Unless you’re in grade school or younger (and if you are, please log off — this blog is not for you), there are things that make you realize you’re getting older.
In junior high your 
body changes. In high school, you get the driver’s license experience. In your twenties, you have college or moving out on your own. Or the pressure to move out. Or the begging and pleading and cajoling to a please move the fuck out already!
Then you turn thirty and everything starts making you feel old. You stop getting carded in bars. Baristas start calling you “ma ‘am.” You sit down to watch the Grammys and have no idea who anyone is.
I also understand that for heterosexuals the clock starts tick-tocking on when you’ll get married and start reproducing. I did not experience this, because when I was that age, marriage equality wasn’t even on the horizon. Perhaps now that it exists, thirty-something lesbians and gay men feel the same pressure to get married, but I haven’t seen any studies or the matter, so I can’t be sure.
For far too long there’s been a feud between lesbians and bisexual women … sort of an LGBT Hatfields and McCoys. Some lesbians apparently think that bisexual women are just refusing to admit that they’re actually gay and claim to be bisexual to keep a foot in the hetero word. And there are those who warn that bisexuals always go back to the D. As one who’s been dumped for both the D and the V, let me just say for the record that they both suck. Finally there’s the camp that says being in a relationship with a bi woman means making allowances for her to dabble in her other gender attractions. 
Pucker Up Buttercup 