Last night I had a dream where I was at some sort of summer camp and all the lesbians I've ever known were outside playing/having sex/joking around/whatever in the water trough/pool area outside. I felt hurt, embarrassed, left out. My friend Lauren was with them even though she's always been straight and since we were the closest, I joked with her first, calling across the courtyard.
"Lauren, what the hell?" I tried to laugh. "Did you think I wasn't cool enough to invite or something?"
She looked at the girl next to her and then smiled at me, "We thought you were busy otherwise we totally would have invited you." She swam to the edge of the pool near me and I knelt down in front of her. I could feel them, all of them, staring at us while their hands skimmed along skin under the water.
"I can handle it," I assured Lauren, and then out of desperation and anxiety and fear I grabbed her and kissed her quickly. I felt nauseated. I wasn't attracted to her and everyone knew it. She was my friend, my good friend, and instead of making myself fit in I was just floundering further, drowning in the sea of manipulative games and subcultures and titles. Lauren looked at me - angrily, harshly, and I tried to backtrack. "Look, this doesn't mean you're gay or that I like you, I just-" I tried to explain that I wanted to prove myself but she cut my off.
"I don't know what you take me for," I'd never heard her so cold and harsh, "but I'm not gay. And if I were, I'd definitely go for the pretty femmes." I recoiled. Which you're not was implied in her sentence. I'd never been attached to the title of femme, but the way she tore it from me left me reeling - empty handed and wanting to cry.
I feel this a lot. I feel this all the time. Constantly defending and proving and feeling like my sexuality is not broadcast clearly enough. Constantly feeling as though "lesbian" is an exclusive club to which I am not invited or wanted. Constantly aggravated because I'm subjected to male gaze and overtures while easily passed over by lesbians and dismissed as less than or an outsider.
Maybe I'm not femme, but Femme Invisibilty seems to apply to me so easily.
I understand that it is my own shortcomings and brainwashings and past manipulations that have given me this not enough complex, but just because I know that doesn't make it go away. It's a trend in all my writings - not enough - and I'm trying so hard to tamp that down but then it rears up in dreams like this and I know it's still plaguing me.
Showing posts with label labels. Show all posts
Showing posts with label labels. Show all posts
Jan 28, 2013
Jan 1, 2013
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.
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.
Dec 29, 2012
SO GAY
The So Gay necklace caught my eye because I am not a huge fan of using the word "lesbian" to describe myself, and I like the sense of humor tucked into the phrase while reclaiming it for myself. The bars stand for equality, which is lovely. I also received an Equality key chain which makes me smile every time I look at it and will keep my keys company (and little activists).
I don't usually wear jewelry, but I can see this becoming a nice statement piece. I've already tried it on with dresses, t-shirts, blouses, and...numerous other things, and I love the way it looks with all of them! She makes resin and steel pieces with an assortment of fun and fantastic phrases to suit all your moods, so go check out her store and see if you find something you like! I can't wait to go to the local coffee shop and see what my androgynous/possibly gay/I-can't-quite-read-her-sexuality barista says!
It makes me feel good to wear it and that's the most important thing. If you've been waiting a lifetime for a Femme necklace, here's your chance! If you want Mrs. and Mrs. hearts or Butch Pride tags this is the place to get them :) I love how I look and I love how I feel. Check out her shop and let me know which one makes you feel best :D
Dec 24, 2012
Two Sided Coins
The phrase "both sides of the coin" seems to come up a lot with me. It came up in Updates/Desires, in my first Lesbian/Bisexual post years ago, in my very first post here.
I am two sides to the story, I am two points of view - so much so, that sometimes it feels like I'm two people. I'm butch and femme, gentle and fierce, hardworking and lazy, kind and mean, ugly and beautiful, educated and gullible, elegant and clumsy. I am pro-troops and anti-war, pro-charity and yet I don't give, pro-women's rights yet still uncomfortable with high abortion rates, a lover of art with no talent or background, a musician too scared to play, a writer - published - who now can't undertake anything more than a blog.
I am an amalgamation of people. So many paradoxical ideas - all living and breathing and trying to coexist inside one body. Over the course of this blog, some of you who have been with me since the beginning have seen me search for who I am and what my box is. I don't fit in a box.
But maybe I went searching for my box the wrong way. I went searching for everything I wanted to be, so confused, so naive and drowning in a world of terms and relationships that I didn't understand. Not once did I ask myself what I wanted. Not once did I ask myself what I needed. So caught up in figuring out what was wrong with me, I just assumed that anyone I fell in love with would be perfect, would be right.
And to some extent, every girl is perfect. Every girl fits some piece of me, some part that longs to blossom into life and is nurtured along by her and I can be happy with her. But not every girl can understand that I see through a fractured crystal of a lens, and all the fragments blink back eighteen different images rather than the solitary one an average person sees.
