Feeling Proud

LA Pride was a big hit with me. Of course, you know that I live in a little tiny village where my neighbor churns butter and we all sing in the streets as we bake bread and open our shops, so Pride seemed huge.

I spent the day with the boifriend and a bunch of friends. There's something about being surrounded by people who are happy and excited, by people who are a part of our culture, by people who smile when I hold hands with my boi, or we dance together, or kiss. There's something about making friends with the people standing nearby, walking down the street, passing too close, ordering at the bar - something about the easy way our bodies ebb and flow and belong to everyone and no one as the good vibes keep rolling in.

The parade went on for forever and a day and I made out like a bandit with stickers and a free flag and lots of other stuff. I was fairly tipsy and warmed from the sun by the time we decided it was going to continue forever and moved into the shade of a bar. I don't drink a lot, especially in the beginning when my boi's friends made me nervous and I wanted to make a really good impression.

I felt so comfortable, so alive, so happy and free, so in love, that I felt free to drink and keep drinking, though I had water between - felt free to enjoy myself and my relationship and our friends and this beautiful community full of beautiful, glittering people all around us. I felt connected to all of them.

Of course there was some drama, I mean, we're still lesbians, but none of it was between me and my boifriend. I feel so lucky for that. Lucky that I feel like we're on the same page. Lucky that I feel so loved, lucky that we're communicating, lucky that we fit in all these little jigsaw ways, lucky that we can see an outline of something on the horizon that doesn't seem crazy, that's not a complete compromise for one of us.

I feel proud to be gay, proud to be part of this family, proud to have found friends in my boifriend's group, but the most proud to be with the one I love.

Gay Talks/Tues Tunes

So, everyone is either listing out 2012 or making out what 2013 is going to be, but I don't want to do that. I can choose a new outlook and attitude at anytime, and a calendar year isn't going to motivate or stop me :P

Lately it's been music, music, music, in my conversations with various people and I love it. I'm getting nostalgic about the mass produced synthetic pop from the 90's that I so dearly miss. Last night I was slipped a TLC line "don't want no scrubs," and I finished the rest of the song in my head.



I remember that song was on a burned cd of mine with some Britney Spears music that never got popular. Actually, I listened to Britney Spears a lot, and as a result, my singing impression of her early years is pretty stellar and hilarious.



I remember my brother buying me a little red MP3 player which required Musicmatch Jukebox (remember that, you guys?) and I played t.A.T.u. constantly. Blame it on my fascination with all things Russian or whatever for having the album in both languages, but I wish someone had noticed that I was a glued to a music video with girls kissing and singing about wanting to be together.



In fact, I wish someone had put together a lot of the pieces and sat me down to talk when I was fourteen. I wish someone had asked me about the way my Snow White barbie made out with all the others and touched their breasts, the half-naked Christina Aguilera posters, the t.A.T.u music videos, the lesbian pornography, the makeshift sex drawer, the things my boyfriends would have to say to me to get me in the right frame of mind to do anything, the way I panted after this sarcastic, bitchy, emo, 50s housewife looking lesbian in high school and called her by a different name just so I knew it was something only I got to call her (and she let me, and she didn't put up with anything, which meant she liked me and that meant the world).

When I look back, it's so obvious, so why didn't I realize it, and why didn't anyone else? I guess it's too late and in the past. I know who I am now, so I shouldn't let it bother me.

Note: All those bad 90s fashions and wet schoolgirl uniforms are still so in. Good choice, ladies. I approve.

Hot Mess/Comfortable

It's weird, going back so far in time and maturity to write my first:girl series. It's hard to get back into that head space where I was so young, awkward, naive, unsure, uneducated. It's hard not to cringe at the moments when I didn't know what it meant to be "butch" or what the Stonewall Riots were. I've had to delve into old journals to remember what I was thinking during that time, even though some exchanges are burned so clearly into my memory. Proof reading my first:girl series was like watching a video tape of someone else drowning. I want to swim out and help me, but I know I can't. I'm not there anymore. I had to learn to sink or swim on my own.

Even looking back on my first posts here, not nearly as far back as my love story, I was all over the place. I was a big, hot, lesbian mess, trying to fit myself into any box I could find. I'm so glad I found these beautiful safe spaces which helped me grow. Places like Sugarbutch, CCL, Dorothy Surrenders, and Alphafemme, with real authors, honest people who shared their experiences and their lives with me so that I might grow and learn. I can't thank them enough, especially Sinclair over at Sugarbutch, for the impact they've had on making me feel safe and like I wasn't alone on this journey.

