If you know me, you know that I was once married to a
man. Now that man dates guys and I date
women. (This fact, I think, makes my
opposite-sex marriage a gay marriage, doesn’t it? Just something to think about.)
I knew I was a lesbian before I married him all those
years ago, and he knew I was too. Why,
then, were we attracted enough to each other to get hitched?
I can’t speak for my ex-husband, but I think, in some
ways, I was his starter boyfriend. Being
with me was kind of like being with a guy, but my vagina made it socially
acceptable. When he eventually came out
to his mother last year, he even told her that being with me was basically like
being with a guy, because, as he told her, “Tami likes outdoorsy stuff, and to
wrassle.”
So what attracted me to him? There’s nothing feminine or girly about him
physically. Aside from being a male
nurse, he’s a fairly butch guy, in that nerdy caffeinated gamer kind of
way. My ex-husband was and is a great
guy. He’s kind, funny, smart, and
sensitive. But why did I first want to
make out with him?
I’ve never had a good solid answer to this question until
recently, but it turns out that it’s all because of his facial hair. While discussing our mutual man-crush on
Robert Downey Jr., a fellow lesbian pointed out the following: “I think a man with a goatee looks like he
has a vagina sitting right up on his face.”
My ex-husband, as it turns out, has had a goatee since we
first met in high school. Interestingly,
the only time I can ever recall him shaving his goatee was to dress as Dr. Frank
N. Furter to attend a midnight showing of Rocky Horror. (I, of course, went as Eddie, complete with
mutton chop sideburns.)

I have now seen my relationship with my ex-husband
through a new lens; I was his starter boyfriend and his goateed face was my
starter vagina. Isn’t that romantic?
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