I’ve been wanting to write this post for a while, for months, really, and then when G posted about it recently it was just the shove I needed to actually sit down and write it.

There are so many layers of femme (in)visibility to me. There’s how we’re seen (or not) by straight people, by society at large. There’s how we’re seen (or not) by fellow queers. There’s how we’re seen by fellow dykes. And how we’re seen by each other. And of course, there’s how we see ourselves. And in all of this, there’s the personal, and there’s the political.

But I don’t really know how to write about it except in terms of my own experience. And of course, my experience isn’t representative of anything except itself. But I think there are probably parallels and similarities to and “mmhmm”s and head nods from other femme-identified folks out there.

It starts with not being able to see myself. That must be at the very root of it. As a little girl, I loved to play house, and I always wanted to be the mom. I loved to play school and wanted to be the teacher. I loved tea parties and dollhouses and dresses and patent leather shoes, I loved American Girl dolls and dress-up and imagining my future wedding. I was obsessed with Queen Elizabeth II as a little girl (I had a book about her written by her nanny) and with figure skaters and ballerinas. I fit snugly into my gender box. No questions asked.

Come junior high, I decided to start having crushes on the boys in my classes. Each year on the first day of school, I would scan homeroom for that year’s candidates. I carefully weighed my options, and within 20 minutes or so had selected the object of my external focus for the year. Seventh grade: Dillon. Eighth grade: Ryan. Ninth grade: Jason. In tenth grade I started dating, but never really cared much for the guys. In fact I think I was somewhat scared of them. Touching them, kissing them, doing stuff with them made me feel weird and nervous.

I’m not going to go over my whole coming out story here, but suffice it to say it took me quite a long time to come out to myself. I started questioning that year, tenth grade. I had a friend who I was in love with, but I couldn’t quite believe it. There was no way I was gay. It just didn’t make sense. I was a girl. I was supposed to like boys. That was that.

Understanding of sexuality is so, so so tied up with gender. That’s really what makes femmes so invisible. To ourselves as well as to others. There often aren’t any outward signs that we digress from the norm. They’re all inward. And society tells us (all of us, not just femmes) all the time that the inward things? Are figments of our imagination. Depression, addiction, anxiety, sexual orientation — it’s fabricated, it’s (no pun intended) just in our minds. You can’t get an MRI that says “whoops, there’s some depression in there, we’ll have to medicate you” or a pap smear that tells you “yep, yer gay alright, no two ways about it.” So unless you look different, unless there’s some physical proof of it (whatever it is), there’s plenty of room for people to doubt you. And judge you. And feel justified in doubting and judging. Because all that stuff? It’s in your mind. So I can tell you you’re wrong.

That’s what I, as a femme, was up against. Convincing myself that, actually, no, I’m right. That gut feeling that made me ask my mom, as an 11-year-old, whether it was normal to like other girls? That was right. Even though I liked ruffles and paper dolls and the Sound of Music. It took me so. long. to learn how to trust that feeling. I guess I’m still learning, really. In my first years after coming out for good, I went through all kinds of identity shifts, trying to settle on the self-expression that felt right for me. I just didn’t think it could be that I was both totally feminine and gay. I thought I was just fooling myself that I was gay. To be honest, I sometimes still do have those moments of doubt. “How is it possible that I’m gay?“

And, dude, I’m gay. I fuckin’ love pussy. The best compliment from mi’lady is when she looks at me in wonder, after a good fuck, and says, “you’re so gay.”

In fact, I think that’s probably the best compliment from anyone. Even people who mean it as an insult. To be recognized as gay makes me puff out my chest and stand up straighter. Really. I just want to belong here. I want people to know that I’m a member of the club. Sometimes, I do get some sort of signal, a wink maybe, and I just about die, every time. Especially when it’s the older, butch lesbians, in their late 30s and 40s. A wink from them is so gratifying. Not transgressive, not presumptuous, not inappropriate. Affirming.

I’ve spent up enough time and energy proving myself to myself, you know? I don’t have much leftover to try to prove anything to anyone else. So I don’t try, not much anyway. And for the most part, I don’t let the invisibility get to me. But those moments of visibility are all the more precious because of it.

Reading the comments to my previous post helped me clarify my thoughts about this femme fantasy. So I thought I’d do it “out loud” here, too.

I don’t think the fantasy I described of being perfectly domestic, perfectly sexy, perfectly exactly for my lover is the only way I conceive of myself as a femme. I certainly have my own goals and ambitions and social life and tastes and enjoyments, and I certainly want to keep nurturing those and developing myself as a person. (As greg said in the comments, I absolutely need those days of knotting the hair back, donning the cracked boots and jumping in the jeep. Well, I don’t have long hair or a jeep, but that’s the general idea!) Writing here is one of the ways I do that; doing the rape counseling work is another; keeping in touch with my friends, applying for graduate school, playing piano, doing yoga… all of that is stuff I do to continually round myself out and build myself up. And it’s absolutely necessary for me to keep doing that, always. Always.