But I have become someone extraordinarily different from who I was back then. I am confident, self-assured. I know what I need from a relationship and how to get it. I know how to give love, how to accept it, and how to walk away when I'm not going to get it. I am a sane, competent individual who understands different types of relationships, differing needs and wants and paradigms. I am someone who can stand my ground and hold my own beliefs without needing to blind myself to the opinions of those around me. I am no longer spectrum banging, but comfortable in the person I've settled into. That's not to say I don't shake things up occasionally, but everything is essentially me. I can also still be a hot mess when I'm running late for work and haven't done laundry or gone to the market and forget to comb my hair when I get out of the shower and look like Jane Porter (this is a chance for you to show me that you read).

I hope that you, wherever you are on your journey, in the closet or out for years, can come upon this feeling. That someday, you can stop chasing down and looking for who you really are, because you are comfortable in yourself. All that running is exhausting, and knowing the basics of who you are and what you want is really enjoyable.

First:girl Part 1

The day was sweaty, the room filled with estrogen, and gossip was a tangible, sticky humidity that clung to the skin. The summer sun poured in through the windows, and dust motes sparkled like a swirling cloud of yellow glitter.

A group of people walked into the far room, and the women around me peered at the fresh meat. Two tall boys, one pierced and dangerous, the other clean cut and a little dorky. With them was an amazon woman with long, flowing hair, and shorter than all of the others by at least a foot, was the person who caught my attention.

She was wearing beige plaid shorts that hit at the knee, black converse with holes in the sides, a gray short sleeved t-shirt, and had hair cropped short to the scalp with a fringe of bangs over her big amber colored eyes. When she looked up and grinned, her teeth were slightly crooked, giving a playful appearance.

I swear, I wanted her in that one moment. My pulse throbbed through me and my thoughts were nonexistent. My brain was too full of her. I was halfway out of my seat when one of the other girls pulled me back to reality with a touch on the arm and an accusing, "Where are you going?"

I slowly lowered myself into my seat, my heart pounding fiercely in my chest. I didn't want to let her out of my sight. I craved her presence, wanted to shake her hand merely for an excuse to touch her skin. I knew if she left and I never saw her again, there would never be another as wonderful as her. It was crazy, I didn't even know her! Hadn't heard her voice or learned her name!

But the group walked out of the room, and my heart sank to my feet. Losing all casual pretense, I got out of my chair and walked briskly to my manager. "Who were they?" I tried to sound nonchalant, but I'm sure my voice betrayed me.

"They are the new trainees. They will be working here starting next week," she answered me.

Thank God! I went back to my work station feeling dizzy. I sat down and thought about what next week would bring. I would find a reason to talk to her. Her preference didn't matter, who she had dated, who she was dating- I would charm her, woo her, romance her, and make her mine.

I dreamed of her every night for a week. I started work the next week hoping that we had been put on the same shift. It was a hectic day, and I quickly lost myself in the hustle and bustle of my work until I saw her in the hallway. I must have looked like a hot mess, because she was grinning at me in that way that suggested she had been watching me and was thoroughly amused by my actions. I pulled myself out of my crouched position and blew a piece of hair out of my face.

"Hi, I'm Tabby," I think I managed a grin as I held out my hand, and I knew my eyes were sparkling way too brightly to seem as if I was uninterested.

"Hey, I'm [first:girl]. I work in [a different department.]" She grinned in a cocky way and took my hand. She had the softest skin and her voice was slow and smooth. My heart was pounding in my throat and I felt a little high.

"Nice to meet you," oh my God, I was grinning like a fool. "Are you working [my shift]?" Her grin broadened and I swear she could see right through me.

"Yeah, I am. I'm really excited about it. I've signed on for the next year." (We were working on a contract basis.) She sounded so cool, why couldn't I be as cool as she was instead of a blundering idiot? I finally realized I'd been holding onto her hand for way too long and let go, taking in a breath as I told my heart to calm down.

"I guess we'll be seeing a lot of each other." Finally, something came out with a half grin and a somewhat languid inflection.

"I guess. See you around, Tabby." She turned and walked away to do her job, but I swear she was laughing at how obviously attracted I was to her.

I turned back to the hectic mess which was my job, crouching back down to the floor, but not really paying attention. My every thought was focused on her: the next time I'd see her, the next thing she'd say. There was no embarrassment at my actions, no shame at throwing myself at her, no questioning of my sexuality (which I had considered myself to be fairly straight only several days before.)

