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Posts Tagged ‘femme’

I recently was called vapid and self involved on the Facebook page for the queer site that syndicates me once a week.  They had posted a link to my most recent post and she made her statement in the comments below. I wanted to hold my breath and move on, however I decided to respond. I apologized that I wasn’t talking about the state of the economy, the never-ending war, the housing crisis, politics or the gmo foods we consume without concern. My blog is merely a trail map of my own personal journey.

Re-coming out was, in many ways, more difficult for me psychologically than coming out as Bi as a teen or realizing, in my early 20’s, that I was only attracted to women, subsequently then coming out as a lesbian. I don’t feel like I went back in. I never had issues being a lesbian. Perhaps because I am blessed to be a slim attractive feminine woman in a society that smiles upon that, I never suffered the injustices that some other lesbians have. I didn’t choose to love heels, makeup, long hair, and dresses… it would just be incredibly disingenuous for me to be anyone other than this. One winter I was going through a hard time and opted to go off the grid a bit so I delivered and stacked firewood for the owner of a small composting company. It was all cash under the table and incredibly hard work. A cord of wood is a LOT more than you think, when you have to carry it to a pile and stack it. Some days there were 4 or 5 jobs like this. My point is, my “work boots” had huge thick 2.5″ heels. I wore my hair in pigtail braids and put on mascara and lip gloss at the beginning of my day. It is who I am. I wasn’t a girly girl as a child, nor as a teen, but somewhere in my early 20’s things shifted and I began to find myself. 

My journey into self hasn’t been smooth. I have dealt with a lifetime of anxiety issues from growing up in a family of insanity. I had anger management issues in my teens and 20’s. I suffer from a mild case of body dysmorphia from childhood obesity. Fleeting depression, chronic disorganization resulting in my often sabotaging projects, jobs or relationships, and the myriad of insecurities that just come with being an emotional human being. Sounds awful, doesn’t it? It isn’t though. I’m thankful for being the glorious mess I have been, because it has allowed me to better know myself, to be stronger, to try harder, to find determination in unforseen circumstances, and to run blindly into experience, reminding myself to breathe often, to stop long enough to feel what it is I am experiencing, to remember that I am blessed for having experienced it. The good and the bad. The bad sucks, indeed, but that bad makes the good so glorious. The bad makes me appreciate the 3 hours spent on Type Geeks lap watching South Park and Mad Men, drinking port. The bad makes me appreciate the smell of my dogs paws (it really is a mix of all the grossness that they step in that makes them smell like popcorn, isn’t it?! eww). The bad makes me appreciate the sensation of a piece of smoked sea salt dissolving on my tongue, the aroma of roasted brussel sprouts with truffle oil, a long hot shower and friends that make you laugh til it pains you and then you laugh more, because you just can’t stop.

So, into all of our lives things bad things happen. Some of us are in foreclosure, some are facing homelessness, or are homeless, some are sick, and some will get better, some feel all alone even when surrounded by a room full of “friends and family”. This is life.  However, remember that life is also the wag of a dog’s tail, the glint in a 2 year old’s eye from across a bus or subway train, the way the chocolate feels as it melts in your mouth, the sound of autumn leaves under foot and .. one of my personal favorites, when the temperatures drop so drastically during a snow shower that the top layer is frozen crisp, as if the world is a giant creme brulee. I block out the world and I crunch crunch crunch down the street, through the grass, while cracking the higher crust with my fingers. I love it. I do.

Find the small things you love and be thankful for them. They make the big things, which you don’t love, diminish in size. Happy Thanksgiving.

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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!

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Last Tuesday night was a fun night with Type Geek. Being with him is always this great mix of sweetness and naughtiness. I never feel like I need to play a charade or be something I am not with these two boys I am seeing right now. I have tried to step it up with the dresses a bit and play up the girly factor a little bit more, since they both seem to really enjoy that, but it isn’t something that comes unnaturally. I was always a very femme girl. The time and effort are what stopped my sometimes, not the dress and the cute shoes. So, as I was saying, it’s nice to wake up next to someone and be able to just be yourself.

I was wondering how this was going to work, now that Type Geek and Cooper Fiennes are back in the same city, hell, the same neighborhood. So far, it’s interested. This past weekend was the first experiment in how this will work. I have this weird thing in my mind, If I am going to see the two boys on back to back nights, I need to see Type Geek and then Cooper Fiennes the next. I would be embarrassed to say this, to admit it to some people, BUT, this is anonymous and only a very few of you know my real identity…so what the hell. I feel like it’s unfair to have sex with the well endowed energizer bunny the night before the average guy. Average is NOT bad, but I get a different, more primal, being fucked kind of feeling from my Spaniard. There are times, and certain positions, that are almost painful. Not quite painful, but almost. Type Geek is wonderful, but I don’t get that feeling from him. I really enjoy sex with both of them, but there is something about fucking a man with a perfectly toned body, a large cock and a great sense of humor, that sometimes trumps the guaranteed orgasm the other can give you.  Cooper Fiennes is a piece of fruit with an expiration date, and I want to savor it while I have it. Type Geek lives here, is a permanent resident, has relationship potential, if I decide I want a relationship with a man again.