But the fantasy is there, and I want to explore it. Until now, I’ve been angrily pushing it away, thinking “no! that’s co-dependency! get out!” For example: I feel like baking. What do I bake? Into my head pops the thought: “mi’lady’s favorite is strawberry rhubarb pie…” and I get all warm and tingly and excited at the thought of surprising her with a warm homemade pie when I see her in the evening. But before I get too excited, I cut myself off. “Why do you always want to do what she likes? You don’t even like pie! Bake something you like!” And so I’ll probably end up compromising, I’ll bake something I know she’ll like but that I like too, and I make sure to bake it not with her specifically in mind. So when I see her, it’s “look! I baked cookies today! Have one, they’re yummy!” rather than “look! I baked your favorite pie today, just for you!”

It sounds so selfish. But I guess I’ve thought it to be necessary, as a way of coaching myself to pay attention to my own wants and needs, rather than always catering to other people’s. I think it has a lot to do with vulnerability for me, too. I get angry with myself for giving too much of myself away to someone else. I get afraid that the more I give away, the more I’m allowing her to hurt me. I’m giving her power. And maybe I’ve thought of it too as a zero-sum game — that if I give her the power to hurt me, I’m somehow lessening my own power to heal from hurt.

So, to continue with the previous example, when I bake mi’lady’s favorite pie, just because I know she likes it, I’m making myself vulnerable to her by doing something for her. It’s saying, “you matter so much to me that I’m going to bake you your favorite pie, just because.” And what if it’s not reciprocated? What if she doesn’t like it? Or doesn’t really notice? Or just says, “oh thanks baby, that’s so sweet” absent-mindedly. Clearly if I spend my afternoon baking her favorite kind of pie, then my afternoon was about her. But what if her afternoon wasn’t even remotely about me? What if I think about her more often than she thinks about me? What if what if what if. So stopping myself from baking that pie is a way of holding back, keeping things level.

And that’s what it is, it’s holding back. Because really? I want to bake that pie. I guess I have to throw those what-ifs to the wind. Because she does matter to me that much. And I want her to know it. I want her to feel it. That’s not co-dependent. That’s so far from c0-dependent. What it is is trust.

Love is not a zero-sum game. I need to practice believing that in how I go about loving. There’s plenty to go around. There’s enough for us both. And the main thing I am now slowly coming to realize is, if I do something for her, I’m not necessarily losing myself, or giving myself away. I could be, for sure, depending on the context. But I could also actually just be reaffirming myself. So the next step I guess? Working all of this into my relationship with mi’lady in a way that feels right. Stay tuned, this could be a wild ride.

(Updated to remove weird duping of the post? It doesn’t appear in my editor but I tried to just delete all and re-paste so we’ll see if that works…)

I’ve been learning, lately, how to pay more attention to the little voices in my head. The ones that say “yay!” or “boo!” to all the little things I do. The ones that have the answer to questions like, “do I really love playing piano, or do I just think I love it because I was supposed to love it growing up? because my dad wants me to love it?” or “do I feel like myself when I wear this [insert item of clothing here]?” These voices have been buried in me for a long, long time. Digging them out has been quite an interesting process, and I think they’re still mostly buried, but at least now I know they’re there. And whenever I feel up to it, I can keep digging a bit more, and eventually I’ll have unearthed them all.

There’s something that’s been peeking out of the ground for a while now, and I’ve finally dug it up. It’s a fantasy, and it goes like this:

I am a nurturer. More than anything, I want to take care of you. I want to support you and give you what you want and be your pillar. I want to stand next to you proudly, “I’m hers.” I want to cook for you, and bake your favorite sweets for you, and clean. I want to notice the little things that make you feel better, and do them for you. I want you to dress me, in whatever you want me to wear. I want to be manicured, and pedicured, and wax my arms and legs, and spend a half an hour every morning and evening on my skincare regimen. I want to wear four-inch heels with peeping toes. I want to iron your shirts and make your bed and stroke your head until you fall asleep. I want to plan little surprises and encourage your passions and turn you on. Making you tick is what makes me tick. So.

As I said, that’s been peeking out of the ground for a while. I kept ignoring it, thinking it’s just another indicator of my co-dependency. My tendency is to want to exist for someone else rather than for myself. And I’ve always thought that that’s because it’s easier to take care of someone else’s wants and needs than it is to take care of my own. (The responsibility of making myself happy? Huge.) So it’s been really easy to write off that fantasy as something unhealthy and something I need to dismiss, something I need to work out. I’ve thought of it as the problem.

But maybe the problem itself is the very solution. Maybe it’s not co-dependency, but in fact a valid form of self-identity. Can this be? I have a lot of feelings about this. Frustration – have I really been working so hard to discover what I really want, only to realize that what I want is, again, just to do what someone else wants? Fear — what does this mean? Will I lose myself even further? Confusion — but I thought I was ambitious and driven and independent! Worry — how on earth will my friends and family take it if I come out to them this way? Excitement — wow! So much to work (and play) with here! Weeee! Intrigue – what would this feel like, to actualize this? what worlds might this open up for me?

So, I think I’m going to try this on for a while. See if it fits as well as it does in my fantasy. I need to keep reminding myself, though, that I’m doing this for me. In the end, I’m not really doing this to sacrifice myself for her. Rather, I’m allowing myself to indulge a fantasy. I’m going for a dream.

Maybe I don’t need to find co-dependency support. Maybe I need to find femme support. How about a Femme for Dummies: How to Make Sure You’re Taking Care of Yourself While Caring for Your Lover (and Others).

