I’m grateful the queer community has talked more about consent in recent years. I know one of the challenges I faced when I started dating as a queer person was learning how to say no. And, unfortunately, I encountered more experienced people who took advantage of that inability. But I also know that’s just one type of encounter. The movie fantasy of Desert Hearts doesn’t give queer people a carte blanche to ignore verbal cues—I just think we can learn something from Cay Rivvers and this scene.
When I watch Desert Hearts now, I think of a few people. I think of the (older) baby queer I matched with on Tinder who disappeared and who I followed up with a month later anyway. I think about how, because of that follow-up, we spent a night together where, following her lead, we stopped at making out with clothes on. I think about how that person is now so much more settled in their queerness—with their sexuality and their gender.
I also think of the married mom I met in a small midwestern city. I think about how she secretly identified as a lesbian even though she was trapped in a marriage to a shitty man. I think about our two nights together and how she grasped at me like a life source even as she expressed her guilt and doubts. I think about how I hope there are more women in her future, more opportunities to be herself that are less fleeting.
And I think about my Cays. I think about the queer woman who offered me the lipstick. I think about the queers I hooked up with when I was new to queer dating. I think about the ones who kissed me when I was too scared to kiss them, of the ones who touched me in ways I wouldn’t know how to ask for, and who stopped when they could tell I wasn’t ready. I think about the ones who kept going when they knew I was.
Posted 10 days ago.
