My Weekend Kiss

So let’s talk about The Kiss. Let’s really, really talk about The Kiss. The song may say a kiss is just a kiss, but the reality is often so much more complicated. A kiss, The Kiss, is always more when it comes to gay relationships both on screen and in real life. Something as simple as a smooch takes on complex cultural and socio-political ramifications when you’re gay. I know, and all you wanted to do was make out with your girlfriend.

So then, let’s talk about The Kiss. The thing is The Kiss wasn’t even the first kiss. That was the small peck shown earlier in the episode. The first kiss was the briefest of A-frames, a split-second lip touch we gives to our loved ones almost without thinking. A “I love you”-drive-by by way of your lips. But The Kiss, the one at the Sugar Shack, well, that’s different. And, as we all know, that kiss wasn’t really their first kiss either. But their first on-screen kiss. And in short, it was perfect. I could go on for a couple days about how perfect, but it was all there, the love, the tenderness, the passion. Granted, no tongue. But, hey, this isn’t Showtime.

But what I’m more interested in, besides the gorgeous aesthetics, is what led to them. Instead of just having them deliver their long-overdue first kiss – the one us faithful on the S.S. Brittana had been screaming for since the beginning – they made sure to make a point. Which is, why can’t gay couples kiss just like straight couples – on TV, in the street, at school, anywhere for public consumption? What’s with the insane double standard that lets Finn and Rachel suck face for several uncomfortable minutes but that takes nearly three seasons to let Santana and Brittany touch lips?

In short, to quote Santana, it’s bullcrap. Gay couples should get to kiss in public just like straight couples. We shouldn’t have to worry who a simple sign of love might offend. What someone might say. What someone might do. Yet, all too often, we do. Or, at the very least, we know and we don’t care. If I want to hold your hand when we go out, I’m going to hold your hand. If I want to give you a kiss on the cheek when we’re sitting together, I’ll give you a kiss on the cheek. If I want to kiss you at the Valentine’s Day dance, I will damn well kiss you at the Valentine’s Day dance. But there’s the thing, there’s always – even if only in the backs of our heads – the moment of recognition that someone might object. And it’s not there for straight couples, and that’s fucking bullcrap.

Granted, I’m not talking about some gratuitous make-out session here with hands up shirts and down pants and all over. Gay, straight, whathaveyou – that’s the “get a room” kind of stuff that should be private. But the everyday affections – the little kisses and big hugs and long lingers – those we should all share all the time because they make us more human. In the end, we’re really not that different. All I want to be able to do is kiss my girlfriend. And you should be able to kiss your boyfriend or your wife or your husband or your non-labeled, full-committed life partner whenever and wherever. Because kissing is awesome. And everyone should do it more. Happy weekend, all.

p.s. Oh ye of little faith who were impatiently waiting for me to get my Brittana on this week. Have I ever jumped ship, ladies? Our girls sure have come a long way. And what better way to seal it than with a kiss. Once more, from the beginning. Le sigh.

The Kiss

I will, very soon, have so much more to say about the Big Glee Valentine’s Episode. But for now, because love is still very much in the air, please enjoy The Kiss. I don’t know about you, but my heart grew three sizes that day. Perfect ladies, simply perfect.

Tank Top Tuesday

The great thing about tank tops, besides their minimal fabric and maximum hotness, is the way they cling. A tank top knows how to fit the body. It knows where to hug and where to give. It’s a giver like that. So on someone like, say, Hope Solo, a tank top knows to get the hell out of the way, and just let that back do all the talking. Which, not entirely coincidentally, is precisely what I’m going to do as well.

Claudia BlackI probably should have watched “Farscape,” huh?

Nikki ReedI remember Nikki before she was in all this “Twilight” hoo-ha and just wanted to kiss Evan Rachel Wood.

Rosario DawsonRosario is one of the most consistent tank top wearers in the industry. Bless her generous heart.

Elisha CuthbertWho knew she was the kind of girl who liked to get drunk and to eat ribs?

Rhona MitraShe needs to be in more movies where she kicks things’ asses.

Brandi CarlileShe’s in my neck of the woods this week and I was too late to get tickets. No, I’m not crying.

Jenna UshkowitzI’m so glad the “Glee” writers remembered Jenna was on the show last episode.

Naya RiveraSpeaking of things on “Glee” I’m glad for.

I Nuzzled a Girl

Oh, son, you done gone stepped in it now. Last night newbie “Glee” writer Matthew Hodgson – who let’s face it was already on many gay ladies’ shit list for writing the “I Kissed a Girl” episode where no girls actually kissed – went and tweeted a fan that Brittany and Santana had already kissed. Yes, really. No, I am not kidding. Yes, I wish I was. But no, here is the tweet.

(Yes, I know all about that glowing article about him from yesterday on that other site with the initials AE. No, I have no comment. Yes, the timing is hilarious. But no, I still my comment is no.)

Fellow “Glee” writer Michael Hitchcock also replied to the same tweeter, with an extra special twist of contempt.

Here’s a small hint, dude, don’t tell a die-hard fan she doesn’t watch the show she probably spends more waking hours obsessing about than you do. Have you met this thing called “fandom?” If not, crash course – Fandom remembers everything. EVERYTHING.

Now, first things first, they are clearly both epically, epically wrong about Brittany and Santana sharing any sweet lady kisses (a fact which series creators Brad Falchuk and Ryan Murphy have themselves confirmed). That was The Great Neck Nuzzle of 2010 they’re referring to. Trust me, fellas, us gals have watched that scene over and over and over and over again and as much as we want there to be lip locking, there simply isn’t. An almost kiss is not a kiss.

Both Matthew and Michael have since deleted their respective tweets. Michael tweeted and then deleted an apology to the same fan. And Matthew tweeted and so far has left up a clarification of sorts to a different fan.

Hey, guys, there seems to be some serious confusions amongst the “Glee” ranks about what constitutes kissing. So, please, let me help you with some easy to understand visual cues.

THIS IS KISSING

THIS IS NOT KISSINGANY QUESTIONS?

Still what this whole weird mess really does – besides make me sad that maybe neither one of these fellows is all that familiar with what kissing really is in the first place – is makes me worried about what the hell is happening in the writers’ room. I mean, seriously, what is happening? I know continuity was one of the things everyone said they’d work on this season, and they have (they mentioned Tina’s former stutter and Santana’s Rocky Horror lips and Puck’s pool cleaning business). But to not know the basic romantic on-screen history of two major characters is a pretty Joe Biden-worthy Big Fucking Deal. Or, at least it should be a Big Fucking Deal.

Though perhaps, well, perhaps that’s the problem in the first place. Perhaps these characters – these beautiful, strong, queer female characters – aren’t really that big a deal to these writers. Perhaps they’re just a nice, pretty garnish to the show’s more important main dish. Perhaps getting things right like whether to girls who are in love have actually kissed on screen just doesn’t matter in their world. Perhaps they think we’ve gotten all the storyline from them we deserve already.

Well, if that’s the case, then I heartily welcome the writers to kiss my ass. Though, at this point, I have to wonder if they even know how.

UPDATE: Well, I give up. The show's only lesbian writer (and really only full-time female writer), Ali Adler, also thinks Brittana has already kissed. At this point, I'm not sure whether to laugh or cry. Maybe I'll just nuzzle someone I deeply love until I feel better.

Oh, we got Troubletones

You guys, you guys. I am in love with a fictional high school glee club. No, not those darn New Directions. I mean, I used to love them but we were all so young and things were so different then. No, I’m in love with the new girls on the block. I’m in love with the Troubletones.

In a few spectacular numbers, this all-girls phenomena has not just won my heart but wrapped it around my finger and made me beg for more. In all seriousness, I would camp out overnight like a crazed Twilight fan to buy tickets to one of their shows. I have my sleeping bag ready. I am only partially kidding.

When I first saw their” Candyman” performance, I clapped and grinned. So much fun, so much energy. And then came the epic Adele “Rumour Has It/Someone Like You” mash-up. I couldn’t stop watching it and I’ll never stop loving it. So here comes the big Sectionals performance of “Survivor/I Will Survive” tonight. And I think the only way to describe it is to say “Oh, the house that was here? Yeah, it’s gone. The Troubletones brought it down.”

Oh, kittens. Second 53, Second 53.

[region-free link]

But what is more extraordinary, what is more sensational, what makes them not just another group that sings and dances is that this is a group fronted by an amazing African-American young woman and sensational out lesbian Latina young woman and her fierce out bisexual girlfriend. And they’re proud and loud and OH MY GOD, YOU SAW THE BRITTANGO PART, RIGHT?

Also, important sidenote, the choreography they perform during “Survivor/I Will Survive” is known as “waacking,” a style that originated in gay black and Latino disco clubs in the 70s. I ignorantly called it “flail-y when I first saw it, which I apologize profusely for as I know basically nothing about dance history. Kids today are still doing the Charleston, right? I am, clearly, the last person on this Earth who should be commenting on complex choreography. If you really want to see flailing, just watch me dance.