Anyone out there? Femme bloggers who’ve written about this sort of journey? Any femmes who read here who want to pop out and say hi? Maybe there is a Femme for Dummies that I just don’t know about? Oh my gosh, I feel so thirsty. Is this what it feels like to know what I want?

(Disclaimer: For me, the word that works best to encompass all this is “femme.” I fully realize that many, if not most, femmes probably don’t share this same fantasy and wouldn’t necessarily identify this fantasy as being femme in nature. For now, just realize that yes, I acknowledge that, and I apologize if anyone feels that their identity is stepped on. As this is all coming to light I’m sure I will write more about this in the near future, because boy do I have thoughts…) 

By popular demand I have decided to dish the dirt on my summer. I have been home for a month now and I am almost able to reminisce without crying and wishing I could do it all over again.

Over the summer I took a road trip around the states. The route we ended up taking was from Atlanta GA, to Texas, to LA then Vegas and back down to Atlanta. We then went up to New York and back to Atlanta before coming back home. A staggering drive clocking up 7000miles on our carbon footprint (minus flights).

Summer in the States

 The 30something weeks that we spent planning the trip felt like a lifetime and in hindsight was a total waste of time… but on the bright-side this was our first lesson learned – no point in making plans… they never work out anyway.

 Who’s Who:  

• Narelle (Me)
• Jade, my cousin who lived stateside for 12years
• Lisa and Danielle… two of my three best friends (Jenna couldn’t make it this time)

  Jade flew to Atlanta, Georgia a week before Lisa and I to spend some time with her family before our trip.

 Lisa’s mum picked me up two and a half hours before our flight and headed to Glasgow Airport. On our way she announced to us that for flights stateside you had to check in three (not two) hours before departure… great just what we wanted to hear.

 In the car… half thinking we weren’t going to get to go we made a back up plan… fly to Ibiza and stay there for the summer if they won’t let us in to the states.

 When we got to the airport the panic over was over – they are allowing us to fly despite previous concerns.

jetting of to the states

 We got on our first flight to Philadelphia (the home of the steak sanny and Rocky) and we are not sitting together. The old couple in-between us only had to swap one seat (they would still be sitting together) in order to allow us to sit beside each other – but they refused. So we WARNED them if you don’t swap we will be shouting over you the whole flight and passing things back and forward… and that is exactly what they did. And at the same time hopefully taught a couple of old buddies a lesson. Lol… why must they be so stubborn?

When we got to Philadelphia and I was gutted that we didn’t get to see Rocky Balboa or at least have time to run up the stairs… oh well maybe next time. At Phili we were clearly the only tourists… the only people with passports in an airport – nuts! From Phili we flew to Atlanta Georgia, aka THE SWEATBOX.

 Atlanta

 Atlanta Hartsfeild Jackson Airport is the busiest in the world and is like the crystal maze… as Lisa and I have absolutely no sense of direction and were sweating the bit out we decided it best to follow a guy we recognised from our flight.

 Due to the sheer size of the place we had to get on a train inside the airport to get our luggage… which isn’t the easiest thing to do in 100degree weather and whilst trying to stalk some (in the beginning) unsuspecting traveller.

 Following the guy was the start of the hilarity. The train kept stopping and he got off to let someone else off… we followed. Then he got back on… we followed – not obvious at all. Then the train stops and he gets off… this time for good and we follow him. He starts walking faster, so do we and he keeps looking back – with a look of terror on his face. He clearly knew we were following him, but surely he could figure out why – we only wanted to get our luggage… with his reaction you would think we wanted to jump his bones.

 I mean I understand we were not quite looking our best with the 24hours of travelling and sweating the bit out in the most humid place in the world but come on boy!

 My LITTLE cousin Mark came to get us at the airport… whilst collecting our luggage we were trying to resist the urge to shout bomb in the airport: apparently they don’t take kindly to that stateside. People in Atlanta drive like head cases: our first week there flew in.

 Our first night out didn’t quite go as planned… jet lag meant that I was steaming after about three drinks – Lisa and I were also five hours ahead, not only in time but the amount of time it takes the Southerners to get a sentence out: it can prove to be rather time consuming.

Anyway we went downtown Atlanta to go to a club, Opera I think, with Bridgette (US G BFF) and Brandy (Drama Queen). It was like being out with the paparazzi – the American girls sure like taking pics. Brig was driving and trying to find where we were going was so funny. We were so drunk and bursting we had to stop and pee behind a petrol station… all of us. Lol. Eventually found the club, I went in first but Lisa was 20 at the time and apparently you need to be 21 stateside. Lisa’s argument at the door was repeatedly… ‘but I’m 20’ – doesn’t matter Stella, that’s like arguing you are 17 trying to get in to a club in the UK.

Lisa, Jade and Brig on our first night out in Atlanta

 As the girls wouldn’t be too happy if I went without them I came back out. In the car park we asked a girl where else we could go… mid conversation we see a tear tat on her face… hmm why does that look familiar and what does it mean? We later found out that it apparently means that you have killed someone… okay lucky we didn’t take her advice as to where to go.

