I realised I’m a lesbian in my 30s but my mother has no idea

Welcome to How I Do It, the series in which we give you a seven-day sneak peek into the sex life of a stranger.

This week we hear from Indie*, a 35-year-old woman in marketing who lives in Sheffield and is in a committed relationship with her partner Marie.

Having dated a man throughout her 20s, an ‘epiphany’ once she hit 30 made her realise she’s a lesbian.

‘I was lying in bed alone, when I suddenly became extremely sad that I would never sleep with a woman,’ Indie tells Metro.

‘I tried to ignore it but over the following weeks, the feeling became stronger, so I eventually said it to my boyfriend. He didn’t take it well. He shouted that I’d tricked him and lied to him, that I wasn’t the woman he’d thought I was. I cried and agreed.’

The pair broke up and Indie moved out three weeks later — but her parents, who expected to be told their daughter was engaged or pregnant, didn’t take the news of the split well, leading her to keep her same-sex partner secret from them for the past three years.

Thankfully though, Indie is much more content in her current relationship and the pair have sex two to three times a week.

‘With men, I wanted to be wanted, but I don’t think I ever found the sex pleasurable – it was more like a performance,’ she says. ‘With Marie, nothing’s for show, it’s all about teasing, waiting, and pushing each other further.’

So without further ado, here’s how Indie got on this week…

The following sex diary is, as you might imagine, not safe for work.

Monday

It’s supposed to be a workday today but Marie and I have other things on our mind.

We don’t really have time for sex but we refuse to hurry it. With her, everything slows down. I think about how quick and rough it used to be with men, and it feels like a different life.

The first time Marie and I slept together, things were awkward to say the least. It was my first time with a woman and she jokingly referred to me as a ‘Baby Lesbian’.

I was the one to lean in for our first kiss, but immediately got embarrassed and shied away. Marie pulled me back and kissed me confidently. She led the way, and every touch unlocked something new and I could hardly handle the explosion of feelings.

Now, I flop onto the futon in her office and she climbs on top of me. I start undressing her, laughing nervously as we go. When her hand slips under my underwear I almost lose it. I’m nervous, every time. I wasn’t with men because I was just going through the motions.

Her fingers slide inside me and I breathe deeply in and out. My hand reciprocates and we grind and moan in sync. We don’t quite get to oral this time, but climax by fingering each other. I’m loud when it happens, embarrassingly so, but she just laughs and strokes my hair like it’s nothing.

Tuesday

I’m half asleep when the alarm beeps, and I turn over in bed. It still feels strange to see Marie and not the tall man who I laid next to every night through my 20s.

We don’t live together yet, but it feels like we do. Her housemate rolls her eyes affectionately when I come over and I silently pray she doesn’t start asking me to pay rent.

Marie stirs, pulls me in, her hair falling in my face. We kiss lazily until her hand moves down to my chest and I have to bite back a sound. The walls are thin, and I don’t fancy an audience.

It’s different with her. Not just the softness, there’s something closer in the way we move together. Marie calls it a contemporary dance compared to straight sex’s waltz. I think she’s right.

I kiss her face, her neck, her stomach, lingering there until she moans. Then I pull her legs around my face and go down on her. This was the biggest surprise for me; enjoying giving oral sex. The idea used to make me uneasy, and yet pleasing her (and hearing how much she loves it) is the biggest turn on of my life.

Afterwards, we get up and I make both of us coffees. We log on to our remote jobs and try to concentrate on our work, but it’s hard to focus when we’ve just been so intimate.

Wednesday

The next day, we work separately, because we don’t think we should spend every waking hour together, even though we want to. As soon as 5pm rolls around though, I’m back at her door and she opens it smiling.

‘Let’s take a bath together,’ she says, grinning. If a man had asked me, I’d have said no. It’s too cheesy like something he’d have seen in a film and thought was romantic. The thought makes me cringe.

But with her, I say yes. I want to please her. She’s lit candles, put a meditation playlist on, and we fold ourselves into her tiny tub without soaking the whole bathroom.

We face each other, knees and legs tangled. I close my eyes and just feel her skin against mine. We don’t speak, which feels strange at first, then completely fine. We lose track of time, relaxing and gently touching each other.