So, I was hoping to see Type Geek on Thursday or Friday, with Cooper Fiennes following up on Friday or Saturday. Plans with Type Geek kept getting turned around, post-poned and canceled due to work and family emergencies. I understand and truthfully, I am not bothered by it. I feel badly for some of the drama he is digging through at the moment. It’s hard to come back from vacation and step right back into chaos. So, then I tried to make a date with Cooper Fiennes. We had lunch later in the week, Thursday. That was nice, but not naked. Friday night he was exhausted. He ran 7 miles, played soccer and had gone rowing for 2 hours. He was done by 10 pm and hoping to be in bed by 11. We had a big gay brunch to go to on Saturday morning. June is always gay pride month, as many of us are aware, and I was invited to a brunch by a couple I know. Cooper Fiennes and I went, stood in the rain and watched some big gay festivities, I came out to my former neighbor as a recently reformed cock lover (which elicited an interesting response that I will touch base on in my next post), and then my dog and I walked C.F. across town to a bar for the World Cup games. I then headed home and had fingers crossed that I was seeing my Type Geek that night.

As the hours stretched by, it seemed likely I would be stuck at home alone for the night. T.G. had family stuff that needed to be dealt with and C.F. was being less than responsive to my texts wondering what he was up to after he was done hanging with his work friends. his work friends do NOT know the true nature of our relationship. I think some have an idea BUT it is a little complicated. Prior to meeting me, he had a very brief fling with one of their fellow colleagues. C.F. is married, but with no hope of reconciliation. His wife wanted something different and she told him so and moved on. he can’t finalize the divorce until he goes back to Spain. His colleague was cheating on her husband to be with him. Because of this, and how attached she was for their situations, C.F. ended it. She has been a bit passive aggressive ever since. Also, he is semi private about his divorce. While they know he isn’t living with her anymore and that I seem to show up at weird places and weird times, nothing has been said. Eventually, I’m taking a bath at 9 pm. It will prove to either be for a quick shave so I can molest C.F. or a pre bed soak. Midway through my bath, C.F. says he will meet up. Yay, sex !!

We met on the train platform, I stuck the fishnets back on, with my boots, a hot little silky black dress I hadn’t worn yet and minimal eye makeup. I knew the makeup wasn’t what he would be looking at. As we sat next to each other on the train, I slid his hand under the edge of the dress so he could feel that I had on garters. Happy boy. We picked up some ice and made it back to his house in record time. As I made us a couple of cocktails, he tried to distract me. We started on the kitchen counter and then he picked me up and moved me to the bed. Damn, it’s really hot to be physically picked up and moved around by someone like that. Again, stockings stayed on, sex rocked and we actually finished before dawn. We then finished our drinks and had a really great conversation about us and his marriage and our philosophies on life and dating and sex, etc. Next thing I know, we are having sex again. He is exhausted, I’m sore, and we really just need to sleep cause the birds are singing and he has to meet his colleagues to support a team event they are participating in. We look at each other and just pull up the blankets and stop. Then the phone rings. The event is starting early, in a half hour to be precise. I was planning on heading home, grabbing the dog and meeting back up, as if we hadn’t been in bed with eachother all night. That was not going to happen however. He jumped in the shower, I just threw on my non naughty clothes I brought to change into and we ran over to the event site.

Within a half hour, his colleagues all noticed I was there, and it was early and hmmm. One woman made comments. We think she knows. She kept saying things to illicit responses from either of us, specifically me and I would play deaf, ignorant or just laugh and change the topic whenever she said a word. I’m curious how this will all play out for him now that the week has started back up. Meanwhile, I held out mini hopes that maybe I could hang out with Type Geek on Sunday evening, but his brother is just too ill and needed him there for the night. The brother is being brought back to the hospital today. Hopefully they find an answer to his months of problems and I get my boy back soon.

Now, it’s the beginning of the week. I am going to try to avoid chatting up my Spaniard and try to get some errands taken care of. I want him to contact me next time he wants sex or company. I shouldn’t be doing the chasing all the time. He needs to work for it a bit, I have been too easy for him.

Tuesday Posts are web-syndicated by www.thenewgay.net For more intelligent queer commentary… check them out!

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