The Difference Between “I Like Her” and “I Want Her” (WLW Edition)

(aka: the fine line between ‘she’s my best friend’ and ‘I am inexplicably ready to die for this girl who borrowed my hoodie once’)

Let’s talk about the line that nobody prepared us for. Growing up queer in a world that insists we’re straight until proven otherwise does something to you. It rewires your radar. It makes every intense friendship feel normal, even when the emotional stakes are higher than half the relationships people have in their 20s.

Trust me, I lived that confusion in HD.

My Canon Event: The Friendship That Wasn’t “Just Friends”

I had that oddly intense friendship that felt like a lifeline in middle school. We were inseparable, dramatic, and definitely not-so-accidentally too close. The kind of friendship that made adults raise an eyebrow and made us both go, “No, we’re just best friends who… occasionally have moments.”

You know the type. If you don’t, I cannot describe that level of teen anguish! 😩

It ended in the most lesbian way imaginable: an over-the-top “friend breakup,” complete with a deeply unnecessary fight over shoes. Shoes. Sapphic duel over footwear. And that was my first intimate experience with another girl.

We never talked about it afterward. It wasn’t shameful or anything. It wasn’t unimportant.

It was because we’d already absorbed the message: “Girls don’t like girls. This was just practice for boys.”

If you know, you know.

Being WLW in a non-gay-friendly world trains you to minimize your own heart. It makes your first big feelings arrive disguised as “friendship” until you’re left wondering why your “bestie breakup” feels like a divorce and why your memories feel like a secret you’re still protecting.

So let’s break this down. Because you’re not imagining things. And no, you’re not dramatic. You’re gay.

“I Like Her” — The Friendship Version

You like her when:

• You want to hang out because she’s fun, safe, and easy to talk to.

• You enjoy her company without plotting entire emotional universes around her.

• You can go a few days without texting and not spiral.

• Her other friendships don’t feel like a threat.

• You don’t remember her birthday three months in advance.

This is the standard “this person is great, I hope we stay close” vibe.

“I Want Her” — The Lesbian Yearning Edition

You want her when:

• You make her a playlist that sounds like the soundtrack to your imaginary domestic life together.

• You’re hyper-aware of her laugh, her wrists, her handwriting, her everything.

• You get jealous of her other friends—but in the romantic way you keep calling “protective.”

• You think about what her family would think of you if you were dating.

• You write paragraphs in your notes app that could absolutely be vows.

• You would physically fight God to protect her, but you call it “friendship loyalty.”

• You imagine kissing her and it feels less like a fantasy and more like home.

And the biggest sign?

When the friendship ends, it feels like grief.

Not sadness—grief.

Because part of you didn’t lose a friend.

Part of you lost your first almost-love.

Why We Confuse the Two

Queer girls aren’t given the blueprint. Hetero teens get a thousand movies telling them when they’re crushing. Meanwhile, WLW are fed a steady diet of:

• “Girls are just close.”

• “Best friends tell each other everything.”

• “It’s normal to be inseparable.”

• “You’re not gay—you just admire her.”

We weren’t confused.

We were censored.

What This Means for You Today

If you’re sorting through old memories—or current friendships—with a suspicious amount of intensity, you’re not alone.

You’re not broken.

You’re not dramatic.

You’re not “reading into it.”

You’re just finally giving language to something that always deserved to be seen.

So… Do You Like Her or Do You Want Her?

Ask yourself the real, messy question:

Would you make her a mix CD?

A curated one?

With tracks ordered to create a narrative arc of lesbian yearning?

If the answer is yes, sweetie—you want her.

And welcome to the club.