Jade & I on our first night in Atl

 We ended up in a dingy bar on our first night called the Highland Grill (I think)… however the night was by no means a total loss. At the bar we met Jade’s ex and his friends.

 Jade’s ex (Jordan G aka Napoleon Dynamite: to be named and shamed) will come in to our trip later but on this night was actually really funny. He was eating some weird shit and kept saying ‘Jesus’ whilst trying to understand our jokes. But he was by no means the highlight… also got to meet his friend Aaron (aka Dennis).

 So… Jade kept trying to tell jokes (Jade is the worst joke teller that side of the Campsies, which is some distance lol) to try to distract me I think. But I could not be fooled. Every single guy we met or even whose name came in to conversation Jade had went with. Lol. Word on the street is that it’s why she actually had to move back to Scotland – because she had went with every guy in the state of Georgia.

 The drink police were out that night… I got a drink at the bar – Lisa had a sip of it and they were all over her like the chicken pox. The drink thing was one of the big things for Lisa to get used to stateside… having been going out drinking since we were 15… being 20 and being told she couldn’t drink did not go down well.

 Luckily for us they couldn’t understand a word of the sheer cheek she gave them. Lol.

 That night came to a close… we all went back to Jade’s to stay and heard all Brandy’s gossip… man the American girls can be dramatic. Lol.

 Our first week in Atlanta ended up being one house party after another courtesy of Bridgette – the Queen of finding parties (thanks babe).  At one of the parties I learned to play my first game of ‘Beer Pong’ (An American drinking game which was at the centre of every house party we went to… sucked for me as I was crap at it, lol.

 At that same party (I think Cody’s party) Lisa and I gave a stand up comedy show… apparently they don’t tell jokes stateside – so they loved us. Lol. That night Lisa and I also went on a double date to – wait for it…. Waffle House! – class was just oozing out of us the whole time we were there. Oh we were also told that we were the best people that they had ever met… and soaked it in like a sponge. Lol.

Lisa & I double dating at Waffle House

 We also had pant party that night at Bridgett’s where we spent the night… Brig won sexiest.. although I think mine were cutest – unfortunately Jade destroyed all pics of it so my word will need to do. And got to see the crazy side of Brig at that party. She lost her phone and freaked out… starting going through people’s bags and told a girl she was going to kick her friends ass! Crazy Americans… why don’t you just look for it? Lol. Staying at Bridgett’s we wound up having to sleep in her brother’s jiz ridden bed… where Lisa thinks she could have gotten pregnant. Lol.

 The heat in Georgia isn’t the same as the heat here or on holiday… it is so humid and makes you feel like you can’t really get a breath. Due to this breathlessness feeling I am pretty sure it made me boy crazy – that’s my excuse and I am sticking to it. Lol.

 So… went to Brig’s Gran’s pool the next evening to try to cool down and put ended up getting up to no good. Bit of boozing, smoking and skinny-dipping resulted in us putting on a talent contest… whereby we performed our rendition of ‘The Cheeky Girls’ – needless to say we hit it out of the park. Lol. Also played the ‘n game’ that night… don’t try it – it will drive you crazy… I’m still thinking of ‘n’ things to this day. We also got ripped off that night… that’s all I can really say about that – but I developed my first US hatred… damn that boy (well my second if you count Bush) lol.

 Another of our Atlanta parties was an all day shout. There was a pool party during the day… whereby I ended up steaming. Before going we went to get drink and spent $100plus on booze – we said at the time… of this runs out then we are clearly alcoholics and need some help – it ran out: didn’t get help just had to get more booze.

 During the day of our drinking sesh we had the pleasure of Aaron’s company along with his slightly odd friend Jordan K. Brig warned us before hand that he doesn’t talk much and that he likes football (not American but real football or soccer as they like to put it). So I spent around an hour burning his ear… at least I managed to entertain myself… won’t talk me to Jordan – that’s fine – doesn’t meant I won’t talk to you!

 There was a pool Nazi there though… my 2^nd US feeling of hate and where I got my only regret of the entire trip! If I could turn back time I would go back and push her in the pool. It did cross my mind at the time but I didn’t have the balls. Damn it.

 Aaron… who despite talking ridiculously slow was quite entertaining and good to look at, lol.

What I meant by Aaron being nice to look at

 We wound up at Brig’s Gran’s house for the party that night… which is also Jordan G’s house, Jade’s ex and Napoleon look alike. It was a rather scary house… which an actual deer head mounted on the wall and a death step which I fell victim to after a few more bevies. Specifically strawberry daiquiris which we made extremely strong as I didn’t Lisa had already put the vodka in… so we ended up with a double dose. Lisa also had a mini drama in trying to find a blender which she was not happy about… what kind of place has an actual nut cracker but no blender? Lol.

Lisa and the Deer head

 At this party Aaron helped me break in to a room to see Brig do it. He took Lisa and I where the crazy ass dogs were and I feared for my life in order to see her in bed. Anyone who would help me break in to a bedroom to watch someone do it is more than okay in my book. Lol.The other events of that evening which kept me entertained included a game of beer pong (which I didn’t win), a diabetic guy getting really angry and storming off claiming he is not coming back… but then was like “Fuck… I’m only back for my insulin!” lol. Ha! Jade taking a dump and broadcasting it and Lisa getting a KB. Lol. As well as seeing Jade naked.

