At this point in humankind’s development, being a lesbian can be confusing. It’s hard enough figuring out who we are. We also have to grapple with who others say we are. I’m not even talking about our obvious enemies, those who say we’re doomed to spend eternity being licked by flames and lectured by Rush Limbaugh. I’m thinking of the people and entities who are on our side or who pretend to be.

I encountered a faux friend of lesbians recently. A real friend of mine in Vermont told me she’d placed a personal ad on a lesbian website. She said the site was called, sensibly, lesbianpersonals.com. When I got there, the first thing I saw was a pop-up for the “world’s largest BDSM & alternative lifestyle personals.” Not a good start.

The home page announced lesbianpersonals.com was “the world’s largest personals site for lesbians.” The photos decorating the page felt like porn shots. “Indulge yourself and find women for hot sexual encounters,” drooled from the site. Under “looking for,” the options were entirely sexual, ranging from erotic chat to group sex.

Had my friend been holding back on me something fierce? Was she more naive than Nancy Reagan in a crack house? Didn’t she know this site was mainly for straight men who long to plant themselves between two women? In the case of her home state of Vermont, the biggest single category was straight couples seeking women. There were real lesbians at lesbianpersonals.com, offering up what I now call a “tit or clit shot,” but they were far outnumbered.

This magic kingdom of a site pretended to be for us. The people behind it were actually appropriating lesbians, using us to lure straight men and big bucks. Sex between women, for us a basic part of our lives, was just kink to them.

That such people get to reduce us in this way makes me as happy as a rapper at a polka festival. Their idea of our identity should sleep with the fishes.

By the way, it turned out my friend had sent me to the wrong site for which I’m still hatching a suitable penance. She sheepishly explained she’d actually signed up with lesbianpersonalsonline.com: one word and a few worlds apart from lesbianpersonals.com. She met someone, and within two weeks they decided to U-Haul. Is that a real lesbian site or what?

The question of what a real lesbian is swirls around Showtime’s “The L Word.” The lesbians and straights behind that show don’t get to decide who we are, but considering the power of television, and that this is the first series about dykes, the show does influence what society thinks of us.

It also influences what we think of us. Judging by the huge turnout here in Seattle at a screening party for the second season’s first episode, plenty of lesbians are as hooked as halibut on “The L Word.”

It has some very real lesbian elements. I loved the diagram in the first season illustrating how few are the degrees of separation between us: Candace dated Sally who dated Rachel who did Candace.

But as many have pointed out, parts of the show feel just a tad unrealistic. Highest on my list is the fact that during an episode, it’s easier to spot Jimmy Hoffa than a butch. Does this say to butches, your presence is not wanted in the new age? You who couldn’t or wouldn’t hide who you are may be a big reason we’ve come this far, now skedaddle?

It’s tricky, this business of our image. Who decides it, and how it’s used? Makes U-Hauling two households into one look like child’s play.