You have to understand that at this point, in my frame of mind, she was not a woman. She was not a taboo, and I was not a "lesbian." She defied labels of every sort. My sexuality never crossed my mind once as I focused on the task of getting first:girl to like me.

I'm posting all parts of my first:girl story over at tabbyqt.wordpress.com 
They are password protected, but just tweet me @tabbyqt or email me at tabbyqt@hotmail.com and I'll send you the password, no questions asked. 

Day 20 Heartbreak

30 Day Letter Challenge

Day 20 — The one that broke your heart the hardest

Sorry, guys, you know what this is going to be. I think it's about time you got the back story on first:girl. It's going to read kind of like a story, so, this should be fun. Because isn't heartbreak always?

Okay, going back into this, years ago, you need to know who I was.

You have to understand, going back in time, that I had questioned my sexuality for years but was only just beginning to act on it.  No one had ever expected me to be anything other than very straight, and very young. While I was smart, my social sense was underdeveloped. I was a social butterfly who didn't understand the games people played, a naive girl who believed in rainbows and acceptance and "true love conquers all."  I had just gone through a very confusing year, and the start to my summer hadn't exactly gone as planned (see Awakening) when I was totally rejected the first time I asked a girl on a date.

The second half of my summer started to look up when I got hit with a bolt of lightning at work one day.   

She was absolutely everything I ever wanted but never knew I could have.

I'm posting all parts of my first:girl story over at tabbyqt.wordpress.com 
They are password protected, but just tweet me @tabbyqt or email me at tabbyqt@hotmail.com and I'll send you the password, no questions asked.

Day 13 Forgiveness

30 Day Letter Challenge

Day 13 — Someone you wish could forgive you

I guess we're back to midnight posts. Who the hell came up with these? I feel like I'm in therapy.

Okay, so remember that roommate I was half in love with my first year of college? Right before the summer everything I knew came crashing down? I was a bitch to her. On her birthday. Not my finest moment.

She'd been chasing after this guy and I didn't want them to get together (I really liked her) so after a few rounds of some drinking game involving vodka, our close friend from out of town called and this really hilarious, loud, drunk guy put her on speakerphone. She was talking to everyone and saying happy birthday, and the guy my roommate was crushing on said something. That prompted loud drunk guy to introduce him as my roommate's new boyfriend as of the last few weeks.

I was drunk - I was hurt. It was her birthday, so I tried not to make a scene and let myself out the front door and walked around the block. I slid down the side of a car and began to cry. One of our friends, Mike - this really sweet, quiet guy, had followed me outside and sat down next to me.  I bawled, cursing my roommate, calling her horrible things because she hadn't even had the decency to tell me. She was sneaking around with him because she didn't trust me, didn't consider me a friend. The ultimate betrayal.

Yeah, I can over dramatic when I'm trashed.

Anyway, she had followed me out to apologize and heard all the awful things I said about her on her birthday, so when I tried to make amends she was having none of it. We've never spoken again.

She's getting married now, to some other guy. I'm sad that I lost a great friend over something so idiotic. I wish I would've kept my mouth shut. I wish she could forgive me.

Awakening

I dated boys for many years.  It started when I was 12.  When I was 13 I was dating a 16 year old, but he was my best friend, and very gay.  He was the best boyfriend I've ever had.  When I was 14, I had a "friend with benefits" open my eyes to the underbelly of the internet that the school had blocked.  Oh my God, girls could do that?  To each other? Obviously, he found it hot, but I don't think he expected it to turn me on so much.  Whatever got me in the mood, though, so he soothed me, convinced me it was absolutely normal for straight girls to feel aroused by it as he palmed his way under my shirt.

I will be forever grateful to him for showing me the true use of computers. 

However, it was with this way of thinking that I spent my high school years.  I was in unsatisfactory relationships, seeking adrenaline rushes, boyfriends, affairs, and taboos to feed this sexual void in me.  I couldn't figure out what was missing.  And then I slowly began to wake up.

m:2, we'll call her Mary, was my first girl crush that had me thinking sexual thoughts. I was in year 12, so ready to be done with high school, and she was a grade below myself. She had curly black hair (do you see a trend?) that was always in a ponytail, and a huge silver guitar for a belt buckle. She rocked out on it with headphones over her ears like she was practicing for a garage band.  She wore jeans and pullovers and the skater sneakers that make your feet look huge.

