Point/Dreams

As if the fates wanted to prove my point for me, today is m:girl's birthday. Twenty ninth.

Last night I had this terrific and somewhat explicit dream, but there was one aspect of it that was slightly bewildering. I was writing in a journal on a blanket amongst the grass, and I was with an older woman. She complained of feeling tired, and laid down by my side, curling into me under another blanket. I made the first move, and she willingly kissed me back, melting into me and under me with a beauty I had never experienced before. Without being too detailed and explicit, we made love. (And, oh my gosh she had a piercing that drove me wild.)

After it was over, I looked up and she was one of my acting professors from college. Granted, this particular professor is a gorgeous older woman whom I love and admire very much, but I love and admire her with an unprecedented respect that makes a sexual desire for her out of the question. She hadn't turned into another person, I just hadn't recognized her face before we made love. That is the start of our relationship, glowing with satisfaction on an old picnic blanket in the middle of a field of green grass.

The scene moves, and we are inside a room somewhere (it looks like a spaceship), making a movie about her life, her sexuality, and the scene is set for us to make love. It is the same conversation we had before making love on our picnic, however, the blanket is gone and it is clear that we are on this spacecraft. Though they are the exact same words we said to each other during our lovemaking on the picnic blanket, they are now harsh, false, and ugly. In the end, I can't stand to look at her, and as I walk away, I wake up.

Now that I am awake, I feel ashamed for having a dream like this about someone that I feel should be put above sexual fantasies. I feel dirty for having dreamed about her that way. However, I also wonder about the shift in scene. I wonder about how all of the sounds she made in the grass could sound like the sweetest of music, but under cameras and lights could sound so false and wrong.

It makes me wish I had a therapist or dream analyst who could tell me what my subconscious is trying to say.

Terms/Respect

There are certain terms that I love, that make me feel special, sexy, sweet, adored, etc. I have such an attachment to these words that when they are used, they feel like endearments, even when they are not addressed to me.

M:girl has a habit of calling me Miss. Not Miss Tabby or whatever, just Miss. I used to love it when I would wake up in the morning and the first thing I would hear is "Good morning, Miss." Therefore I've taken up that term and started passing it on.

I love being called Miss, Lady, Girl (as in "Hey, Girl, how are you?"), etc. I love the phrases "my Lady Friend" and "My Lady" (as in "my lady is coming over tonight"). I like the feeling of possession. Tegan Quin writes a lot about "you're not mine" and "you were all mine, I was yours right?" which really strikes a chord with me. She also tends to write from a more traditional pants side of the relationship when possession is involved, which I strongly identify with.

First:girl used to greet me with a teasing version of Tila Tequila's "Hey, Girl, hey!" which always made my day in such a strange way. I also have this odd love for when derogatory terms are thrown into ordinary conversation (such as a "Whatever, bitch, you know you love me," kind of retort). Of course, that was part of my relationship with first:girl and I would never use it in my relationship with m:girl because that's not how we work. She calls me miss, and I call her miss and my lady so bitch doesn't really fit in there.

I don't like the whole "baby, shorty, mami, honey bear," side of things. The poo-bear and pumpkin saccharine-sweet terms tend to get on my nerves very fast.

I think part of the reason that I love the terms I do, is that no matter how masculine I end up looking or acting, the constant reminders of my femininity are gratifying. I like that I can walk around dressed like a boy and M:girl will still call me miss. Like I can be female without having to act like it because it's an integral part of who I am. Like I don't have to put on a show of being femme to be female. I can be feminine by just being me. The terms I love are more old fashioned, and many years ago were terms of respect. I think hidden within them is the trace of respect and honor that they used to be endowed with. When I am called Lady, it's like the person who is using the term has a respect for me, has a love for me, and is giving me power in the knowledge that I have that old fashioned respect.

I also enjoy such words as bird, doll, doll face, darling, foxy lady, chica, etc.

Missus was just mentioned to me, which calls to me with the same feeling of love and respect that I was speaking of. I have a feeling this will become a new favorite of mine as well.

What are your favorite terms and why?

Perfume/Dreams

I sprayed her perfume on my pillow. My mother used to spray lavender on my pillow before bed to help me sleep during the years that I had horrible night terrors. Of course it never worked, and now I have an aversion toward the scent.

Last night I had a nightmare, and the only scent that has nothing but good memories attached to it is the smell of her perfume. Maybe that makes me creepy, but I just want to have good dreams tonight.

The only problem is that now my bed smells like her. Her scent is intoxicating, inebriating. It clouds my judgment until I can think of nothing but her and the time I spent with her in her apartment. She'd never been in my bed. There was no reason for it to smell like her. But now it does, and I am stuck drinking her in. It's like sweet torture.

Maybe it's not as creepy because she is not my ex, she is attracted to girls, and she does know I am interested in her and is possibly interested in me. Or maybe I am only justifying this for myself.

If you would have dreamed the nightmare I had last night, you would understand my desperation for a change in environment.

Fear/Confidence

Can fear actually make you a more confident person? Can you be so afraid that you put on a brave face, and through that facade become a more courageous person?

I'm not suave and charming, and I have no idea how to woo the woman I want to be with. And honestly, she is going through a rough breakup right now and probably doesn't want to be wooed. Whilst I'm discovering women for the first time, she is discovering men. However, this doesn't mean that I am not cute and coy and a little sly.

Is it because I am afraid to tell her outright that I am interested and have her reject me? Or is it because I know she likes women who are more femme than her and I want to make her feel good by playing to her strengths?

Is one reason any better than the other?

I am afraid to go to sleep. I don't have nightmares. I have the exact opposite. Beautiful dreams of love, sex, relationships. Such real dreams that I can feel her skin, the heat of her breath, can hear the pound of her heart. Different, exquisite women every night. And then I wake up, and I am alone.

I'm alone in the supermarket when lesbians don't recognize that I'm gay. I'm alone at the register when the man behind the counter is chatting me up and I can't help but notice that the woman standing by the ice cream has the most beautiful mouth.

I can take it every day as long as I don't have those dreams. Those dreams that remind me what it is like to lay my head in [first:girl]'s lap and have her run her fingers through my hair. They remind me that I no longer see the woman who used to simultaneously hold me and make fun of me as I cry over an episode of L Word.

Fear is a constant. Trying to hide your fear is a constant. It's all constant. Stagnant. There has to be a way to break the cycle and create something new.

I am a good person. I am cute, sweet, smart, caring, warm, comforting, and have just a touch of sensuality. I'm beautiful. I'm all soft curves and a sweet face with big brown eyes and soft hair. I should be good at this. I should be able to walk into a bar and have everyone jump at the chance to take me home.

But for whatever reason, I'm too scared to walk into that bar.