A night out on the town with a good girlfriend in West Hollywood is how I met her.

To be fair, it was a gay nightclub. It wasn't out of the norm for me. Most of my teenage years and adult life have been spent at LGBTQ events because the majority of my friends are lesbians.

She and I drunkenly exchanged IG accounts and later on that week, and days later, phone numbers were shared as a result of us sliding in each other's DMs.

I should have run for the hills during the first week for many reasons. Am I the only one that feels like being "babe" right away is a sign of crazy? I mean, unless they are super fine or something and she was cute or whatever, but she was still…she.

I didn't realize how much of a she, she really was until she was screaming in my bed and her vagina was literally contracting on my face though.

I'm sorry if that last sentence startled you but the whole situation startled me. How did I let things get here? I initially knew I wasn't interested when she started acting the same way I acted with men. In fact, I felt like I was looking in a mirror at myself most days and the phrase, "You're tripping," really came full circle for me during our time spent together.

At one point, I had even asked if she was "on her period or something."

Gradually, I progressed more and more into being a f*ckboy - but definitely not a lesbian.

The whole thing took place over a course of maybe two weeks. Which is incredibly too short of a time for anything that happened to have transpired. One of my good girlfriends referenced a favorite joke of hers during a briefing of my feelings via phone one day: "What do lesbians bring on a first date? A U-haul truck."

Yes y'all, after spending the night at my place once, she asked me if she could keep a few things at my place because she was downsizing her storage unit. By a few things, I mean actual whole ass furniture. When I said hell to the naw, I think she knew I wasn't as invested in this whole situationship as she was because the vibes changed.

Now, let me tell you about the one and only time she did sleepover.

If I'm being honest, I feel like she set me up, as far as sex was concerned. I do find women attractive, but my desire to pursue a romantic friendship with her was based on her more masculine traits and characteristics.

We even discussed how she preferred to not be touched down there and was more of a pleaser. It sounded perfect. I'm not much of a vagina toucher outside of the occasional threesome or well, my own.

So, per our discussions, I was genuinely confused after two or three jack and cokes how aggressive she was about pushing my face down under. I mean, I handled my business but...it was just so fleshy, stubbly, and moist - it was nothing at all like the oral I was used to.

When all was said and done, she collapsed onto my chest with the goofiest smile. She kept emphasizing how there was no way I could have never been intimate with just one girl before.

Truthfully, I'm glad that I now know that if needed, I absolutely can rock a girl's world - even if I'm cringing the entire time. I mean, I don't think I could compete in the Vagina Olympics or anything but I'm not too shabby either!

Oh, but wait. That same night, I caught her going through my phone when I came out of the bathroom. In the morning, I woke up to her fresh out of the shower, walking around in her bra and panties looking comfortable as ever. She asked me if I wanted her to make me something to eat.

Inside, I was screaming, GET OUT OF MY HOUSE WOMAN! I knew that once she was gone, I might have to ghost her forever. It was just too much for me.

She eventually got the hint and stopped calling. We unfollowed each other on the gram. It was done. Phew.

In self-reflection, I know this whole thing transpired out of loneliness on my end and overall, this girl truly was lovely. Aside from the clingy, quickly obsessed, and having a vagina thing, it could have been great!

Like all life experiences, I did take away some valuable lessons.

The first being how unattractive neediness can come off to a partner. There is something to be said about someone checking in with you regularly, but quite another to demand responses and answers in unreasonable amounts of time. Another take on this could be if you don't feel like you are getting enough attention, maybe the other person just don't like you in that kind of way. I can't say for sure that had I been fully interested in her, those behaviors would not have agitated me so much. But unwanted, neediness definitely further widened the wedge between my interest in her and my disinterest in her.

Then, in conflict with the amount of joy I find in a night out in West Hollywood, the most important lesson I took away here is this:

I, Jessica Schrody, lover of all things Davion, Lamont, and joysticks, am definitely not a lesbian.

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