She was funny. She had a dry humor, a sarcastic wit, and her responses were lightning fast. Her brown eyes could swallow you. She never really smiled -it was always more of a half smirk, but that fit her perfectly.

At the time, I was convinced that I did not have a crush on her. Me? Gay? No way. I went to school with lesbians, I was friends with lesbians, I was part of the GSA. I'd heard them all talk, when you're gay you know it all the way from when you're a kid.

I remember the first time Mary hugged me. There was skin to skin contact and it was a long time before I let her go. No boy had ever made me want to hug him like that. She smelled wonderful and her body fit along mine like we were two halves of the same whole. I fantasized about hugging her, kissing her, seeing her without her sweatshirt. We went on this school trip and stayed at a hotel, and when we all went swimming she had the most amazing body. Her arms were like woah. But of course that didn't mean that I was gay. As my feelings grew I passed them off as a fluke, a one time thing with just one girl. It helped that Mary wasn't gay, so what was the point of trying to talk to her about it?

I graduated, and found out two months later that she came out and was identifying strongly as a butch lesbian. Way to go, me.

I started college that fall. Again, I found myself crushing on a girl. Luckily, m:3 (I'm realizing that I like a lot of girls whose names start with M) was not the girl I was sharing a room with. My roommate and I got along well enough. m:3 had the room next to ours, and she was something else. She was slightly taller than me and much curvier. She was gorgeous. We traded clothes, dresses, makeup. We hugged all the time or snuggled on the couch together under a blanket watching TV. She would curl into my arms and beg me to play with her hair and it was so long and beautiful and felt like silk between my fingers. We sometimes cuddled and fell asleep in the same bed or on the couch, but she was firmly straight, so I couldn't possibly think of her that way at all.

We started having crushes on the same guy, and I realized that I was jealous. I didn't want them to date because then she wouldn't be spending time with me or cuddling with me. I never had dreams about kissing her, never thought of having sex with her, but I craved skin to skin contact. She was so soft, so smooth, so warm that I snuggled up to her like a cat. I was happy just being next to her, sleeping beside her.

I went nine months in silence, not thinking that I liked her in a lesbian way, but I knew something about my feelings for her was different. She graduated and moved away after I let my jealousy get the better of me.  She refused to speak to me and I was crushed.  Soon after, the summer of my life stormed in like a hurricane.

It began with Patty: she was a very short, curvy thing with gorgeous black hair and dark eyes. She had an attitude that was so strong, confident, sexy. I couldn't take my eyes off her. After m:3, I was a little wary about all of my wonky feelings around girls and I wasn't about to get heartbroken again. I befriended Patty quickly during our shifts together at work, and her laugh was extraordinary. She taunted boys and girls both with her bountiful assets, but I couldn't get a read on her. Would she be offended if I asked her out?

She was constantly teasing the lesbian girl who worked with us. I knew her vaguely- she had been infatuated with m:3 and made her extremely uncomfortable, but Patty didn't seem so uncomfortable, so maybe she'd be open to the idea.  I remembered that m:3 was no longer talking to me and I decided I'd be damned if I let another girl slip away.

We were joking one day at work and I tried to be casual about it. "So, Patty, you want to go out on a date sometime?"

"Tabby, you're such a charmer!" she laughed. "Ran out of cute guys to ask?"

"You're prettier than they are," I threw out the compliment unabashedly, but she laughed and took a sip of her water. "God, I wish more people were as sweet as you," she said and walked out.

I sighed and leaned my head back against the wall. She thought I was joking.   She thought I was super sweet, which was great, but also that I was straight and joking.

That night I went out to a party, got drunk, and made out with a boy. It was wholly unsatisfying. The next week, Patty began dating the lesbian girl from work. Shit.

Age/Love

I have always been most attracted to people who are older than me. The first woman was 4 years older than me, and the next was 5, the next 7, the next 7, the next 8...Do you see a pattern here?

I am wondering if it is because there is something missing in my age group. It is so hard to find decent women who aren't 5-15 years older than I am. Most of my generation is rude. Most people my age grew up to be disrespectful, impolite, without manners or rudimentary etiquette. Maybe this is part of the reason why I go for women at the extreme ends of the butch/femme spectrum, because they have a beautiful set of mannerisms and behaviors that endears me to them.

