Pools and Spas" polo and have been doing my sweaty work barechested today. My wavy brown hair is sunstreaked, and my broad chest and pecs are sunburnt.

This house was next on the roster the boss gave me this morning, so I park nearby and ring the doorbell. No answer, but music and noise in the back, so I walk back there with my long-handled pool cleaner over my shoulder and my pool chemical jug in the other hand.

When the girls spot me, there is an audible collective gasp. Man On The Land! Such a very BLATANT man on the land! Jez gets up angrily to shoo Jesse away. "I don't care WHAT your boss told you, this isn't a good day! Get outta here!"

Jeff, next door, is moist beneath his caftan, eyes wide as he watches the scene. He seizes his opportunity as Jesse ambles towards the van.. "Yoo hoo! Are you the pool guy? Can you come over here for a minute? I've been thinking of installing a pool back here. Do you work on commission....?"

[quote] Jeff, next door, is moist beneath his caftan,

Dayum!

So is r245!

Jeff sounds lonely and underlaid

R174/R244, you have talent!

He does, but how do you know that? Yeah, he sucks a mean…oh, you meant his writing.

Whoops.

The biggest loss to popular culture is that a reality show was never filmed starring Linda Lavin, Bonnie Franklin, Charlotte Rae, Bea Arthur and Rita Moreno, a'la Big Brother crossed with The Hunger Games.

Five Cunts Enter, One Cunt Leaves.

Sorry, wrong thread.

I'm the pool water turned a salty brine from all these fish and their unwashed nether regions.

I’m the peculiar odor of suntan lotion, sweat, and anger.

I’m the empty bottle of wine cooler that Tammy trips on after making a pass at Diana’s girlfriend.

I'm a zebra-print towel.

I'm the Laura Nyro cassette looped nonstop.

I’m the pool that is now blue-green due to all blue and green hair dye at the Fourth of July pool party.