An Ode To The Chapstick Lesbian

Thank you for keeping your lips so wonderfully hydrated, they’re like, really fun to kiss.

This is my ode to the chapstick lesbian.

Photo by istock

Some of you might be wondering, “What the hell is a chapstick lesbian? These f*cking baby dykes always HAVE TO LABEL everything!” Some of you might be familiar with the term, or maybe even identify as a chapstick yourself.

And some of you, like our very own GO Mag publisher Amy Lesser, might inherently understand what a chapstick lesbian is, without needing any explanation at all.

“She’s a total chapstick lesbian” our new staff-writer/editor Dayna Troisi said to both of us the other day, describing a hot lez she had recently encountered.

“I know exactly what you mean. Never heard the term, but I know exactly what you mean.” Amy firmly answered, gazing confidently into the distance.

A chapstick lesbian is a very specific breed of lesbian, indeed. She’s vastly different than a lipstick lesbian. I’m a lipstick lesbian, which means I slap dark brooding shades of lipstick onto my lips before I leave the house.

I wear lipstick to the gym. Lipstick lezzies demand attention everywhere we go. Don’t let us tell you otherwise. We wouldn’t adorn our mouths with deep red lacquer if we were trying to “fly under the radar.”

Chapstick lesbians are a little bit more subtle. To the naked eye, they can appear like they don’t give a f*ck about vanity. Like they’re far too “preoccupied” with their busy careers and their intramural softball leagues to care about something as shallow as their looks. But really, they do. Otherwise, they wouldn’t care about how ~plush~ the texture of their lips looked and felt. Trust me, they know the little bit of dewiness on the lips that their trusty chapstick provides makes them look sexy as hell. In fact, I would say chapsticks lesbians are the vainest of us all. I know this because I’ve slept with loads of them.

Chapstick lesbians are very much like gay men. They’re well-kempt. Their fingernails are always clipped to perfection, and very, very clean. They walk around the world with freshly scrubbed, pink little faces. Their hair is combed. Their navy peacoat just got back from the dry cleaners. They’re a little neurotic about their homes, and high femmes drive them crazy. They’re attracted to us, but we annoy the hell out of them, leaving our makeup wipes in the bathroom, getting lipstick all over their white sheets, leaving our weaves everywhere. Femmes are very messy because it takes a lot of accessories to look like this. My girlfriend (a textbook chapstick dyke) calls it “Zara drag.”

“Your drag shit is everywhere!” she’ll scream, as she picks up a gold faux Chanel necklace that I’ve left strewn across the stove, or somewhere else entirely inappropriate. Chapstick lesbians are naturally uptight. That’s part of the whole chapstick compulsion. “I can’t have dry lips! I’ll die if everything isn’t perfect!”

A chapstick lesbian is also, contrary to popular opinion, quite different than a butch lesbian. Both veer toward the handy end of the spectrum (femmes are useless creatures, or maybe that’s just me?) but a butch is much more hardcore than a chapstick. A butch whips out the power tools and goes to town dry-walling and whatnot. A chapstick might pretend she knows how to use the power tool, but truthfully she can hardly swing a hammer. She’s better with technology. In fact, she’s usually a graphic designer, or a video editor, or a bro-slayer at some start-up tech firm. She’ll clean up your computer, upgrade your phone for you and rewire your entire apartment.

I know it sounds like I’m dogging on chapstick dykes, but I actually love chapstick dykes (a little too much). I couldn’t function without them (I told you I’m useless!). Anytime I can’t figure out some weird bug on WordPress, I dial up one of the many chapstick dykes I have on call and scream “I AM HAVING WORDPRESS ISSUES! THE SITE IS GOING TO CRASH!” making a big show out of being helpless. A chapstick always saves the day. They can’t resist a damsel in distress. Even if they don’t want to stop what they’re doing, they always will. They have a shit ton of pride, much to our (my) advantage and can’t emotionally handle not FIXING THE PROBLEM.

They’re also excellent drinkers. A butch and femme can make for a messy duo at the local dyke bar. A butch loves to slug back her beer and chase it with some whiskey, while femmes chug champagne like their going to the electric chair and tend to have an irrepressible thirst for tequila shots. We egg each other on at the bar and end up making poor decisions like hooking up with each other when we’re still not over our exes, or deciding to go to a terrible bro bar next, and getting into some form of altercation when the bro hits on the femme and the butch gets pissed at the disrespect. Oh, god those nights are the worst.

A chapstick, on the other hand, can hold her booze. She will slowly sip on a chic Moscow Mule and keep a watchful eye over her hot mess friends, like me. She knows when it’s time to go home, which is excellent because I never know when to go home, which is why I’m a total chapstick hag!

Some famous chapsticks throughout history;  Ellen DeGeneres (I wouldn’t dare leave a makeup wipe on her sink!), Rachel Maddow, Dana from the L Word, and Oh! Jackie Warner! She’s the freaking poster girl of the Chapstick Lez life.

Ruby Rose is NOT a chapstick lesbian. She’s a total butch and is not fooling me with all that hair and makeup. Left to her own devices, she would exclusively rock ribbed tanks with no bra and a tool belt (swoon!).

So kittens, let’s take a moment today and to give thanks to all the wonderful chapsticks in our lives. Thank you for keeping your lips so wonderfully hydrated, they’re like, really fun to kiss. Thank you for magically fixing the television and for windexing in the sink. Thank you for being so sexy and thank you for keeping the chapstick industry alive and well. People have jobs because of your obsessive need to remain ~dewy lipped~ and ~soft-skinned~.

Oh, and message me on Facebook. You’re SO my type.





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