 That night a certain someone in the aftermath was an asshole… but he later gets what is coming to him. He was also a bit of a douche to Lisa… and it takes a lot to upset my gal but he managed to. SHAME ON YOU! But to be fair… when I fell up the death step we did help me and get me a replacement drink after soaking myself.

Whilst in GA we also went to Athens (the college town) to see Emily and co. and we had a blast. We went to a party and I won my first game of beer pong… wuhu!

Brig getting up to no good

 Although I loved this party everyone else hated it and we had to leave … but I had a great time despite the guys being a tad sleazy. But then we got to go hag with Emily’s boyfriend and friends… they were such fun and we loved them!

 They were the only ‘American boys’ who kissed us hello… apparently the Americans don’t do that. I actually didn’t realise I did it so much until I kept going in for a kiss and not getting anything back. Lol. Brig was hilarious in Athens… and a bit of a hoe!… wuhu – go Brig taking one for the team! Oh I also loved the guy who made me breakfast… those were some great eggs – thanks Miami boys! And thanks Emily… we had a great time.

Athens

 We were staying at Jade’s in Atlanta and whilst there we witnessed the most ridiculous argument I have ever heard in my life. To understand you will first need to envision a two year girl who has been spoiled rotten and is acting like a total brat. Now envision that little brat in the body of a 40plus, 6ft tall man – you have just met Jade’s dad. When Jade was living stateside she had an American accent, since coming home she has gotten back her Scottish accent, which to most people makes sense.

 Not to Jade’s crazy assed Dad. He actually believes that Jade was putting on her Scottish accent just to annoy him because ‘everyone in Scotland hates him’; hmm wonder why? He actually thinks that the whole world revolves around him.

 But Jade’s dad wasn’t the only person who was hard work… her uncle also was less than pleasant. To be fair to him he sorted out our car that we took on out road trip… which would have been helpful – hadn’t the car been a heap of shit. Lol. But it was the ‘Shaggin Waggin’ and we had some great times in it… as well as some near death experiences. Lol.

In Atlanta it was great getting to know Mark and Megan again… love you guys, thanks for keeping me entertained and being so good to me. But I think this is where I started to put on my weight via my aunt Catherine’s cooking… which is by far the best cooking ever.

mosquitoes love me

My only real problem in Atlanta was that the mosquitoes absolutely love me! I had at one point 30 bites on my body! I used bucket loads of repellent and tried to stay inside at key mosquito times but they got me regardless. Lisa and Jade’s bathroom habits, announcements and photo taking also gave me the boke! We also got some shopping done in Atlanta which was fun… especially our remake of American girl style in Macys.

Dress up in Macys

 As Lisa is a dumbass she had to cut her part of our trip short and had to leave Atlanta after one week due to a failed placement. So for Lisa’s last night Jade, Lisa, Brig and I went out for dinner and drinks and wound up dining with the first of the several potential serial killers we met whilst stateside. He comes up and said that he is waiting on his friend and asked if he could wait with us… we stupidly said yes – although he did provide some entertainment. It turned out that he had been stood up as his girl friend who in his words was ‘out fucking someone else’. Then his fat friend shows up and starts rapping. Yes you read right actual real rapping… both a variety of popular rap music and material he had written on his own (no joke). Keep in mind this was in a restaurant. One of the strangest things I have ever experienced.

 Taking Lisa to the airport was sad for me… she is my BFF and I love her like fat kids love cake… Bye Stella and hello road trip!

On the road

 Texas

On our three day drive to LA, our first stop was Dallas, Texas – and we loved it! On Aaron’s instruction we were giving the Longhorn sign to pretty much everyone, lol, and mostly got a good response. Dallas was fun and the Texan boys were sweethearts but despite what they say not everything is bigger in Texas… ask Jade – she did the leg work. Lol.

 Our second days drive and lone behold we are still in Texas – do not underestimate the sheer size of the place as you will be in it for what feels like a lifetime. Heading in to the desert and our air con breaks… it was 100plus degrees and we were in the middle of no where. It was so hot I had to strip down to my pants and try to think cool thoughts.

Whilst I’m lying in my pants with no AC Jade is ripping the arse out of the Shaggin Waggin and a funny noise starts… I said to her about it and she blames the texture of the road. Then all of a sudden a massive bang and black smoke was coming from the back of the car… we pulled over and our back tyre was no longer on the car… it was ripped to shreds and lying all over the interstate – Shit.

 So we get the spare out the boot and its one of those ‘only for temporary use’ tyres… Jade made me put my dress back on – although I think the lack of it would have helped our hitchhiking. After getting all the tyre change stuff out when then discover than neither of us know how to change a tyre.

Time to flag a car for some help… however as I said we were in the desert and there were not many passers by. But help as we discovered is like buses… none for ages then three guys stop to help at the same time. And they were the ideal people who you want to stop and help… they were strong, sweet and so sexy – kind of rough looking (and here is the heat making me boy crazy again). The boys put the temp tyre on directed us to where we could get a new one put on (Big Springs).

 Big Spring is like a place out of a movie… where they all know each other by name – and where we experienced one of many ‘dumb American’ moments.