Maybe if I'd asked myself what I need in a relationship, the compassion, the giving heart, the fiery spirit, the conviction, and maybe the ability to see or understand how I see the world, I would have found myself sooner. Would have realized that instead of trying to fit into the butch/femme dynamic, I live both inside and above it - like an umbrella, understanding what lies beneath but ultimately too much and too widely spread to say I belong.
Both sides of a coin.
Here's your Christmas Present: The erotic tales of Caci and Natalie beginning and conclusion on Rainbow Sprinkles ;) You're Welcome!
This just seems to fit all the themes going on my head this week, and when I wrote this post it ended up getting stuck in my head.
I am two sides to the story, I am two points of view - so much so, that sometimes it feels like I'm two people. I'm butch and femme, gentle and fierce, hardworking and lazy, kind and mean, ugly and beautiful, educated and gullible, elegant and clumsy. I am pro-troops and anti-war, pro-charity and yet I don't give, pro-women's rights yet still uncomfortable with high abortion rates, a lover of art with no talent or background, a musician too scared to play, a writer - published - who now can't undertake anything more than a blog.
I am an amalgamation of people. So many paradoxical ideas - all living and breathing and trying to coexist inside one body. Over the course of this blog, some of you who have been with me since the beginning have seen me search for who I am and what my box is. I don't fit in a box.
But maybe I went searching for my box the wrong way. I went searching for everything I wanted to be, so confused, so naive and drowning in a world of terms and relationships that I didn't understand. Not once did I ask myself what I wanted. Not once did I ask myself what I needed. So caught up in figuring out what was wrong with me, I just assumed that anyone I fell in love with would be perfect, would be right.
And to some extent, every girl is perfect. Every girl fits some piece of me, some part that longs to blossom into life and is nurtured along by her and I can be happy with her. But not every girl can understand that I see through a fractured crystal of a lens, and all the fragments blink back eighteen different images rather than the solitary one an average person sees.
Maybe if I'd asked myself what I need in a relationship, the compassion, the giving heart, the fiery spirit, the conviction, and maybe the ability to see or understand how I see the world, I would have found myself sooner. Would have realized that instead of trying to fit into the butch/femme dynamic, I live both inside and above it - like an umbrella, understanding what lies beneath but ultimately too much and too widely spread to say I belong.
Both sides of a coin.
Here's your Christmas Present: The erotic tales of Caci and Natalie beginning and conclusion on Rainbow Sprinkles ;) You're Welcome!
This just seems to fit all the themes going on my head this week, and when I wrote this post it ended up getting stuck in my head.
Nov 11, 2012
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.
Oct 17, 2012
Good Lookin' Wednesday
I'm going to try to type quickly and see if I can still get this up on a Wednesday, PST, at least.
So, you know what really hampers being good lookin'? All your pets. Don't get me wrong, we of the soft-hearted gay/lesbian/queer/insert-term-here society have a HUGE thing about taking in strays and loving our animals. We have not so much love for the fleas, ticks, and other hungry bugs our cuddly little balls of fluff bring with them.
Cool thing about fleas- animal fleas will bite humans but will not nest in human hair or live on the human body. They do leave crazy bite marks and welts that are scarily unattractive. First time getting naked with a lady you do not want to have flea bites all over you, right? So, bring on the remedy, you say! (This also works for scabies and bed bugs if you have an unfortunate run in with either of those.)
So, you know what really hampers being good lookin'? All your pets. Don't get me wrong, we of the soft-hearted gay/lesbian/queer/insert-term-here society have a HUGE thing about taking in strays and loving our animals. We have not so much love for the fleas, ticks, and other hungry bugs our cuddly little balls of fluff bring with them.
Cool thing about fleas- animal fleas will bite humans but will not nest in human hair or live on the human body. They do leave crazy bite marks and welts that are scarily unattractive. First time getting naked with a lady you do not want to have flea bites all over you, right? So, bring on the remedy, you say! (This also works for scabies and bed bugs if you have an unfortunate run in with either of those.)
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| 100% Pure Tea Tree (Melaleuca) Oil |
Oct 7, 2012
Gay is Definite
I'm gay.
With all the labels and all the struggles- trying to find a term that fits everything I am, only one word seems to encompass it all. Queer, femme, butch, lesbian, woman, genderqueer, genderfuck, and dyke have all been tried on with varying degrees of success. Each one felt like a plaster mold into which I was pouring and conforming myself to meet its definition.
When I stopped writing over these past two years, I stopped trying on words, frantically, as if they were outfits five minutes before a date. I took my time and slowed things down. I came out to my family. Coming out to strangers had been no problem in the past, but my uber-religious family was scary. Turns out I didn't have much to be frightened of. But in the time that I stopped searching for words to mold myself into, I found the word that molded itself to me.
Gay.
Such a simple, unhindered word, traditionally used for the male sex, but that doesn't hang me up. People understand it immediately. Unlike other terms which begin a lengthy discussion of who I am and what I identify as (don't get me wrong, I love lengthy discussions, but not every time) the term "gay" is very quickly grasped.