So, in that context, having the Troubletones waacking to a mash-up of a popular gay anthem (and a kick-ass Destiny Child number) is really pretty awesome nod to both minority and gay culture for “Glee.” It’s an organic and empowering way to showcase ethnic communities many probably aren’t familiar with.

Which is why it pains me all the more that the Troubletones will probably lose. Now, stop throwing Slushees at me. I have NO IDEA whether the Troubletones will actually lose. I have no spoilers. I have seen no screeners. I know no insider information whatsoever. But, I do have a brain and eyes and a sense of history. This show is about Mr. Shue’s New Directions, not Shelby Corcoran’s Troubletones. This show is about Finn Hudson and Rachel Berry, not Mercedes Jones and Santana Lopez. So, there is really no way the Troubletones can beat New Directions that works into the narrative Ryan, Ian and Brad have created. Much to my continued chagrin, they are not the heroes of this story. We all know that.

So, again, we pretty much know the Troubletones won’t win. Or they will win, yet somehow still lose. Or there will be some sort of tie, yet somehow still lose. Bottom line, our sassy sisters of song will eventually be folded back into the New Directions. Could I be wrong? I guess anything is possible. But, I fear, tonight will be the last we see of these girl-power, minority-empowering Troubletones.

So, then, I will let them have their mighty swan songs. A look back in wonder.

Rumour Has It/Someone Like You

[region-free link]

Candyman

The petition for a Troubletones spin-off starts here.

Out, out damn Gleek

I defend “Glee” a lot. Like, a lot a lot. Like there were stretches where I felt like all I did was defend my love of “Glee.” So, in that respect, I feel I’ve built up a close-to lifetime supply of goodwill for this silly little show about a show choir in Ohio with a magical costume and backup dancer budget that makes trickle-down economics seem positively Keynesian.

So now, now I feel like burning through a little of that goodwill. If fact, I feel like setting the whole house on fire and watching the flames lap loudly against my still raging soul. Why? Well, because last night’s episode of “Glee” really fucking sucked.

It didn’t just suck because of the normal inconsequentialities and flagrant inconsistencies that can make “Glee” so frustrating for people who insist on living in a fact-based reality. I’m saying it sucked because for a show that prides itself on sending a message of tolerance and diversity, it sent a message of consequence-free outing and white-male salvation. It was severely misguided to give it the benefit of the doubt, and a few of those dreaded –ist and –istic words if you don’t.

Also, don’t get me started on the fact that the episode was called “I Kissed a Girl” and no girls actually kissed. (That cheek kiss was cute and all, but come the fuck on.)

What “Glee” can sometimes do well is peel back the skin of a significant social issue and expose the beating humanity underneath in a way that helps everyone understand it better and therefore fear it a little less. It’s how things change in the world, by realizing we’re really all not that different.

What “Glee” can sometimes do badly is take a significant social issue and simplify it down to a glib streak of superficial cheerleading and then preen itself wondering why it’s not being slapped on the back and handed cigars for the beautiful bundle of enlightenment it has just birthed unto the world. That’s how people self-congratulate themselves without changing a damn thing.

I mean, the whole show started out on the wrong foot with Santana being punished for slapping Finn. Granted, physical violence – even the deserved kind – is unacceptable and should be dealt with. But Finn outed Santana. And that may not be physical violence, but it is psychological violence. And, no, do not trot out the “Finn didn’t mean to out her and couldn’t know it’d turn into a political ad” malarkey. He yelled it at her across a crowded high school hallway. He’s dense, but he can’t be that dense.

But instead of handling the fallout from this outing. Instead of delving into its ramifications. Instead of showing while, even if unintentional, it was wrong. Instead of all that, Finn is turned into some kind of gay awareness superstar and the episode becomes A Very Special Intervention Outing Glee. Never mind that last season, when Kurt was being seriously bullied by Karofsky and then discovered he was actually also gay, he took great and extraordinary pains not to out him. Never mind that Kurt did this because Karofsky wasn’t ready and it would be wrong to force someone who isn’t ready out of the closet. Never mind that as recently as last episode, Mr. Shue, Coach Sylvester and Kurt’s dad all seemed super concerned about how terrible it was that Santana was being outed.

