I know, you can easily tell Fake Dykes from Real Dykes by looking at them; the latter are usually fat blobs in overalls, the former septum-pierced coeds in short skirts. But there’s another giveaway: romantic canoodling.
Fake Furburglars giggle a lot while their hands reach between thighs and under shirts for the grabbing of the fleshly delights. They kiss a lot on the ears and neck (the lips seem to be a no-go zone) and get off doing it in public for the benefit of onlookers. They know it’s an experimental phase and they’re gonna live it up.
Real Rugmunchers don’t do any of that. They don’t make a public spectacle of themselves, their hands stay holstered (or wrapped in tender handholding), and they spend a lot of time sharing their concerns about the quality and direction of their relationship. You could mistake them for really close asexual friends if you were eavesdropping.
In short, real lesbians are mannish in almost every way except romantically, in which domain they are more like hetero women — yappity yap with not much snatchity snatch.
Likewise, gay homosexual men are womanish in almost every way except romantically, in which domain they are more like hetero men — jackity jack with not much yappity yap.