To be gay in society has a certain connotation. Gay is not a phase, not something to be outgrown or moved past with "the right person." Gay is not a lifestyle choice. Gay is unchanging; gay is forever.
Gay is definite.
Everyone has a word they feel most comfortable with, and when they say those words with pride, when they announce to the world, "I identify as genderqueer," or "I'm a femme," it gives that person strength, power, joy- a sense of self and confidence.
But for me, each time I tried to label myself, the words rang false. Instead of joy and pride, I felt an emptiness and a longing. Until now, when people ask, and I can simply say, "I'm gay," and it makes me smile. If it's with a random passerby, the inevitable question thereafter is, "so are you butch or is your girlfriend?" because a lot of people still believe all lesbian relationships are butch/femme.
"I'm just gay," I laugh, and who cares if they're confused. It's my word, and the freedom attached to it has never felt so good.
With all the labels and all the struggles- trying to find a term that fits everything I am, only one word seems to encompass it all. Queer, femme, butch, lesbian, woman, genderqueer, genderfuck, and dyke have all been tried on with varying degrees of success. Each one felt like a plaster mold into which I was pouring and conforming myself to meet its definition.
When I stopped writing over these past two years, I stopped trying on words, frantically, as if they were outfits five minutes before a date. I took my time and slowed things down. I came out to my family. Coming out to strangers had been no problem in the past, but my uber-religious family was scary. Turns out I didn't have much to be frightened of. But in the time that I stopped searching for words to mold myself into, I found the word that molded itself to me.
Gay.
Such a simple, unhindered word, traditionally used for the male sex, but that doesn't hang me up. People understand it immediately. Unlike other terms which begin a lengthy discussion of who I am and what I identify as (don't get me wrong, I love lengthy discussions, but not every time) the term "gay" is very quickly grasped.
To be gay in society has a certain connotation. Gay is not a phase, not something to be outgrown or moved past with "the right person." Gay is not a lifestyle choice. Gay is unchanging; gay is forever.
Gay is definite.
Everyone has a word they feel most comfortable with, and when they say those words with pride, when they announce to the world, "I identify as genderqueer," or "I'm a femme," it gives that person strength, power, joy- a sense of self and confidence.
But for me, each time I tried to label myself, the words rang false. Instead of joy and pride, I felt an emptiness and a longing. Until now, when people ask, and I can simply say, "I'm gay," and it makes me smile. If it's with a random passerby, the inevitable question thereafter is, "so are you butch or is your girlfriend?" because a lot of people still believe all lesbian relationships are butch/femme.
"I'm just gay," I laugh, and who cares if they're confused. It's my word, and the freedom attached to it has never felt so good.
Sep 24, 2012
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.
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.
Sep 21, 2012
Stopgaps
Crap. I went away for two years- just stopped writing. I'm so sorry. I don't think that I can do anything or say anything that would make you understand. When I started this blog *gulp* three long years ago, I was still so broken. Every time I tried to write about what was truly eating at me, I couldn't. I put it off and put it off because I was still in love with, still heartbroken over, the first girl to bring down all my barriers.
By starting this blog, I tried to give myself a space to explore all the other things that were going on inside me. All of my daily gender struggles, my issues with my sexuality- I turned to you as a community for strength, guidance and compassion, and I'm thankful for all you've given me.
When I left, I had just had surgery. It was hard for me to eat, physically, and I could feel the old habits of my anorexia creeping back up on me. While I've never been diagnosed or hospitalized, anorexia is never very far from my mind. The opportunity handed to me on a silver platter, to relapse with a perfectly good and unquestionable excuse, was too hard to pass up. I lost forty pounds. I felt amazing. As with all things, it was a cycle. I had to eat eventually and am now back up to my former weight. It's been an interesting two years. I've dated, I've learned, I've grown, I've started to heal, and I think I've become more comfortable with myself.
All those thoughts that were constantly plaguing me about who I was, about labeling myself, have faded into the background. I am who I am and I enjoy the person I've become, for the most part. There are always things I'm going to want to change about myself, but for now I'm not so focused on how I want to be labeled in a relationship or should be labeled. I just act, and let things go from there.
When I started the blog I said I was going to write about being gay, because it was so new and overwhelming that I felt obsessed with it. I feel like it overshadowed all else that I was, and sometimes it still does, but more and more sides of me are stepping into the spotlight, and that's the way I want it to be.
If you'd read my initial post from last night, you know that I had a relationship end. She was a sweet, charming, raunchy girl that made me laugh constantly. I don't know why I let her go, but I think that part of it was that I'm not quite healed. So I've started something that I ached to do a long time ago, but never had the courage or conviction.
I've started writing about first:girl. I feel like I've referred to her enough that I owe you my story, and maybe I owe it to myself to tell it. It doesn't hurt me anymore to think about it. I still occasionally get shivers when I think about her, or feel a warm glow when I remember her smile, but it was four years ago- long enough to feel like it happened to another person. I'm so different now than I was then.