Nope, instead there are absolutely, positively, unquestionably zero consequences for Finn outing Santana. Not a talking to from Kurt, his gay step brother. Not a lecture from Burt, his super gay friendly step-dad. Not a dirty look from Rachel, his has-two-gay-dads girlfriend. Nope, just a gold star for essentially blackmailing Santana to come out or risk suspension from school. Isn’t he a stand-up guy? Hey, kids at home, out your friends and be a hero. Everyone’s doing it! Yay! Outings! YAYYYYY!

Look, life is better when you are out. This is almost universally true. But there are very real consequences for coming out for some – including but not limited to isolation, violence and worse. And there are equally real consequences for being outed – consequences which weren’t even glossed over. They were entirely ignored.

Also, what the hell was that throw-away line from Santana about: “I told my parents last night and they were actually OK with it.” How many exceptional scenes of the Kurt & Burt show did we have when he was dealing with his sexuality? Granted, it doesn’t and shouldn’t be the same response. But it shouldn’t be an afterthought. We didn’t even get to see Santana’s parents, let alone a whole paragraph of dialogue about their reaction?

The one well-played and meaningful scene in Santana’s entire outing saga was her quiet, powerful talk with her abuela at the kitchen table. That’s what “Glee” can do well, when it wants to. That’s the raw human condition that brings us all closer. That’s real fucking life.

Also, my heavens, how spectacular has Naya Rivera been through this whole mess? So spectacular. I will go down with the Brittana ship. I will be the violinist clinging to the deck as the water pours savagely into the hull. That’s how much I enjoy these characters and these actresses.

But, lord, do they deserve better than last night. In fact, this is the worst-case scenario I dreaded when I first heard spoilers about Santana’s outing. That it would happen in a “it’s for her own good” kind of way without any repercussions therefore sending the message that outing people because “dude, the whole school already knows” is perfectly OK and probably a good thing and possibly something they’ll give you a medal for.

The thing is, you can help your friends come out. You can support them. You can listen to them. You can encourage them. You can be there to dry their tears and squeeze their hand and find their strength. But that’s not outing. That’s not taunting someone with the possibility of the person she loves not loving her back. That’s not calling her a coward. That’s not what happened That’s not the kind of private, careful, meaningful support “Glee” showed. Not even close.

p.s. This would have been a wonderful place for, say, Brittany – you know, Santana’s girlfriend – to come in and privately encourage her. Brittany, who has been so supportive of Santana throughout her whole journey. Brittany who loves Santana more than anyone else in this world. But, no, that wouldn’t fit into the show’s pre-destined hero mold.

Speaking of that and this whole “it’s for her own good” shit, what was with all the menfolk being the saviors for the womenfolk this episode? Oh, I get it. This is the “Glee” where the boys all saved the girls from themselves. Gee thanks, mister. What would those frail ladies with our crazy lady brains have done without the guidance of a Finn or a Puck last night? Poor closeted Santana and poor nutso Quinn might have gone on forever without being rescued. And if men weren’t saving women, women were sacrificing themselves for me. Like Rachel turning herself in for Kurt. And when women weren’t being saved by men, or sacrificing for men, they were fighting over the big lugs (i.e. world’s least likely two points on the bottom of a man-topped love triangle, Sue and Beiste).

Oh, and of course there was the obligatory superficial female empowerment this episode. You know, when all the Glee gals rallied around Santana for a little girl-on-girl power in the form of that ridiculous, ridiculous ode to drunken making out. Still, as much as I hate hate hate that song, I couldn’t hate hate hate the performance because that, again, is the power of “Glee.” It takes preposterous things like a 30-year-old arena power ballad about believing and makes it give you automatic goosebumps. So, yes, I tried my best to set aside my hatred for Katy Perry’s co-opting of lesbian culture to enjoy the unapologetic eye candy of every Glee girl ship, crackship and ship you never knew you shipped cavorting together for our pleasure.

Still, we haven’t even begun to touch on Quinn and her storyline of pure crazy and the Puck-Shelby teacher-student carnival of inappropriateness. If we did, we’d be here all week.

Yes, I enjoyed the cheek kiss and thumbs up. And yes of course I enjoyed the big Brittana hug (though hello – NOW KISS). And, hell, I’ll even rewatch that ballot smooch. But, no, I do not have to accept that an episode titled” I Kissed a Girl” featured exactly zero girls actually kissing each other. And, no, I do not have to accept that an episode about coming to terms with one’s sexuality was really about the benefits of outing. And, oh hell no, I do not have to accept that in an episode that should have been all about women, men were its central heroes.