With the butch and femme women that I have encountered, there has been self study into their identities. They are intelligent, there's a thirst for good conversation and enlightenment. I can't imagine going out with any of the people I have met and seeing them yell at the waiter or stiff a tip. They have respect for each individual. They are polite. They hold doors or say thank you when someone holds the door for them. That simple thank you is what endears me to a person, and the lack of that simple phrase will make me end a relationship.

The queer girls my age are mean, angry, and bitter. They enjoy protesting and yelling at people who don't understand us. But yelling doesn't help them to understand us. I want to be with someone who respectfully talks to the religious, the traditional about who we are. There are some people who have never encountered an LGBT individual. Bitching that person out isn't going to make them like us or want to treat us like equal citizens. That's not the way to go about it.

So I date the people who were either raised with better manners, or have gotten past the rebel stage in their life. I date the people who help me pass out cookies around the block and chat with the neighbors about the flowers.

Just to clarify: I think age is just a number. It just occurred to me why I date older women than myself, so I wrote about it. I also know that there are exceptions to all of this, I am just generalizing.

P.S. Just wait till I get to why I (for the most part) don't date girls younger than myself, though there are plenty who want to. That post should be a real treat.

PIP/Confused

PIP is Post in Progress, in my own personal language.

It's because I ran into first:girl last night, and it threw off my whole balance of being. I rushed home and scribbled out everything I was feeling and going through, but I don't want to, in haste, write something that I will regret. Maybe that particular post needs to wait until I can write about how first:girl and I met, how my relationship with her began.

I feel like if I write about her with how I feel right now, she'll be placed as the bad guy, but she's not at all, and I love her enough that I want you to view her from the good and bad. From the beginning. I just can't bring myself to go back to that point in time.

Storytime/parallel lives

Meredith Baxter just came out and pretty much summed up my high school years in just a few sentences.

'But in an interview with Today show host Matt Lauer, she revealed that she had had a "later-in-life recognition" of her sexuality and has been in a relationship with her girlfriend for four years.

"Some people were saying, 'Were you living a lie?' You know, the truth is, not at all," Baxter told Lauer, saying she'd only been out for the last seven years.

Baxter said she'd always had a great deal of difficulty connecting with men in relationships, but she was also involved with people who made her think they were the problem.

"It never occurred with me to think, 'Oh, it's me."'

See the rest of the article here.

It's such a relief to know that some people never felt queer growing up. Most people I talk to say something along the lines of "by the time I was 15 I was experimenting and knew I was attracted to girls." That's just not the way it went for me. I was 17 before I even looked at girls with the possibility that I found them sexually attractive. I was almost 19 before I had a thought that there was a possibility that I would consider having sex with a woman. Gay? I didn't consider that possibility until I was the same age as most of my friends had already come out of the closet. Granted, I was never really in the closet. Once I realized "hey! I want to have sex with women!" my friends already knew and my mother and my sister were the first people I told. (Granted, my grandparents don't know, but they are old and fragile and I don't want to cause unnecessary heart attacks unless I'm bringing a girl home to them.)

I also found this quote from Teh Portly Dyke today

"And I think that's a big part of what's kept me from blogging. Part of what marks me as the "New Improved Portly Dyke -- Now More Functional!!" (in my mind, at least), is that...is no longer the central issue of my life every single day -- and I think that when peeling time comes around again, I get scared that it will subsume my life as it did 18 years ago."

This feels a lot like what is happening now. I don't expect to write about much more than my sexuality at the moment because it is still so new. It's also why my friends and family won't be reading this. This is a safe place for me to explore, to to bare myself without fear that the people who have predispositions about who I am or should be will contaminate this experimental area.

I'm obsessed right now with being gay. Obsessed because I don't understand it. Obsessed because I was introduced to it and then left out in the cold. Obsessed because I thought I would never enjoy being in a relationship, or loving, or having sex. Now I have the capacity and the urge to do all those things without having anyone to do them with. I think it's only reasonable that I am obsessed. So this is what I write about.

Laughable/Comfortable

Seeing old friends from high school who knew you as straight is not that fun. Not that they aren't wonderful, accepting people; it's just that orientation becomes everything. To those people you are something new, something they never expected you to be, or had never encountered before.

Seeing old friends who have always known you as gay is absolutely wonderful. Needless to say, I've just done that. I went to dinner with seven people I attended college with, and someone new. Everything was warm and friendly and funny (and it helped that there was another queer woman and two gay men at the table). Sex came up, of course, but it wasn't wonderment or disgust, it was practicality and "who're you seeing now?"

