My sister texted me, “What is scissoring?” at about two in the afternoon. I didn’t answer, not even wanting to go there with her. Her forwardness regarding “queer questions” was not new to me; her very first question to me the first time she’d seen me since I’d come out, she was crying at an airport, tear-stained cheeks and all, “Do you really like muff diving?”
So this is what people want to know if they have no filter. Pretty damn vulgar for a 30-something mother of a one and a half.
And then, two hours later, she texted me again, “What is scissoring?”
Apparently this was eating her alive. She had to know. Should I tell her to look up “tribadism”?
Naaaaah. I’ll let her suffer. I giggled, still refusing to answer the text, maybe enjoying this little game a bit too much. I pictured my sister, big-bellied, after her son had fallen asleep for his afternoon nap, sneak on to her computer and google “scissoring” all nervous, head twitching around to make sure no one saw her and maybe mistook her for a gay person.
Ha.
I’ll never tell.
But when you do google it, here is hilarity.
Everyone’s got an opinion. (Below, look closely at the other names for scissoring that this guy listed: Smelly Time? Pussy Locking?
This article appears in August 1 • 2008.