 Whilst waiting on our tyre being changed… we went to Walmart as I needed a UK to US travel adapter. I asked the shop assistant where it was and she literally pointed in two different directions and said “over there”… oh I’m sorry where? Again pointing in different directions “over there” – okay you are clearly a fruit cake.

 Then we went to pizza hut for a bite to eat and I asked for a cheese pizza… I was told “we don’t do that”… the women clearly either didn’t understand what I was saying or just wasn’t listening as I said it again and again I was told that in Pizza Hut they don’t do a cheese pizza – another ‘dumb American’ moment.

 Back on the road and as Texas is the size of the UK we spent another night there… this time in El Paso. In Texas is where we got ghetto and had to motel it up! – Beggars can’t be choosers: so we were Super 8 right out our tats!

 Driving to El Paso we kept seeing signs that read:

 “WARNING PRISON AREA DO NOT PICK UP HITCHHIKERS”

 Which as you can imagine is just what we want to see in the middle of the desert late at night in our dodgy Shaggin Waggin.

 El Paso, Texas, was a little like a third world country. We were on interstate 10 West and you go right down to the Mexican border. We didn’t go out in El Paso… although we are Glasgow Girls even that was a little rough for us. Lol.

 But that night Jade and I were in bed (Jade likes to share a bed with me… despite there being two double beds there – lezzy bitch. Lol.) and I wake up startled because I felt a nip on my neck… initially I thought it may have been Jade trying to give me a nookie… but it wasn’t. I went to the bathroom and had three large bumps on the back of my neck… they looked like more mosquito bites but they were really painful and hard.

spider bite !

We went to the chemist and met more dumb Americans. The pharmacist advised that it looks like a spider bite but that he doesn’t know which kind of spider… and that some spider bites could kill you. He then said that he doesn’t really know as he doesn’t have much experience with spider bites and asked Jade and a passer what they think! This almost pushed me over the edge. We eventually found someone who knew and got the correct anti-biotic cream for it… but come on pharmacy guy – pull it together – I really don’t want to hear that some spider bites may kill me and that you don’t have a clue what to do!

The third day of driving to LA and we were still in Texas… as much as I loved Dallas… the state of Texas just goes on forever!… we finally went through New Mexico and got to LA that night.

Hard core you know the score! lol.

 Los Angeles

Jade & I in LA

 In LA we stayed on Long Beach and definitely moved up from our Super8 experiences. Our hotel was absolutely gorgeous… a 4 star downtown number. We spent a few nights in LA and most of it was a total blur as I think I was drunk the entire time.

 We were getting free drink at this Irish bar, the Dubliner, and we took advantage of it. I hate shots… I hate taking them… I hate how they make me feel – but in LA I all of a sudden thought I was Mary Queen of Shots and was knocking them back left, right and centre.

Route of all evil

 So drunk the entire time, and as we are boob people, we spent a bit of time in Hooters where I thought it would be funny to motorboat one of the girls… it was. Lol.

LA Baby

 In the Dubliner my ‘free’ drinks did come at a price… I ended up prostituting my dancing skills out to a soiree of old men. I initially danced with one to be polite, then another came up so I thought when in Rome… then he asked me to dance with his friend and after I did another then came up… I said no and he responded “well you danced with all them” so by then I left obliged.

 Back at the hotel I was a tad sick… I came out the bathroom and there is Jade lying butt naked on the floor… although it sounds funny now – it really wasn’t at the time. I got in to bed and told Jade to get in to hers. But instead she kept trying to get in with me butt naked and I was covered in sick…

 “Just leave me alone Jade… go to your own bed!”

 The next few nights in LA was when my liver started to hurt… a weeks solid booze abuse in Atlanta then pounding the shots in LA started to take its toll.. so instead of stopping drinking Jade suggested I get on the cocktails instead – this actually made sense at the time – in hindsight no so much. Lol.

Jade in LA with her clothes on

 We got on the bus to downtown LA (as opposed to Long beach) with a cocktail in our hand and our heels on… we stuck out like sore thumbs. But mostly in a good way…except from my prostitute dress.

  On the bus a guy approached Jade and gave her a flower… which was sweet enough. Two minutes later he comes back and gives her a picture of a lady on a horse… hmm – they don’t really do this at home… was it another cultural difference or did Jade have a weird stocker? Lol – it was the latter.

flower power

Hollywood is so dirty! We went to the walk of fame and down to Sunset and it is, not to sugar coat it, a shit-hole. Every single person was totally out their faces and there was homeless people everywhere… not at all like one would imagine it to be.

 We went back to hotel Maya drunk and could not work the lights, so Jade steaming put in an official complaint. The next morning Jade was out getting us breakfast and an electrician comes to the hotel door and says that we complained all our lights were broken and he was here to fix them. Turns out we are just a couple of morons who were too drunk to turn on the lights and the guy took me round the whole room showing me how to turn the lights on and off – needless to say I was mortified.

Hollywood walk of fame

 Back on the road and heading to Vegas… by this time we have listened to every single CD in the car so many times, so we turn to radio. Man American radio sucks… in a nutshell it is a mix of country and God stations and the manner in which they tell the news makes me feel sick to my stomach. Luckily we just got a bargain for Bally’s hotel in Vegas and were only 4 hours away… wuhu!