Also, I will never forgive Finn Hudson for ruining Cyndi Lauper for me. Or, as Santana put it so eloquently: “Thank you, guys. Thank you Finn, especially. You know, with all the horrible crap I’ve been through in my life, now I get to add that.”

Oh, Santana, honey. We’re right there with you.

Out of this world

Being gay means lots of things. It means you fall in love a little differently than most of the world. It means you are hated irrationally by some of the world. It means still don’t have all the same rights as the rest of the world. And it means you’re going to have to tell the world you’re gay and therefore all of those different, hated, unequal things in the first place. It’s a lot to ask of a person to admit to. Yet so many of us do because to not would mean to not be who we really are.

Still, coming out is always your choice. Because it’s your life. And no one can tell how to live your life. And no one can tell you who you are. Only you can do that for yourself. At your own time. When you are ready.

Last night’s “Glee” was many things. It was way too focused on the vomit-inducing student-teacher cliché that is Puck and Shelby. It was way too invested in this ridiculous Crazy Quinn storyline and its equally ridiculous commentary on adoption. It was too confused about election law and what constitutes legal, non-slanderous political advertising. And it was probably way too close to home for many young or questioning people who aren’t out of the closet.

Let’s get this out of the way immediately: No one has the right to out you. When you come out is up to you, period.

So then just because Santana can be a raging bitch sometimes, doesn’t mean she deserves to be outed. Just because she’s mean to Finn, doesn’t mean she deserves to be outed. Just because she hasn’t made the decision to be out for herself yet, doesn’t mean she deserves to be outed. Santana did not deserve to be outed.

The last four minutes of “Glee” last night were particularly powerful. And, no, not just because that Adele mash-up is still SOFA KING AMAZING even after 3,876 repeat viewings. But because it showed, through Naya Rivera’s extraordinarily nuanced performance, what it means to be outed. You can see Santana’s whole world crumble in an instant. “I can’t believe this is happening.” “I haven’t even told my parents yet.” It’s all there, on the surface. The panic. The fear. The despair.

And here’s the other thing about being gay. Straight people, even the super allies and the most supportive, they can’t know what it is to come out. They’ll never have to do it. They don’t know what it means. What a big step it is. What a difficult confession it can be to even just to ourselves. That’s not really their fault, but it’s also not their place to judge. So when Finn tells Santana in a crowded school hallway that she should come out of the closet, that’s not just getting revenge – that’s imploding a life. And when he calls her a “coward” for not being out, well, that is almost as bad as outing her. Also the stuff about Brittany maybe not loving her back, that was just fucking mean.

Being in the closet can be a terrible burden. Carrying a secret can crush you slowly. But being ripped out of the closet before you’re ready is even worse. There could be very real consequences from being outed. Being kicked out to losing your job to being bullied to being beaten to even worse. So, then being ready to face that, being prepared – well, that’s everything.

But then, here’s the thing about being out. It’s better when you’re out. Maybe not right away. Maybe not for a long time. But it’s better to be open. It’s better to accept and embrace and love who you are for all the world to see. And once the world sees you, it’ll see you’re not so scary – we’re not so scary. Coming out matters because knowing a gay person makes it hard to hate us unconditionally. It’s easier to hate blindly what you think you don’t know or think you haven’t met. Because, make no mistake, we are everywhere.

That’s why there is one important exception to the outing rule. Those who hide their truth while actively using their power and position against us, they shall be afforded no quarter. Those conservative politicians who vote against our right to equality under the law, but shtup strangers in airplane restrooms. Those powerful players who call us an abomination, yet hire rentboys to tend to them on the weekends. That’s not coming to terms with oneself, that’s just pure hypocrisy. And that will not stand.

So, yes, it is better when you’re out. But that doesn’t mean it’s better before you’re ready, before you’re safe, before you decide. For some of us it’s a lifelong journey. And that’s OK, too. The goal is always to be honest and happy with yourself. So we get up each day, look ourselves in the mirror, and hope we like the person staring back at us – however long it takes. And when you do, we’ll be here. Because while you may feel alone, you’re not alone. That’s the other thing about being gay, you get a whole new family. And we love you, unconditionally.

Someone like Brittana

So, I woke up early intent on finishing another post this morning. And then I opened the Tweeter Machine and my feed was all my adorable Brittaniacs going, “Have you seen it? HAVE YOU SEEN IT?!” And now, after seeing it, I can safely say there is nothing else in the world I want to write about. Period. Full Stop. Just Brittana. And after watching The Troubletones do this amazing Adele mash-up of “Rumour Has It” and “Someone Like You,” I’m pretty sure it’ll be all you can think about, too.