I hope, in telling it, the remnant of longing will disappear, and I can finally shut that door. And perhaps all of you will finally feel like you know me as more than just words on a backlit screen, because every part of who I used to be was wrapped up in her. I want you to know me. I'm so sorry I disappeared, but I'm back and baring my soul for the world.
By starting this blog, I tried to give myself a space to explore all the other things that were going on inside me. All of my daily gender struggles, my issues with my sexuality- I turned to you as a community for strength, guidance and compassion, and I'm thankful for all you've given me.
When I left, I had just had surgery. It was hard for me to eat, physically, and I could feel the old habits of my anorexia creeping back up on me. While I've never been diagnosed or hospitalized, anorexia is never very far from my mind. The opportunity handed to me on a silver platter, to relapse with a perfectly good and unquestionable excuse, was too hard to pass up. I lost forty pounds. I felt amazing. As with all things, it was a cycle. I had to eat eventually and am now back up to my former weight. It's been an interesting two years. I've dated, I've learned, I've grown, I've started to heal, and I think I've become more comfortable with myself.
All those thoughts that were constantly plaguing me about who I was, about labeling myself, have faded into the background. I am who I am and I enjoy the person I've become, for the most part. There are always things I'm going to want to change about myself, but for now I'm not so focused on how I want to be labeled in a relationship or should be labeled. I just act, and let things go from there.
When I started the blog I said I was going to write about being gay, because it was so new and overwhelming that I felt obsessed with it. I feel like it overshadowed all else that I was, and sometimes it still does, but more and more sides of me are stepping into the spotlight, and that's the way I want it to be.
If you'd read my initial post from last night, you know that I had a relationship end. She was a sweet, charming, raunchy girl that made me laugh constantly. I don't know why I let her go, but I think that part of it was that I'm not quite healed. So I've started something that I ached to do a long time ago, but never had the courage or conviction.
I've started writing about first:girl. I feel like I've referred to her enough that I owe you my story, and maybe I owe it to myself to tell it. It doesn't hurt me anymore to think about it. I still occasionally get shivers when I think about her, or feel a warm glow when I remember her smile, but it was four years ago- long enough to feel like it happened to another person. I'm so different now than I was then.
I hope, in telling it, the remnant of longing will disappear, and I can finally shut that door. And perhaps all of you will finally feel like you know me as more than just words on a backlit screen, because every part of who I used to be was wrapped up in her. I want you to know me. I'm so sorry I disappeared, but I'm back and baring my soul for the world.
Apr 5, 2010
Lesbian/ Bisexual
There was a post done over at Sasha's Card Carrying Lesbian entitled "Bi-sexual Lesbians...An Oxymoron?" which brought up some fun things for me. There were several comments which brought to light how prominent Biphobia is in LGT circles, and I personally think that is a little strange. We, as members of the queer community come across a lot of prejudice, and I feel awful subjecting someone else to discrimination because of their sexuality.
This is my hastily typed post after I first read the article:
"I think that there is always a chance for the right person to come along in a gender that is unexpected for the individual, no matter if the person is gay, straight, or any other sexuality.
I don’t date men in hopes that one of them will be right for me. I date women with that hope. However, if I fell in love with my best male friend without trying, I would probably try out a relationship with him. I think that closing yourself off completely to the opposite or same gender is just reinforcing the gender binary. All the movies where the straight girl falls for the lesbian gives hope that love transcends sexuality, and that can happen in any direction, in my opinion."
However, looking back on it, I half-lied. While I believe sexuality is somewhat fluid, I'm not the true definition of bisexual, and it would take a potential soul mate for me to venture into seeking a relationship with a person of the other gender. If I found myself inexplicably in love with a man I'm not saying that I would close myself off and dismiss a possible relationship with him, however, I don't think that I could ever have a lasting relationship with a heteronormative man, even if I was in love with him.
I take such comfort in my own personal ability to perform outside the gender binary that I feel, right now, as if being in a heterosexual relationship would cause me to feel trapped in a heteronormative female role.
There are so many freedoms in lesbian relationships that seem awkward and ill fitting in heteronormative relationships. I love to pay for her dinner, tuck her stray hair into place, open her doors, tell her she's beautiful, etc... What I am poorly trying to convey with awful, cliche examples is that there is an understanding in lesbian cultures that these sorts of gestures help to reinforce a certain identity for an individual, or a mood for that particular evening.
When a woman curls into me and buries her head in my shoulder, she is giving me her vulnerability and simultaneously reaffirming my own identity as a strong, nurturing individual. When she kneels down on the elevator floor and slips off my heels, carrying them for me as she wraps a stable arm around my waist, she is enabling my vulnerable side, providing me with someone to lean on; she is showing me that it is okay to acknowledge a side of myself which I am less than comfortable with.
