I Had To Put My Lesbian Life In The Closet And Get Married

I grew up in middle class Puerto Rico. My father was the classic male macho and my mother classic obedient submissive. I was the oldest, I have two younger sisters. We went to the parish Catholic school and I hated the uniforms. I hated more the floral blouses my mother made me, the pink curtains in my room. I hated my days in the kitchen, or behind the mop and the broom. When I got older if I liked a girl I got jealous if someone talked to her. I developed strong urges. I kissed this girl during a basketball game, on the cheek, but I kissed her. She got up and moved calling me gay and a lesbian.

In the tenth grade I developed a crush on Lisbet and made sure I sat by her for lunch and we did things on weekends. Her mother and my mother were friends and they were happy we were friends too. In my bedroom, with the pink curtains and pink bedspread I made her show me her panties. I showed her my panties, and pulled them up so tight against my pussy. I shaved for bikini panties, I shaved her for a bikini panties. I kissed her pussy and caressed her tits and kissed her mouth and told her that we were girlfriends.

We went to San Juan to go to college. We lived in a private dormitory. Without parental supervision we, or me, I went crazy with her. I could kiss her, hold her, sleep with her, touch her. I shaved her every other day so her pussy was always groomed and pretty. I sucked her tits with my eyes closed. I ate her on her back, and standing over her bed leaning over. I told her I loved her, I told her we were going to live together. Some days she wanted nothing, some days she just wanted to kiss and sleep together. Some days she wanted to open her legs and let me kiss her. She told me she loved me and she wanted to live together.

After college she had to go back to work with her parents in their import export business. My mother's sister invited me come to Texas and live with her. She was in her late thirties and an active lesbian, with a wide ranging social group. I met lesbians for sex, and felt guilty to Lisbet. I got a job a with a private company and the man liked me and I worked in the management office with him. He touched me, he kissed me, he pushed me to have sex with him. I pushed back, and as soon as I could afford it I was bringing my girlfriend to live with me.

He told me he wanted me, in bed with him. He wanted me in the kitchen. He wanted me to buy his underwear for him. He didn't want me to tell him about women's empowerment or liberation or the LBGT movement. He took me to his house and watched me do laundry. He made me wear dresses, floral print dresses. He wanted pink panties. He wanted bows in my hair. He wanted me feminized and submissive. He wanted my mother and he was my father.

He took my virginity. I washed the clothes and cooked and cleaned the apartment. I told him I wanted a house or I wouldn't have children. I wore pink panties and floral dresses. I put my hands around his arm and looked up to him. My sisters were bridesmaids, I wore a long white gown and earrings. I recited my vows, the older version, promising obedience and children. I didn't talk about LGBT or about women's empowerment. I channeled my mother.

I had three girls and named them Maria Eugenia, Maria Clara and Maria Ximena. I dressed them in pink and flowers and tutus. I played tea time with them, and doll time with them, and they had strollers for their 'babies'. I heard Lisbet got married. I cried for three days and nights. I want to be happy for her but I can't, I want her here with me. I don't want to hear that she went on a honeymoon or that she is pregnant. I want my husband to understand that I love her, and I can't stand losing her.