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I think my window of opportunity to become a lesbian has officially closed.

As a happily married soon-to-be-40-year-old, it seems pretty certain I’ll never have an intimate dalliance with a member of the female gender. How depressing is that! I’m going to go down in the annals of personal sexual history for never going down. This acknowledgement will undoubtedly cause a major nosedive in my hip factor among my more sexually adventurous peers.

When I was in high school, if you were a female who clearly preferred the ladies, you became the object of derision.  To be called a lesbian was tantamount to being called a leper. I vaguely remember a very manly girl named RJ who wore army fatigues every day to school. She was never referred to by her proper name; instead, she was disparagingly referred to as “The Big Dyke.” Wide acceptance of homosexuality had not yet hit the mainstream. Remember, folks, I went to high school during the Reaganesque, ultra-conservative pre-Ellen days.

Fast forward a couple of decades, and lesbians have become de rigueur in trendy circles. Having a same-sex dalliance is seen as commonplace nowadays. It seems that nearly every woman under 35 has knocked boots with a sister at one time or another. I guess I am considered passé, as my sexual experiences have all involved men (or boys posing as men). However, over the years I have acquired a short list of famous women that I would do in a heartbeat:

• In 1991, the object of my female affection was the pumped-up Linda Hamilton from Terminator 2. She was sooooo bad-ass.
• In 1996, I developed a girl-crush on Gena Gershon in the movie Bound.  Tattoos, curled upper lip, tight white tank top splattered with paint. Need I say more?
• In 2002, Catherine Zeta-Jones joined the list when she played Velma Kelly in Chicago. Cell block tango. Mmmm.
• My most recent addition to the list is Kate Winslet. Sure, she’s not as tough as Linda, Gena or Catherine, but she’s got so much friggin’ class. I’ve dug her since Titanic: She’s curvy, confident and wicked talented. Seeing her naked on the cover of Vanity Fair last year cemented her place at the top of the list.

Despite my occasional imaginings involving gorgeous, powerful women, I love love love me the tube steak. Always have, and always will.

Although, to be fair, I can’t be certain that I wouldn’t also enjoy snacking on something a little different. Unfortunately, I was never given the right opportunity to try out the offerings at the Betty buffet. In college, I received a delicious backrub that could have easily turned into more from a pretty girl in my dorm (I chickened out and ran back to my room to listen to INXS and masturbate.) In my early 20s, I had a drunken slow dance with a female co-worker at a birthday party. Again, I had the perfect invitation to taste the forbidden fruit, but decided to snog the idiot from accounting instead.

Naturally, my sexual experimentations changed when I got married. Michael and I have a terrific sex life, and I have no desire to go sniffing around for another bed buddy. While I am sure I could twist his arm to consider a one-time, playful three-way, it ultimately seems like more hassle than it would be worth. I’d have to get a babysitter, do the big shave and brush up on ménage à trois etiquette.  I guess I’m destined to be one of those fuddy-duddy women who will go to her grave having never eaten at the Y. Frankly, I’d rather just pop in a movie and cuddle with my hubby.

If I’m lucky, we’ll watch Terminator 2, Bound, Chicago, or Titanic.

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