[Note: Hit 1080p & Full Screen and just let the awesome wash over you.]

[Note 2:Here is a link to a region-free version for my international friends]

Don’t lie. You watched that like three times in a row, didn’t you? I know I did. Now, setting aside the video’s obvious emotional backstory (relax, relax – you know I’m going to get to it), the whole number is just gangbusters. Sorry, New Directions, but there’s a new sheriff in town and she is packing Adele in her holster. There is no musical ammo better. Look, I’m not sure if that metaphor worked, but just go with it.

I know this Tuesday’s “The First Time” was perhaps a letdown for those of us aboard the S.S. Brittana. They had zero moments (or even eye contact). But if this video from next week’s “Glee” is any indication, our adoration will be redeemed, and then some. I’ve been trying to avoid detailed spoilers, because I know some big Santana and Brittany developments are coming. Granted, I like knowing big-picture spoilers. In general plot developments, etc. But I’m loathe to know turn-of-the-screw episode minutia. Still, it seems unavoidable at this point to realize that some major Brittana emotions are brewing. The way Santana looks at Brittany when she sings, “I heard that you settled down, that you found a girl and you’re married now.” And then turns. And then looks at directly Brittany. Let’s just say Big Lesbian Feelings are happening in her heart, and my heart and everyone’s heart if it’s beating.

And, once again, I cannot be more impressed with Naya Rivera and her nuanced, powerful performance. It’s one thing to be able to deliver biting one liners. It’s another to be able to sing spectacularly. But this girl can also pack an emotional wallop. The Santana story arc in particular through the three seasons of this show is nothing short of spectacular. I don’t know what the future holds for Santana, but I certainly hope with all of my shipper heart that her love gets to last, and not hurt instead.

Let's get it on

I’ve been thinking a lot about sex. No, not like that. OK, a little like that. But mostly I’ve been thinking about sex as it relates to my favorite TV lady couples. And right now, sadly, we really only have three sexually active lady loving lady couples on North American primetime television: Callie & Arizona, Bo & Lauren and Brittany & Santana.

Now, there are a few more you could technically count. Thirteen and her zero-lines-of-dialogue girlfriend who disappeared off to Mykonos on “House.” Special Agent Diana Berrigan and her girlfriend Christie who has appeared once in three seasons of “White Collar.” And then there’s Emily Fields, though I’m not entirely sure where her revolving door of girlfriends is right now on “Pretty Little Liars.” Also, I’m pretty sure she hasn’t slept with any of them which makes me sad for her girlfriends because, well, you’ve seen Emily – right?

So, back to our big three. Calzona is the most stable and established, clearly. They’re married. They have a child. They’ve also addressed the whole lesbian and/or married-with-kids bed death problem already. And while their screentime has been all-too-short this season, what we’ve seen seems to be pretty normal, healthy and relatively lusty. We’re going to just call them the happily marrieds and move along to the more confusing couplings.

Now, it’s probably (actually no probably about it, but go with me) unfair to compare the representations of sexuality on “Lost Girl” with that on “Glee.” One is a dark, adult show based on overtly sexual themes. The other is a mainstream, teen show based on high school kids singing and dancing at random. They’re very different, but they both feature same-sex female couples who have seen their relationship develop on a very slow boil through the seasons. And in that respect, they’re very interesting examples of contrast.

On “Lost Girl,” the lust and the desire has been out there for a while, with little actual sex both on-screen or off-screen to show for it. But the two times they did sleep together, they were both explicit and exemplary in their depiction of a relationship in its various stages (i.e. First time – tender, exploratory. Second time – hungry, urgent.)

But, they’ve also done an admirable job of showing both sweetness and tenderness amid the push-you-on-the-bed, pull-you-back-to-me-by-your-thighs hotness. (Ugh – still so fucking hot.) The animal instinct is balanced by the small kiss on the cheek the morning after. The protectiveness. The genuine care. Nicely done, “Lost Girl.” Nicely done.

Sure, we don’t know how this whole frozen Nadia-sicle thing is going to play out and whether it’ll all end in heartbreak and more succuface rebounds with pizza delivery drivers. But for now, for now it’s pretty perfect. And the sex is downright rocking.