The spell breaks when my phone rings on the sink. It’s my mum. She doesn’t know about us yet, and the sight of her name makes my stomach drop. She has no clue I’m gay — I’ve never given the slightest hint — and I don’t know if she’ll approve. When my ex-boyfriend and I broke up, I told her we’d grown apart. That was a half-truth.

For all her liberal ideas, I’m not convinced she’ll be pleased when it comes to my sexuality. I’m putting the inevitable conversation off, but it’s eating me up inside. I know our bubble can’t last forever.

Thursday

It’s nearly 11pm and we’ve forgotten to eat again. I keep coming over straight from work, and we barely make it to the bed before undressing.

We stop and start, kissing, touching, laughing, then going again until one of us collapses. We attempt the 69 position, both giving oral. It’s impossible to concentrate when my body is trembling at the touch of her tongue, but I want to please her, too. I finish before her (loudly) but carry on until she begins to shake.

We rest in each other’s arms, and I’m gently stroking her breasts. She loves it if I tease her nipples, so within 10 minutes, we’re back at it and I’m working my way down to give her head.

There’s no definitive end point to woman-on-woman sex — it can go for hours — and, these days, we’re barely getting any sleep at night. With men, it would be 20 minutes of sex at best for me, but this is a feat of endurance. We both have insatiable sexual appetites, and never want to stop. 

Eventually, we order an emergency pizza and then eat it in bed, sauce dripping on the sheets while music plays in the background. She teases me about how I never realised I might be queer, and I can’t believe I didn’t question my sexuality sooner.

Friday

Work’s over and I’ve invited Marie to mine for once. I’m pretty sure my housemates think she’s just a friend.

I’ve only just moved in and haven’t exactly announced I’m seeing a woman. Somehow it feels childish – coming out has made me feel like a teenager again and I don’t know how to introduce my girlfriend to the world.

We eat dinner on my bed then put on a film, but we don’t watch a second of it. Instead, we talk.

Although we agree it’s too soon, we discuss marriage — what our dream wedding would look like. Committing to a man felt big and scary, but with her it feels natural. I already imagine a future with the two of us in it. Maybe we’ll even have kids.

I never spoke like this with guys. Admittedly, I tried to be the cool girl, acting like I didn’t have much to say. But frankly, it’s not like they asked me many questions, either. Bed was for sleeping or sex, and the latter was over quickly most of the time.

With Marie, I can’t stop talking. We never run out of things to say and I’m endlessly interested in her life. We stay up way later than we planned. I don’t remember falling asleep.

Saturday

I’ve been at bottomless brunch with my cousin, and Marie’s been out with friends, so we meet up in the city centre. We’re both tipsy, but head for more drinks and end up in a club with sticky floors.

We’re dancing close and kissing. At first it’s fun, then suddenly I feel like people are looking at us from every dark corner. The PDA that felt hot a second ago feels like a performance.

I pull away and go to the toilets. She follows, asking if I’m okay. I say yes, but my face gives me away. I admit I feel weird about being so public. That it feels fake somehow. She takes it the wrong way. We bicker, and she storms out.

I end up crying in a toilet stall. A stranger hears me and tells me to go after her. So I do.

I catch up with her and apologise. We walk to her place with me over-explaining how I feel; saying I’m trying my best and begging her to understand all of this is new to me. She says she does, but I can still feel a slight distance between us as we walk.

Sunday

We sleep in late after talking it out and having make up sex. When I wake up, I pull her close and tell her I’m glad we’re fine now.

She’s slow to come around, but slides into me, wrapping her legs around mine. We grind on each other’s thighs as we kiss, and I climax fast. She’s not there yet, and so I slide my hand down and bring her to orgasm.

Something comes over me, and I blurt out I’ve never felt this close to anyone before. Not just in bed, but in general. But I immediately feel like I’ve overshared.

But I know it’s all true. With Marie, when she touches me, I don’t think about how I look or sound. I just give in to her. It still surprises me every time. I’m entirely present in the moment.

I can’t believe I spent years ignoring this side of myself. I never thought I could be this happy, I feel like I’ve finally found myself. She’s my home.

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