Las Vegas

I do need to be cautious regarding what I reveal about Vegas… when we got to the hotel we had to pledge an agreement… as you may have heard ‘What happens in Vegas: stays in Vegas.’ (I actually think this may be why we still don’t know who shot Tupac… everyone’s lips are sealed) lol.

Vegas

 But Vegas is the best place in the world… it just has everything! We could have stayed in our hotel the entire time… the room was amazing, the service was amazing, there was food I could actually eat (as I struggled a little with food stateside), there was even a Mall and a train station inside our hotel.

 In Vegas we actually got our first real chance to sunbath… we lay at the pool all day, drank cocktails and got a perv at the boys… most of whom were gay dancers – but nonetheless they are lovely to look at (again I blame the heat). Poor Jade got toasted though… and to this day she still thinks she’s got skin cancer.

 I had a very lucky night in Vegas… all thanks to my bum-bag… yes I have a bum-bag – or as the Americans say fanny-pack. Ha! I love that expression. Jade was totally mortified… but I actually think it was a good look for me: and if nothing else it is definitely practical. Lol. On my lucky night we played Black Jack (21) and I got hooked and actually managed to make a good amount of cash as I got loads of 21s… every time you get it they give you a necklace… by the end of the night I looked like a Christmas tree.  

 Unfortunately I got greedy and played again the next night and lost all my money! Damn. But I think it’s all part of the experience.

 The clubs in Vegas were great too… we were also trying to do some celeb spotting – but failed miserably. We also went to a topless show… that was fun. We paid for the ‘cheap’ seats at the back… but when the lights went off the Usher came to get us and put us in the VIP boxes, where the nips almost take your eyes out – score lol.

Bally's Show

 Oh I almost forgot… another dumb American story. The entire time we were there both Jade and I were using the same ID… mine. I had my passport and she was using my driving licence and we went places together… one after the other – and not one of them noticed. Either that or they just didn’t care. If it’s the latter they go from dumb to nice Americans.

 Some of the people we met in Vegas were just nuts… there was the dumb blonde (not her official name, although it should be) who was married to a fat rich old man who gave me the boke. And there was the two Mexican guys who were just hilarious. One of them, who was clearly there illegally, was carrying around a fat white guys passport. I looked at it and almost peed laughing. He was like “that was before, that was before” – before what pal? – your skin transplant? And there was my lucky card dealer!

 Another highlight was forgetting the time difference, calling home and telling my Mum I got married, priceless. That’s really all I can say about Vegas without breaking my oath… but it is simply the best place in the world. It’s not the kind of place you could actually live… unless you want to develop a very unhealthy drinking and gambling problem – but it was just out of this world.

What happens in Vegas...

 Bye Vegas!

Back On the Road

Heading back to Atlanta was nuts… I think we did it in a world record – 2days non stop driving from Vegas to Georgia. I actually think we should be given an award for it. We went back on 40 then 20… as opposed to 20 then 10 – so we went through all the mid states… and of course somehow wound up back in the monster state that is Texas. We pulled over to get a few hours rest… it was absolutely bucketing down and we could hardly see. We later found out that there was a tornado right where we were… and that was not our only run in with the dodgy American weather.

When we got to Oklahoma on our way back we had to spend a few hours in a Pizza Hut… not because we were so hungry but due to a tornado scare. I was bricking it!

As mentioned previously my eating habits stateside where not the best. I felt like I couldn’t eat anything so resorted to fast food the whole time. If I never see another Subway in my life… my life will be a happy one.

But a combination of all the fast food and drinking, which was every night, resulted in my gaining half a stone – which I am still trying to get rid of! Damn Americans and their massive portions… no wonder they are all so fat.

Although I am sad to be back home… I’m lucky I came home when I did – otherwise I would be like Ten Tone Tess by now.

Back to Atlanta

Back in Atlanta we got up to no good. I was still avoiding Jade’s uncle… who was dying to go out with us – every time he called I had an excuse not to speak to him. I thought it was best to avoid him… in case I couldn’t bite my tongue at our next encounter.

Well you remember Jordan G (Napoleon) he managed to upset Jade… so we went along with our trusty companion (or so we thought at the time) Aaron to egg and flour his car. It was genuinely the happiest I felt whilst being there – lol: that must be the bad in me coming out… but honestly he deserved it! 

Ha !

I also had a few good nights out with Aaron… all of which are now scrambled in my head and not very clear at all – I think he was trying to get me drunk. Lol.

 One night Jade and I went out for a drink with Aaron and met up with his friends then went back to a party and it was the most drunk I had gotten the entire time I was there. I don’t know if what I’m about to tell you actually even happened as I can’t remember any of that night – this is from Jade’s account. I entered in to a drinking contest with Aaron’s friend Justin… and I don’t think I won. Word on the street is I hit the shots, everyone could see my knickers most of the time and I ended up lying on a bathroom floor being sick… classy chic.

Another ?

 But Aaron thank you for being such a sweetheart and getting me home safely and carrying me when my legs deserted me… and for listening to all my drunken babbling.

 I do however remember the next day when I uttered those infamous words “I’m never drinking again.” I was actually hung-over for a full 24 hours… and not just feeling crappy… it was a hard core hangover – proper sick all day… not eating – I even cried a little as a felt so sorry for myself. Lol.

