Feeds:
Posts
Comments

Posts Tagged ‘4 inch heels’

It’s been roughly 9 months since I began documenting this journey. Nearly as long as the gestational period of a human infant. Like some parents, I have rolled around in the mystery of it all, sat awe inspired and wide-eyed at the confusion and the complexity of human emotion and attraction, and revelled in MOST moments of the process. Also, like some parents, I have cursed the swollen ankles and figurative indigestion caused by the bloated impregnation of my changing life and, at times, cried over the process of peeling away the onion skin layers of my identity.

Wow, this post is starting heavy. Let’s take a quick sideline and say this. The two things I know, 9 months into this adventure, are this:

  1. Men are emotionally stunted and don’t know how to communicate. Granted, what they have to communicate is usually pretty straight forward and drama free…so, please, lay it out there guys.
  2. Women are bat-shit crazy. All of us. We may not seem it, but, at some point the change will happen and we will over-communicate the most complex range of emotions over something quite simple and drama free. Even the most chill, zen, mellow of us are prone to the whims of hormonal bat-shit craziness. I have said it before and here it is again…any creature that bleeds for 7 days straight, without dying, is NOT to be trusted, cause we must have some voodoo Santeria demon shit going on. Like Serpent and the Rainbow… dead, but alive, but fucking bat-shit.

Those are the two things I am sure of. That is it. The rest I find myself scratching my head over or doing tilted dog ears as I beat myself against the proverbial wall. In the end, I am not sure that I will have any great insights, not for you, the readers, and definitely not for myself. I may walk away with a new term; queer, not lesbian. I may walk away with a new wardrobe, as shopping has been an extension of this journey, expressing myself in new ways through fashion and embracing a more “straight” aesthetic that I hadn’t in my life as a lesbian. I was always femme, but I was a femme lesbian who occasionally wore lipstick and occasionally wore dresses and heels. Now, I am a stocking and garter wearing vixen with red stained lips and 4 inch heels at my disposal. I am kitty, here me roar. Fucking ROAR.

I would love to hear about your own journeys of self discovery. Chime in and share some.

Tuesday Posts are web-syndicated by www.thenewgay.net Check it out for a wide range of intelligent queer culture and opinions!

Read Full Post »

I know that I sometimes make it sound like I NEVER get laid. That isn’t entirely true. I get laid about once a week, UNLESS it is “THAT” week. What makes it seem so tragic for me is that I am seeing TWO men, so I am averaging every other week with each of them. Sex with Cooper Fiennes is ALWAYS hot. Sex with Type Geek has it’s surprising moments, however it had been taking a nose dive into boring routine married sex. Brushing teeth in the two bathrooms and doing our end of day grooming routines and then meeting in the bedroom. 99.9% of the time he was tucked in bed when I would join him a couple of minutes later. It made me feel like he was more inclined to go to bed than get busy. I guess he just isn’t a big initiator. I can be the initiator, but, I REALLY like when someone else takes charge.  Sigh. So, it’s been a sexually frustrating past month.

Last Monday I texted Cooper Fiennes asking if he would attend a Bastille Day soiree at a local bar/restaurant. The parties there are always quite fun and I thought it would be a great excuse to drink, flirt and dance. Do we really need excuses to do that?  Well, C.F. never responded to my request. It wasn’t vaguely put. I said, quite pointedly, that there was an event on Wednesday evening that I was attending, would he please be my date. I heard nothing Monday, nothing Tuesday. Tuesday evening I asked Type Geek to go with me. Now, Type Geek had been frustrating me because he kept canceling things and showing lack of interest. Or what I was feeling seemed like lack of interest. So, I left him a message stating that my feelings were getting hurt and I was growing more and more disappointed each time we made a plan and it was rain-checked or canceled. That I understood his job can be demanding, and that is more than acceptable, but that perhaps he needed to think out the validity of plans better BEFORE asking me to do something. After I said that, he suddenly became more affectionate and attentive. So, I gave him another chance and decided that I would see how things would turn out after the party, if he could attend. He eagerly said yes and we agreed to meet at the venue at 8 pm the next day.

The next day I had some training at my new job and had only a few hours to run home, deal with my pooch, and look fabulous. Since this wasn’t just any date night I wanted to look extra hot. I showered and did a quick, yet thorough, shave/wax combo and started to think about what I was going to wear. Inspiration hit when I found my charcoal colored tweed pencil skirt. Pencil skirt- check, white men’s button down- check, sheer black camisole and black bra and tanga panty-check, black garter belt with nude colored back seamed stockings-check check. Finished off with 4 inch vintage styled heels and hair up with red stained lips and dark eyes? Of course! Now, as I am running around getting ready, who calls me? None other than Cooper Fiennes. I didn’t answer it. I was annoyed. I did however check his voice mail. His message said that he knew we had plans tonight, but he didn’t know what was going on and that he really wanted to go for a jog, to let him know. I laughed out loud. I texted him back, still annoyed,” Go for your jog. We don’t have plans. I invited you and you didn’t respond therefore I made other plans. I don’t assume that we have plans just because I ask you to attend something with me. Have a good night. P.s. I look amazing, you should have responded.” A few minutes later I heard the text alert go off, ” YES! Next time I will respond. Have a great time tonight.” I think I am trying to distance myself a little, emotionally. That is for another post however.

At 8:15, because I am always late, I meet Type Geek outside the venue. If you have never worn a pencil skirt, let me tell you, maneuvering in/out of taxi cabs is difficult when the top half of your legs are bound so closely together. Type Geek smiled and obviously made a mental note of my outfit but refrained from saying anything. A half hour later, while at the downstairs bar, he finally told me how great I looked. I smirked and thanked him, then I let him in on the garter secret…by inching my skirt up a bit and running his hand along the top of the stocking. I know he has a stocking fetish, so this was done for his benefit. He didn’t shake his smile for the rest of the evening.

The event was fun, except for the obvious fail on their part to plan for the rain. They had anticipated French street fair style food carts outside with no food running from the kitchen. Unfortunately, it poured. My gluten issue left the single option of baguette sandwiches highly implausible, and after 2 strong cocktails, dinner was a necessity for both of us. We wandered out at 11 pm in search of something open in this godforsaken town. The reality of NOT living in NYC anymore means that dinner after 10 pm MOST nights is as impossible a find as is the holy grail. We did remember that there was a French Brassiere a few blocks away that served a late bar menu. Score! Beets and Frites and Croque Monsieur, Belgian beers and vodka cocktails, then a question, “So, do you want to go back to the party or should we go back to your place and get naked now?”  He quickly hailed a cab for his house.

Sex that night began in the kitchen and continued backing up through the hallway into his bedroom, shoes came off, pencil skirts pushed up, and suddenly we were behaving like people who are dating, not a married couple. The highlight of the evening… I got off. That doesn’t happen often. The plus for him? Besides my getting off? He got off twice in 5 minutes! Now, THAT is what I am talking about. Amazing how after a night of sex like that, you can sleep for only 3 hours but wake up incredibly refreshed.

Read Full Post »

%d bloggers like this: