My submission to this site was going to begin like this:
The night started the same way these nights tend to start. Close friends and a few drinks.
It was about a small group of mothers, ba’al teshuvas, who join a mom’s get-a-way shabbaton. These good friends went to be with each other, and away from their families for a short while. They all had a past, as BT’s tend to, some more colorful than others. Friday night, after the seudah, they get together in one of their rooms, break out the schnapps, and a lively ask-me-anything ensues. The more sensible and refined ones leave. Eventually it gets too late and nonsensical, the hostess is passed out in her bed, and only 2 ladies are left. Sarah, the dainty polished one, and Devorah, more practical and outspoken. Sarah asks: How many men have you made love to? And Devorah, because she’s drunk, confesses that, “Actually, Sarah, I don’t make love to men, I fuck them.
“I make love to women.”
So Sarah is shocked and abruptly leaves to go to her room. Her reaction gets Devorah sobered up real-quick. She is immediately regretful and terrified of the consequences of what happened realizing that if word ever got out, her family would be destroyed. “Dear G-d, please help! What have I done?!”
After a restless sleep, Devorah wakes up Shabbos morning and tries to clear her head. After a brief stop at the tea room, she takes her Tehillim and walks out to the forest behind the hotel and begins to pour her heart out to Hashem. She doesn’t even hear Sarah coming up behind her, and was startled into reality when she put her hands on her back and her head between her shoulder blades.
And the rest, dear reader, might not be fit for print. Oh, it’s all there: The placement of each hand, each body, passion, arousal, and a sefer Tehillim that fell to the ground.
After the, well, climax, of the story I then shock the reader by admitting that this never actually happened. (“What?! No!”)
I then proceed to tell… the real story.
But after some consideration, I decided to skip the whole Devorah-Sarah-Shabbaton story. I realized that I feared rejection: Either from the editors based on the erotic content. Or from the readers. Because perhaps my fantasies are just so shallow and predictable, they induce more eye rolling than anything else. (But if they are, please tell me. I’d like to work on them.)
Thank you for reading my rather verbose introduction. I’ll go ahead now. To the real story.
There are very few things which I can say that are true about that story. The first is that, like Devorah, I’m woman, a mother, a wife, and I am deeply and intimately attracted to other women. The second, is the fear of hurting my family. And because of my devotion to them, and this life I chose, I will never, under any circumstances come out about this attraction.
But from childhood’s hour, I have not been as others were. I was always passionate, but immature. I loathe to label myself, but I’ll say that being attracted to either gender helped me look at the cup half full side. There are advantages to men.
Well, life isn’t all about sex, and so I eventually found frumkeit. Once I devoted myself to it, my sexuality flatlined, and life turned grey. I didn’t notice it happen then. I was too busy being religious. Everything is for the best.
My life is, thank G-d, very good. My husband is kind and giving. I love my children. They are still quite young. We have what we need. In this frum life I’ve had joy, sorrow, challenges, and accomplishments.
I am very spiritual. The Torah is true. There is right and wrong. And these feelings, or the idea that I should, G-d forbid, express this side of me and hurt those close to me, is wrong.
So it’s true, I am attracted to women. It’s true, I am fearful. But one thing did not make this story, although it’s in so many others: Longing. Craving. Urges. I feel like a vampire trying to live peacefully among humans. G-d, did you make any other creatures like me? Am I really all alone? Is there anyone there who fears for her future and her family, yet longs for a woman to caress them? G-d, is there someone who craves my breath on her neck, my slender hands to satiate her desires? It’s only the fear that keeps me far enough away from you that I can’t even smell you, or G-d forbid you’d notice my eyes close, so briefly, just in that simple pleasure.
I am right wing yeshivish, in my 30’s. Our kids are in the right schools. I carpool. My husband davens at the right shuls. My sheitels are just right. So is my hemline. So is my smile. I know how to be the sheifeleh I need to, and I am. We have a good reputation, dear G-d, please help me.
I am alone. The internet says so. There are simply no anonymous groups or forums for women like me. If there were others, there would be such groups, there must. You can’t feel the way I feel and do nothing forever.
I’m typing this at the bottom of a cookie recipe I have saved on my computer. I’ll cut and paste it into the Neshamas submission box and then find the clipboard and delete it with Hashem’s help. I have an anonymous email account I log into for seconds at a time. No one emails me there. I keep in touch with Eschel and other groups, but I never meet them.
No one has ever seen my face and known the truth about me.
But now someone has read me. Thank you.