There is a dynamic in my lesbian relationships that allows our identities to flow, transferring the weight between the two of us. I want to be in a relationship where I feel butch because of how she treats me, or how I feel femme because of her chivalry, and how I play into her. I don't feel like I can have that sort of dynamic with a man, and that dynamic is a huge part of who I am, sexually and emotionally. That power play is one of the things I feel is crucial to my being.
Being with a woman feels less lopsided to me; it feels more equal. In past relationships with men I was constantly playing the damsel in distress, which made me feel so weak that I would close myself of completely and be stone cold, until I was afraid I couldn't feel anymore and cycled back to the damsel in distress. This was an unhealthy emotional environment for me, and it never felt equal.
There are always exceptions, but for the most part the heteronormative male seeks to stay within the gender binary, rather than stepping into a foreign dynamic. While the heteronormative male is becoming increasingly more open to options other than the gender binary, I am still not as comfortable being myself (taking and giving power as I see fit) with men.
I have felt more comfortable with a few bisexual men, and I feel like they understand what I need more than the straight male who has never stepped foot inside LGBTQ territory. So while I feel that I could potentially fall in love with anyone, I also feel like I need to date inside the LGBTQ world because LGBTQ people seem to be the only ones who really understand what I need, and possibly share in that same need.
(I do realize that by writing this post, I am, in fact, reinforcing the gender binary for myself, making me a hypocrite in my own words. Unfortunately, as much as I try to erase the gender binary for myself, it's very hard to get rid of all that the gender binary encompasses and the impact it had on me while I was growing up.)
(I also did not mention my intense physical attraction toward women and lack thereof toward men because I try to write about more than just that physical attraction and focus on the emotional needs.)
This is my hastily typed post after I first read the article:
"I think that there is always a chance for the right person to come along in a gender that is unexpected for the individual, no matter if the person is gay, straight, or any other sexuality.
I don’t date men in hopes that one of them will be right for me. I date women with that hope. However, if I fell in love with my best male friend without trying, I would probably try out a relationship with him. I think that closing yourself off completely to the opposite or same gender is just reinforcing the gender binary. All the movies where the straight girl falls for the lesbian gives hope that love transcends sexuality, and that can happen in any direction, in my opinion."
However, looking back on it, I half-lied. While I believe sexuality is somewhat fluid, I'm not the true definition of bisexual, and it would take a potential soul mate for me to venture into seeking a relationship with a person of the other gender. If I found myself inexplicably in love with a man I'm not saying that I would close myself off and dismiss a possible relationship with him, however, I don't think that I could ever have a lasting relationship with a heteronormative man, even if I was in love with him.
I take such comfort in my own personal ability to perform outside the gender binary that I feel, right now, as if being in a heterosexual relationship would cause me to feel trapped in a heteronormative female role.
There are so many freedoms in lesbian relationships that seem awkward and ill fitting in heteronormative relationships. I love to pay for her dinner, tuck her stray hair into place, open her doors, tell her she's beautiful, etc... What I am poorly trying to convey with awful, cliche examples is that there is an understanding in lesbian cultures that these sorts of gestures help to reinforce a certain identity for an individual, or a mood for that particular evening.
When a woman curls into me and buries her head in my shoulder, she is giving me her vulnerability and simultaneously reaffirming my own identity as a strong, nurturing individual. When she kneels down on the elevator floor and slips off my heels, carrying them for me as she wraps a stable arm around my waist, she is enabling my vulnerable side, providing me with someone to lean on; she is showing me that it is okay to acknowledge a side of myself which I am less than comfortable with.
There is a dynamic in my lesbian relationships that allows our identities to flow, transferring the weight between the two of us. I want to be in a relationship where I feel butch because of how she treats me, or how I feel femme because of her chivalry, and how I play into her. I don't feel like I can have that sort of dynamic with a man, and that dynamic is a huge part of who I am, sexually and emotionally. That power play is one of the things I feel is crucial to my being.
Being with a woman feels less lopsided to me; it feels more equal. In past relationships with men I was constantly playing the damsel in distress, which made me feel so weak that I would close myself of completely and be stone cold, until I was afraid I couldn't feel anymore and cycled back to the damsel in distress. This was an unhealthy emotional environment for me, and it never felt equal.
There are always exceptions, but for the most part the heteronormative male seeks to stay within the gender binary, rather than stepping into a foreign dynamic. While the heteronormative male is becoming increasingly more open to options other than the gender binary, I am still not as comfortable being myself (taking and giving power as I see fit) with men.
I have felt more comfortable with a few bisexual men, and I feel like they understand what I need more than the straight male who has never stepped foot inside LGBTQ territory. So while I feel that I could potentially fall in love with anyone, I also feel like I need to date inside the LGBTQ world because LGBTQ people seem to be the only ones who really understand what I need, and possibly share in that same need.
(I do realize that by writing this post, I am, in fact, reinforcing the gender binary for myself, making me a hypocrite in my own words. Unfortunately, as much as I try to erase the gender binary for myself, it's very hard to get rid of all that the gender binary encompasses and the impact it had on me while I was growing up.)
