It started to happen without me even realizing it. I had no clue it would lead to so much controversy, but now I’m an object that people argue about. I came out as gay last year. Broke up with a great guy because of it. So when Danny came over that day, and we made out on an Oldsmobile, I got confused. And then I became brilliant.

I’d invite Danny over when my parents were out, and bring him upstairs. Onto the bed, under the sheets, off with the clothes. After six or seven times, I told Danny I thought I really liked him. I told him he was my only exception. And when I said that, it scared him off. I did it all on purpose, because once Danny was gone, I could move on to a new guy.

I was enticing, the lesbian who made an exception just for one boy. Who lost her virginity to that one boy. Or that’s what each one thought. That’s when it became a game for me. I loved the thrill of a different guy each month. The risk of others finding out what I was doing. And I just kept on going. Until one boy found me out. Told the world I wasn’t really lesbian. I was fine with this, because boys would still follow me up the stairs while they undid their belt buckles.

The thrill, however, was gone. The risk taken away from me. People knew I wasn’t really a pure, lesbian girl, no matter what I said. My game was lost. My lie was uncovered. And now people stare at me, and whisper.  “That whore. That lying whore.” And hell, it’s the truth now.