It was wonderful to talk about sexuality, topping, bottoming, even having crushes on straight people and how to cross that bridge whenever we have come to it. (I'm crossing that bridge at the moment.)

When we started talking about labeling and why people do or do not assign labels to themselves it was nice to have someone understand that I want to label myself for me. When I mentioned that I had tried to label myself as butch for a period of time the entire table burst into laughter. Apparently I am the least butch girl they had ever seen. Once I explained that I was trying to label my whole persona by how I feel in bed they were more understanding. I'm still waiting as to what about me is not butch at all.

There was a beautiful woman three tables over who kept meeting my eye. She had glossy black curls, dark brown eyes, a mouth that begged to be kissed, and an overcoat that was too trendy for the little hick-city we were in.

The bathroom had two stalls, so when my friend and I walked in, we waited. Interestingly enough, the two women inside were talking about the double date they were on. This piqued my interest as one girl started talking about her (female) date and how she just wasn't interested.

The beautiful woman who kept catching my eye across the dining room walked out. I let her pass by me to the sink and took her place in the stall as she kept chatting. "She's just a baby. I'm going to end up taking care of her. She's not emotionally ready." Every moment she kept talking my heart was pulled in two directions. I wanted to take care of this beautiful femme with full lips. I wanted to pull her glossy hair and watch her submit to me while I fucked her. I wanted her to shudder underneath me and pull my body to hers; seeking my body heat, wanting my comfort. The other side of me cowered in fear. Was this what I would appear to be? A baby who'd never had sex? Someone who needed to be taken care of?

I wanted to walk out of the stall, press her into the counter and watch her expressions in the mirror as I kissed her neck. I wanted her to melt in my hands until she would whisper a plea for me to drive her home. I wanted to prove that my love and respect for strong femmes would urge me to take care of her, and not the other way around.

I just didn't know if all that would constitute as a lie. I don't feel young, afraid, or unready. But I also don't want to make anyone else take care of me if it turns out that I am any one of the above.

The other night, I had a moment. I was laying in bed trying to get to sleep, and scenes from my adolescence kept flashing before me. It was different, to have a realization hit you without urging. An epiphany that gave me the courage to finally move forward in my life, to plan for a future without the fear that my sexual orientation is just a phase.

It was like I felt my soul click into my chest.

Though I didn't make a move for the beautiful woman I will probably never see again, I have that knowledge that I am here, I am real, I am comfortable with who I am (maybe for the first time in my life).

But it helps that I have feelings for both my wonderful new friend and a straight girl that my life path keeps intersecting with, too.

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.

Lost my Identity

The Butch/Femme dichotomy. The perfect relationship. The give and take between two fierce personalities, two extreme forms of beauty.
 

Why don’t I fit in?

When I realized what was going on with me, I read Mr. Sexsmith’s blog, and it made so much sense. I understood the struggle of power, the need to find my own identity, the love of topping, the admiration of femmes. But I’m not butch. I feel like a gentleman sometimes; I love to pay for dinner, open doors, pull out chairs for the beautiful woman who has my eye. However, if I am with a more emotionally masculine or dominant woman, I love to play to her longings, let her pull out my chair for me or tuck a stray hair into place. I love to catch her eye from under my lashes and make her feel powerful. 

On the superficial scale of butch and femme, I believe I don’t look good enough to go out of the house without mascara, even if I don’t put anything else on. However, I also hate dresses, wear heels only when necessary, and I don't like lipstick.

I want to fit into this beautiful power play. I want to be a part of this gender society where your partner helps your identity along and the power exchange is intense. Where you feel butch because of the way her body melts in your hands and her fingers flex against your back as you enter her. Where you feel feminine because of the way she protects you, the way she envelopes you and makes it safe to be fragile. 

I think it would help if I had sex. With somebody. Anybody. I always thought that when people figure out they are gay they experiment, they have relationships, they have sex, they figure out what they want in the sexual aspect of the relationship. Top, bottom, dom, sub, switch, whatever.

It seems all I do is fall hard for women who don’t want me for one reason or another. I’m a floundering baby dyke in a world where no one believes I’m gay because I’ve never had sex or a relationship. How does a girl who has never had a relationship with a man know that they are straight? Because of who they fall in love with, right?

I’m gay. I’m just a fish out of water. I am an inexperienced 13 year old surrounded by women who have gone through hell and heartbreak.

I am so out of my league here.