(I also did not mention my intense physical attraction toward women and lack thereof toward men because I try to write about more than just that physical attraction and focus on the emotional needs.)
Apr 3, 2010
Lavendar Lens/ Part 2
I received a comment to my original Lavender Lens post and figured I should respond to it in part 2. This is the comment I received:
"My impression is that the standard word for a three-person relationship is "triad."
I feel like the losing-ground-for-gay-marriage argument is a dangerous one. If there's a majority shift away from monogamous relationships, wouldn't that indicate a problem with prioritizing marriage, and therefore prioritizing the recognition of monogamous queer relationships over multipartner relationships? Monogamous gay politics often takes a worrying "us first" attitude towards polyamorous lifestyles, just as cis gay politics sometimes does toward trans folks.
The marriage debate in general tends to do this -- many of the rights associated with marriage are things that people in nonmonogamous relationships want and deserve, and even that single people want and deserve. People sometimes neglect the need to challenge why it makes sense to be restricting these rights to people in particular kinds of relationships in the first place, in the process of trying to expand the category of relationships to which they're restricted -- and by doing so, they can leave out not only poly people but asexuals and single people."
Here's where this gets tricky. Let me just state here that I've never been part of a polyamorous relationship, so my views are relatively young and sheltered, and I am more than willing to listen to others' views and opinions to help enlighten myself on this topic.
When discussing the multi-partner relationships I had originally assumed there is a level of fidelity involved. I thought that, though there are more than two people in the relationship, sexual interactions would be pretty limited to the people in the relationship, somewhat like a group marriage. A group marriage has no main husband or wife with whom the others interact (polygamy), but rather everyone interacts equally(polyamory). I had imagined this scenario with love and lasting affection.
That is my ideal multi-partner relationship. A group marriage situation, where everyone is equal, individual, and safe. I feel like if I were in a relationship with two or three people and those individuals were having sex outside the relationship, I wouldn't be able to handle it. I would feel "cheated on" because that person is having sex outside the relationship we have established with however many people.
Is there a level of required fidelity in these types of situations? As of right now I don't know.
This is part of the reason why I'm reluctant to get into a marriage debate here. At what point can you give everyone equal rights to marriage without spreading the umbrella so far that people can cheat the government? Marriage is to bind. Marriage is to become family. Marriage is to show that you are the most important thing in each others' lives. So while I see a group marriage situation as one that definitely qualifies for the right to bind to each other, I'm not sure how like that example most polyamorous relationships are.
To be realistic, American mainstream society is more comfortable with gay monogamous relationships than they are of polygamy or polyamory. The Mormon sects who promote polygyny (which means one husband with multiple wives) have created a bad public image of having multi-partner relationships that fall under many catagories. To gain equal rights, I feel like gay marriage has to come first. It has to be a stable stepping stone before mainstream society will even think about the possibility of legalizing group marriage.
Expect more pros and cons as I mentally think this through, day after day.
To be continued...
"My impression is that the standard word for a three-person relationship is "triad."
I feel like the losing-ground-for-gay-marriage argument is a dangerous one. If there's a majority shift away from monogamous relationships, wouldn't that indicate a problem with prioritizing marriage, and therefore prioritizing the recognition of monogamous queer relationships over multipartner relationships? Monogamous gay politics often takes a worrying "us first" attitude towards polyamorous lifestyles, just as cis gay politics sometimes does toward trans folks.
The marriage debate in general tends to do this -- many of the rights associated with marriage are things that people in nonmonogamous relationships want and deserve, and even that single people want and deserve. People sometimes neglect the need to challenge why it makes sense to be restricting these rights to people in particular kinds of relationships in the first place, in the process of trying to expand the category of relationships to which they're restricted -- and by doing so, they can leave out not only poly people but asexuals and single people."
Here's where this gets tricky. Let me just state here that I've never been part of a polyamorous relationship, so my views are relatively young and sheltered, and I am more than willing to listen to others' views and opinions to help enlighten myself on this topic.
When discussing the multi-partner relationships I had originally assumed there is a level of fidelity involved. I thought that, though there are more than two people in the relationship, sexual interactions would be pretty limited to the people in the relationship, somewhat like a group marriage. A group marriage has no main husband or wife with whom the others interact (polygamy), but rather everyone interacts equally(polyamory). I had imagined this scenario with love and lasting affection.
That is my ideal multi-partner relationship. A group marriage situation, where everyone is equal, individual, and safe. I feel like if I were in a relationship with two or three people and those individuals were having sex outside the relationship, I wouldn't be able to handle it. I would feel "cheated on" because that person is having sex outside the relationship we have established with however many people.
Is there a level of required fidelity in these types of situations? As of right now I don't know.
This is part of the reason why I'm reluctant to get into a marriage debate here. At what point can you give everyone equal rights to marriage without spreading the umbrella so far that people can cheat the government? Marriage is to bind. Marriage is to become family. Marriage is to show that you are the most important thing in each others' lives. So while I see a group marriage situation as one that definitely qualifies for the right to bind to each other, I'm not sure how like that example most polyamorous relationships are.