Over on “Glee,” the sexuality between Brittany and Santana has been handled very differently. Granted, teen show v. adult show. Coming out story v. will-they-or-won’t-they story. But while all the sex in Bo and Lauren’s relationship has been out in the open, all the sex in Brittany and Santana’s relationship has been off-screen. And, make no mistake, they have sex. They have sex-is-not-dating sex. They have scissoring-doesn’t-mean-I-want-to-have-lady-babies-with-you sex. They have does-taking-a-bath-together-means-we’re-dating sex. They’re getting it on like bunnies in cheerleading costumes – we’ve just never seen it. Any of it. Not even one little sweet lady kiss. And that, that’s pretty bogus.

While I do like that they’re taking their relationship slowly and delving into its ramifications, I don’t like that somehow this one couple in the entire Glee universe hasn’t had a chance to even share a small smooch on screen. Rachel has kissed Finn, Puck and Jesse. Quinn has kissed Finn, Puck and Sam. Heck even Kurt got to kiss Blaine – and Karofsky. And Santana and Brittany have both kissed their male dates in straight (or misguided gay, in the Britt-Kurt case) pairings. But Brittana together – nada. Not even a kiss on the cheek. Brittany has kissed that damn little Elvis-haired leprechaun more than Santana on screen.

And, having seen a screener for this week’s new episode, I can tell you the odds don’t get any better. We have not one, not two, not three, but seven – yes, SEVEN – kisses between Finn and Rachel. Kurt and Blaine, by comparison, get two. For the gayest show on television, that’s still pretty damn straight.

Now, certainly, a major mitigating factor here is that Santana and Brittany’s relationship is not out. Santana is not out at all. So, the lack of PDA is understandable. But, the lack of showing affection in private is not. And therein lies the rub. “Glee” isn’t just set in the classrooms and hallways of McKinley High. We’ve been in the living rooms, the bedrooms, the cars and even the motel rooms of our favorite Glee Club members. And we’ve even been in both Santana and Brittany’s bedrooms. Yet somehow, they never took the opportunity to show a little affection – let alone a kiss.

Now, this would make sense if they were still dancing around the issue of being into each other. But these two gals have been making with the sexytime since they were sophomores at least. And now, as seniors, it’s kind of about time we got to see it. And I’m not just saying this to be the pervy perv who perks up at the thought of girl-on-girl action. (Though, come on, we all know I’m the pervy perv who perks up at the thought of girl-on-girl action.) I’m saying this because seeing it helps make it real.

This whole idea of Brittana is still very theoretical. We’ve been told they have sex, we’ve been told they’re taking baths together. We’ve been told they do all the tender, sexy, hot things real couples do. But aside from that one nuzzle scene in Britt’s bedroom and the occasional shoulder lean or pinky link, these two could very well be besties with a touchy-feely side. OK, there was also that tequila body shot. God bless you, tequila body shot.

Yet still we’re stuck in this infernal cycle of tell, don’t show. We want some show. We want it now.

To be fair, part of this is just “Glee” being “Glee.” I don’t think they’ve been particularly good at conveying love, lust or longing. Will and Emma? Good lord, these are adults who don’t have sex. Finn and Rachel? They certainly have the awkward part of teenage love down pat. And do not get me started on this severely misguided, totally overdone and ridiculously dumb student-teacher thing between Puck and Shelby. Do not. And even they’ve kissed.

When you have a couple with real chemistry like Brittany and Santana and actresses up to the task like Heather Morris and Naya Rivera, you shouldn’t squander the opportunity. Brittana means a lot to a lot of people watching out there at home. People who might be questioning their own sexuality. People who might need reassurance of their sexuality. People who just want to know that love can be possible regardless of sexuality. Sure the sweetness of Brittana has been wonderful. The little looks. The little touches. Holding hands under the napkin. My heart, heavens, my heart. But that doesn’t mean we can’t ask for – even demand – more.

This silly little show about a show choir means something much more than jazz hands and diva battles to so many people. They say a kiss is just a kiss. But when it comes to Brittana, a sweet lady kiss is just everything.

NOTE: Tierra de lobos is a Spanish, not Mexican show. Hence it is European, not North American. Otherwise, trust me, I would have included that caliente.

Hello, 60 percent

So last week, this splashy headline came out that said “More than half of women are attracted to other women!” Hallelujah! Praise lesbian Jesus! All our dry spells are over. We have a better than 50-50 change of scoring with that cute brunette at the bar. Go get ‘em, tigers.

I mean, who wouldn’t be attracted to other women?

Women look like this.

And like this.

Also this.

Or this.

Other times that.

And even a little of this and that.

