The Story of a Muslim Teen.

Seventeen years (and 2 days) in a Muslim household, yet I have thrown out all my teachings and accepted the “lesbian lifestyle.” (Note to readers: My mother won’t find out until my next birthday!) I suppose I should start from the beginning, shouldn’t I? Well, I kissed a girl and I liked it. (I love you so much, Katy Perry.)

I was barely 9 years old, and at a pool party (all-girls, of course) and my 10-year-old best friend who shan’t be named apparently had her first kiss and wanted to teach me how. So we kissed underwater in the pool so no one would see. Yet, it was too conspicuous. We went into the bathroom together to “take showers.” That day, I had my first kiss. That day was my first French kissing experience. To be perfectly frank, I enjoyed it. I enjoyed it a lot. Being Muslim, however, I didn’t know what a lesbian was, but I know that what I did was wrong. I did a lot wrong after that, also. I got a boyfriend, then another, then another, then another. If I sinned once, I could do it again, no problem, right?

From sixth grade to 10th grade, I had a series of boyfriends and quite the list of female sexual partners. My boyfriends weren’t… Enough. And I wanted more with the girls. I was stuck. And then I met her. To keep her privacy, we’ll call her Flower, because, to me, she is as beautiful as a flower. It was the beginning of this school year, my junior year, and we immediately formed a strong friendship. Well, she, another girl, and I formed a strong friendship but that other is irrelevant (for now). Every single day after we finished our classes, we had fries and a milkshake (quite the healthy diet, I know) and we would talk about everything – everything as in all the newest guys in my life. I always hugged her a little closer and longer than Not-Flower. I was extra-touchy with Flower, extra-sensual with Flower, extra-giggly with Flower. I had no idea what it meant.

One day, being the rebellious teenagers that we are, we decided to get me, the “devout” Muslim, drunk. Every day for one week, the morning before classes, I’d try shots of different alcohol. Turns out, my preference was for rum, the one alcohol Flower bought for me. I told her I was in love with her – tipsy, woozy, and madly in love with her. She kissed me and I could swear, the world stopped breathing for a split moment. The stars collided and hymns were sung because lo-and-behold, I was in love with the magnificent Flower. She proceeded to tell me she doesn’t like girls “in that way.” It has been eight months since that encounter and I still hold her hand and gaze into her eyes and long for her. Without saying a single word, I came out to her, to all onlookers, and the entire 240-student population of my school. AND. IT. FELT. GREAT.

Something had changed in me. I welcomed these feelings of longing towards this LADY. I invite you to follow me and my days with Flower, my heterosexual best friend i.e. the love of my life and the eternal tormentor of my heart. Sleeping (over) with girls every weekend for almost three years, with my (sometimes-suspecting) mother and her prayer mat in the next room, nobody the wiser, and I fall in love with a heterosexual. Where’s a four-leaf clover when you need one? Hey, at least I admitted my homosexuality (kinda)! I hereby welcome you to the story of my (not-so-secret) life!