To be realistic, American mainstream society is more comfortable with gay monogamous relationships than they are of polygamy or polyamory. The Mormon sects who promote polygyny (which means one husband with multiple wives) have created a bad public image of having multi-partner relationships that fall under many catagories. To gain equal rights, I feel like gay marriage has to come first. It has to be a stable stepping stone before mainstream society will even think about the possibility of legalizing group marriage.
Expect more pros and cons as I mentally think this through, day after day.
To be continued...
Jan 9, 2010
Derailed/Spectrum
It's been a while since I've really written about sexuality and gender theory. It seems that somewhere during the holidays I became very self involved and only wrote my personal issues, which was not how this blog was intended to be. Yes, it is about me, but it is about me exploring my sexuality and becoming more acquainted with the LGBTQ community and issues.
I'll admit I have been overwhelmed by the term "spectrum banging" (Yes, Mr. Sexsmith, I blame this piece of enlightenment on you). A few years ago, I had big boobs (which I emphasized all the time), long (blonde) hair, never left the house without mascara, equally loved jeans, blouses, and dresses. I liked to play dress up, and I loved to use my body to entice classmates into having dirty thoughts. I liked feeling sexy, liked feeling used (Read:CoDa).
Then, after I found out first:girl was not in fact falling madly in love with me as I was with her, I explored different ways of being. I started spectrum banging, which I'm just starting to figure out was a huge part of my underlying identity struggle. Since the me I was wasn't cutting it for first:girl, I did everything differently. I cut off all my hair, dyed it back to its natural brown, stopped wearing makeup, wore jeans and wifebeaters, never wore jewelry, and made myself as masculine as I could (without binding). That's when I started reading SugarButch, and found a piece of myself in his writing. That is when butch started feeling sexy. I found my love for femmes, and the deep traits of chivalry and respect. After reading for months, I then started to feel sexy and butch without needing the physical appearance, but it still just didn't fit. I think it was because I wasn't doing it for me. I was doing whatever I thought would get first:girl back. I tried this for so long. A year, maybe more? That didn't work either. She still didn't want me, and I was tired of trying so hard.
That's when my old habits started creeping back in. I still had short hair, but now I spent time on it, curled it, straightened it, wore a beret, whatever. I started wearing mascara every day, bought new skinny jeans and two pairs of converse to go with my shirts and tank tops.
During this blog, which has not been running for very long, you have seen me swing from one side of the spectrum to the other within days. I went from wondering if I was butch or femme, to wondering if maybe I should be ftm, to being full on femme for a week.
My hair has grown out to my shoulders now, I wear makeup when I know I'm leaving the house, and occasionally I'll wear a bra, or something that highlights my breasts. I'm not femme, but am definitely more on the feminine side of the spectrum. Do I still have butch days? Occasionally. Maybe more soft butch, or just butch in manner rather than appearance.
I can't say that I'm done spectrum banging, but I can say that I'm finally more comfortable in the middle, at least for a little while. For now I can be a homogeneous mix of the two ends. And wouldn't you know it, I feel a lot like I did before first:girl came along. I still can't tell if that's a good thing or a bad thing yet. Feeling like I did back then makes me uneasy. It makes me feel (and I'm embarrassed to admit it) less gay. Maybe when I started to change myself for first:girl, I also started to change myself to feel more gay, because (of course) being gay should feel different. That should be a load of crock, but it's ingrained in me to feel that way: that straight!me and gay!me should feel differently.
I'm still waiting for that unease to go away.
I'll admit I have been overwhelmed by the term "spectrum banging" (Yes, Mr. Sexsmith, I blame this piece of enlightenment on you). A few years ago, I had big boobs (which I emphasized all the time), long (blonde) hair, never left the house without mascara, equally loved jeans, blouses, and dresses. I liked to play dress up, and I loved to use my body to entice classmates into having dirty thoughts. I liked feeling sexy, liked feeling used (Read:CoDa).
Then, after I found out first:girl was not in fact falling madly in love with me as I was with her, I explored different ways of being. I started spectrum banging, which I'm just starting to figure out was a huge part of my underlying identity struggle. Since the me I was wasn't cutting it for first:girl, I did everything differently. I cut off all my hair, dyed it back to its natural brown, stopped wearing makeup, wore jeans and wifebeaters, never wore jewelry, and made myself as masculine as I could (without binding). That's when I started reading SugarButch, and found a piece of myself in his writing. That is when butch started feeling sexy. I found my love for femmes, and the deep traits of chivalry and respect. After reading for months, I then started to feel sexy and butch without needing the physical appearance, but it still just didn't fit. I think it was because I wasn't doing it for me. I was doing whatever I thought would get first:girl back. I tried this for so long. A year, maybe more? That didn't work either. She still didn't want me, and I was tired of trying so hard.