Of course, the reality is this news probably will not improve our ability to pick up hot straight chicks. The original report came from the UK’s Daily Mail, a publication notorious for loving sensational headlines and fuzzy math. That article about a Boise State study by a professor Elizabeth Morgan that was published in the Journal of Sex Research said that “60 percent (of heterosexual women) were sexually attracted to other women; 45 percent had kissed a woman and 50 per cent had fantasies about the same sex.” But, again, it’s the Daily Mail. So, you know, please feel free to chug your salt shaker.

Doing a little research of my own, I did indeed find a real study published in the Journal of Sex Research by a Elizabeth M. Morgan, a Boise State psychology professor, that looks at sexual orientation questioning among heterosexual women ages 18 to 23. The number of women in the study was different than the Daily Mail’s numbers (study: 333, Daily Mail: 484) and findings seem a little different. The real study found that “67 percent of exclusively heterosexual respondents indicated having thought about and/or questioned their sexual orientation.” Of those who have questioned their orientation, the questioning behavior broke down as “unelaborated questioning (19 percent), other-sex experiences (16 percent), exposure to sexual minorities (26 percent), assessment of same-sex attraction (48 percent) and evaluations of same-sex behavior (26 percent).”

Now I can’t be 100 percent sure these are the same studies, because of the differences in sample sizes and report percentages. (Prof. Morgan’s full article is only available for purchase and while I want to prove a point, and I don’t really care so much that I feel like shelling out $34.) And, even if it is the same study, the fairly small participant pool means I wouldn’t go making a bunch of universal proclamations based on it alone.

But, still, it adds research to that long-assumed truth that women are more sexually fluid than men. Or, at the very least, women are more willing and comfortable with being honest about their sexual fluidity. Or maybe we should just chalk it up to college. Besides learning how to shotgun a beer and sleep with your eyes open, students pretty much major in sexual experimentation during those years of academic excellence. This is also where that beer shotgunning thing can come in handy.

In the end, we don’t really need a study (or a fake study) to tell us that while we may not be able to hook up with all these some 60 percent of straight gal, we know they’re at least taking a look at us ladies. How could they not? I mean, look at us.

UPDATE: Wow, ask the universe and it delivers. I now am in possession of seven (SEVEN) copies of Prof. Morgan’s report. So looks like I’ll have some light reading to do this week. Thank you, thank you, kittens. You are, continually, the best.

Tank Top Tuesday

Oh, basic white tank top. How simple you are. Yet how undeniably effective. Sure, other colors are also nice. Your blacks. Your blues. Heck, even your reds. But the white tank top, well, it’s just a classic. What it does is really focus our attention on what’s in the tank top, as opposed to the tank itself. The way it hugs the form is almost workmanlike, yet exposes a natural womanliness. It’s the perfect conduit for unadulterated sexiness. Sheer yet still a statement. Right, so are you buying any of this? Have I prattled on for a sufficient amount of time to justify just showing you the hot ladies in white tank tops now? Or have you not heard a single word I’ve said because for the last five minutes you’ve been staring at Naya Rivera with your mouth open and a thin line of drool forming on your chin? I know, two days in a row with the drool on your screens. So perhaps before proceeding today, might I suggest a bib?

Lena HeadeyI’m pretty sure Lena is laughing at my attempt to wax eloquent about the white tank top. I am totally OK with that as long as she keeps wearing one.

Yvonne StrahovskiWhat? I’m sorry. Have you been standing there long? My brain stopped working temporarily for some unknown reason and I had to do a full system reboot. Oh my God, is that Yvonne in a... Dammit, not again. Control-Alt-Delete.

Cote de PabloJust think, if things had gone differently on “NCIS” maybe Cote would be the one having eye sex and TGTGT with Angie Harmon on “Rizzoli & Isles” instead of Sasha Alexander. Man, just thinking about what those subtext recaps would be like is tripping me out.

Minka KellyDoes it make me a very bad lady if I tell you I’ve decided to skip the new “Charlie’s Angels,” or a very good one?

Jordana BrewsterI probably won’t watch Jordana’s new remake, “Dallas,” either. But I will search the network press site for pictures of her in a tank top. So, you know, win-win.

Zoe KravitzOf course the daughter of Lisa Bonet and Lenny Kravitz is gorgeous. Of course.

WARNING: The last picture is NSFW. Thank the technology gods for smartphones, eh?

Karina LombardThis is like Tank Top Tuesday and Naked Lady Monday had a love child, make that twins.