That's when my old habits started creeping back in. I still had short hair, but now I spent time on it, curled it, straightened it, wore a beret, whatever. I started wearing mascara every day, bought new skinny jeans and two pairs of converse to go with my shirts and tank tops.
During this blog, which has not been running for very long, you have seen me swing from one side of the spectrum to the other within days. I went from wondering if I was butch or femme, to wondering if maybe I should be ftm, to being full on femme for a week.
My hair has grown out to my shoulders now, I wear makeup when I know I'm leaving the house, and occasionally I'll wear a bra, or something that highlights my breasts. I'm not femme, but am definitely more on the feminine side of the spectrum. Do I still have butch days? Occasionally. Maybe more soft butch, or just butch in manner rather than appearance.
I can't say that I'm done spectrum banging, but I can say that I'm finally more comfortable in the middle, at least for a little while. For now I can be a homogeneous mix of the two ends. And wouldn't you know it, I feel a lot like I did before first:girl came along. I still can't tell if that's a good thing or a bad thing yet. Feeling like I did back then makes me uneasy. It makes me feel (and I'm embarrassed to admit it) less gay. Maybe when I started to change myself for first:girl, I also started to change myself to feel more gay, because (of course) being gay should feel different. That should be a load of crock, but it's ingrained in me to feel that way: that straight!me and gay!me should feel differently.
I'm still waiting for that unease to go away.
Dec 22, 2009
Ignoring/Holidays
So, every time I try to write about first:girl, I have a major block that won't allow me to write anything at all. Therefore, I just feel like I should not try to write about her for a while, until I can really get a handle on things.
I realized, through lesbo's comment, that I have never really talked about schooling before, which is kind of a big topic for me.
I am an alumni of a performing arts college, but have recently decided to give up that career path in favor of something else. I was never really a great singer/actor/dancer and I also rather enjoy watching other people perform instead of doing it myself.
That being said, I made the career switch to journalism. I would love to be a theater/art/dance/literature critic, as well as articles about society's positive/negative impact, gender studies, queer theory, etc. Anything I can write about, I want to write about. My major is Journalism, and I'm hoping to minor in gender studies or psychology. Or maybe something else I've never thought of! Let me know if you have a suggestion that I should look into!
In other news, the holidays are approaching quickly, and this is the first year that I've been single and aware that I'm a lesbian. I know that I don't do well with men. I don't trust them, I don't like to be sexual with them, and I don't really like to be in relationships with them.
However, I've had a few guys who were more than happy to chat me up and be suggestive with me this past week, and I have been so lonely that I honestly thought about making out with one of them. I haven't been physical with someone in so long that the thought of kissing anyone is somewhat appealing.
This, of course, has thrown me into a tizzy. Does it mean I'm not gay? Does it mean I'm bi, does it mean I'm straight, does it mean that relationships with men may now work out because I fantasized kissing one of them? Does it mean I still love girls but am lonely?Do I even care what label I am anymore? It won't make life any easier for me once I've found a label for myself. And who is really going to come up to me at a bar and ask me to identify myself before she'll chat with me?
I had this thought the other day that maybe I want to date girls because I was so in love with first:girl that I'm trying to find her clone. Then, of course, I remembered that I liked girls before she came along.
I think it's just hard to be lonely.
I realized, through lesbo's comment, that I have never really talked about schooling before, which is kind of a big topic for me.
I am an alumni of a performing arts college, but have recently decided to give up that career path in favor of something else. I was never really a great singer/actor/dancer and I also rather enjoy watching other people perform instead of doing it myself.
That being said, I made the career switch to journalism. I would love to be a theater/art/dance/literature critic, as well as articles about society's positive/negative impact, gender studies, queer theory, etc. Anything I can write about, I want to write about. My major is Journalism, and I'm hoping to minor in gender studies or psychology. Or maybe something else I've never thought of! Let me know if you have a suggestion that I should look into!
In other news, the holidays are approaching quickly, and this is the first year that I've been single and aware that I'm a lesbian. I know that I don't do well with men. I don't trust them, I don't like to be sexual with them, and I don't really like to be in relationships with them.
However, I've had a few guys who were more than happy to chat me up and be suggestive with me this past week, and I have been so lonely that I honestly thought about making out with one of them. I haven't been physical with someone in so long that the thought of kissing anyone is somewhat appealing.
This, of course, has thrown me into a tizzy. Does it mean I'm not gay? Does it mean I'm bi, does it mean I'm straight, does it mean that relationships with men may now work out because I fantasized kissing one of them? Does it mean I still love girls but am lonely?Do I even care what label I am anymore? It won't make life any easier for me once I've found a label for myself. And who is really going to come up to me at a bar and ask me to identify myself before she'll chat with me?
I had this thought the other day that maybe I want to date girls because I was so in love with first:girl that I'm trying to find her clone. Then, of course, I remembered that I liked girls before she came along.
I think it's just hard to be lonely.
Dec 5, 2009
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.
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.
Nov 30, 2009
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.
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