 I managed to pull it together eventually but I was out of commission for a full day and night.

Shockingly after my classy performance Aaron still wanted another night out with us. Lol. The next one I can remember I had a great night… although Jade didn’t. I think it was at Twisted Taco (a dive) but it was good fun… but Aaron did get his revenge a threw a drink on me. Although he denies it to this day claiming it was me – I am certain he threw it on me on purpose. But to be fair to him he did more than make up for it that night. Thanks for a great time.

We had another few nights out like that… a place called Diamond Daves springs to mind… where I got dropped on my ass (thanks for that… although I did get my revenge). That’s what I get for trying to teach the Americans to dance. In the states they ask you to dance but they would be as well asking you to dry hump to the beat of the music.

 Got to spend some more time with Mark and Megan when we were back in Atlanta – miss and love you guys!

 The next big thing was heading to NYC to meet up with my other BFF Dani T.

Dan, Jade & I in NYC

New York, New York

I was so glad to meet up with Danielle in New York… someone else who could actually understand me and who got my jokes – wuhu! Jade and I rallied it up to New York… ditched the Shaggin Waggin and got in an NYC taxi aka death trap.

Big Yellow Taxi

The drivers in New York are absolutely nuts… especially the taxi drivers… we were in a taxi and I actually let out a scream it was that bad.

But New York was amazing… and ever better we were more amazed as we got VIP everywhere we went. We spent most of out nights out at the Meat Packing District (sounds dirty I know… but apparently they actually pack meat there) and got hustled to the front and VIP at all the clubs. We were looking for some proper Manhattan girls… like in Sex and the City… but turns out they don’t exist – which although we were disappointed most definitely worked in our favour.

New York

 The price of drinks that we did buy were extortionate… I got two vodkas and sprite and was charged $48 – makes me feel physically sick. So we just had to get hammered before we went out.

 The best night out in New York was when I stole a broom and flew in to the lift with it trying to convince everyone that I was a witch. Good times.

the broom

 Our hotel in New York was gorgeous and right off Time Square but I am pretty sure there was a crack den on the corner. On every corner of every block in NYC there are hot dog vendors… but the queue for this one was massive (and their hot dogs weren’t that great) hence coming to the reasonable conclusion that it was a crack den.

Dani and Jade in NYC

 We did some proper sight seeing in New York… all the touristy things – went to see the Statue of Liberty, Central Park, Crystal Building, Ground Zero, etc and we did some serious shopping… where I financially fucked myself – we spent so much money shopping in New York that I had to bring an extra suitcase home with me… it was great!

  There was also the ‘sky-blue man’ in New York. The sky blue man was clearly a white man… the thing that tells you when you can cross the road. But when we were saying… I need to wait for the white man – we were getting funny looks – like we were racists or something – hence the introduction of the sky blue man.

Central Park

 We also went on the Sex and the City Tour in New York and blew some money in the Pleasure Chest – best money we ever spent.

The Pleasure Chest

 Another highlight of New York was going to the free Whitney Houston concert in Central Park… the most so real thing ever.

 Back to Atlanta

Jade and I headed back to Atlanta for the final stint of our summer … which was by far the best summer ever. On the way I was forced to through Jade’s Aaron Carter CD out the window: which she is still not happy about.

Although it was coming to the end of our trip I still hadn’t quite mastered driving on the right hand side of the road… and whilst on the phone wound up driving on the freeway in the wrong direction – seeing the big signs “WRONG WAY”.

I was happy to go back to Atlanta because it meant that we got to spend some more time with Aaron (my best American friend) and we had fun.

Our final mini adventure was a weekend in Tennessee with Bridgette and her family… well it was meant to be with Bridgette and her family – but she ended up away playing football the whole time… so we got to spend the weekend with her family.

This is where I got myself a bracelet buddy – Katie-Mae and decided to show the American boys how to play pool. I totally wiped the floor with them all.

Bracelet Buddies

 Jade and I had such a laugh with Bridgette’s mum and dad. We had a big party for the boys and girls football team – but the Pikeville people are strange. Lol. All the girls grab each others boobs and the boys are just odd – we even had to pull out another round of the Cheeky Girls to lighten the mood. Lol.

 But in coming back from Tennessee we most definitely got a laugh. We dropped off Bridgette’s Gran and she gets out the car… pulls her pants to her ankles and start peeing in the front garden – her explanation being that she didn’t think she would make it up the stairs. Hilarious!

 Happily we had a great few final nights in Atl… we hit the karaoke bar (but I didn’t even get to sing) and had a giggle. Thanks for a great time Aaron… you made my trip!

 Thank You…

 Mum and Dad – For paying for the flights

 Aunt Catherine – Giving us a place to stay in Atlanta

 Bridgett – For being the party finding Queen of the world and keeping us entertained

 Lisa and Dani – For being the best best-friends in the world

 Aaron – For keeping me entertained and showing me a great time: you made my trip (and will always be my American BFF)

 And last but by no means least…

 Jade – Wouldn’t have happened without you gorgeous!

I’ve been thinking a lot about cocks lately.

And no, I’m not questioning my sexuality, haha, thanks for asking. But I am questioning, well, something. I’m just not sure exactly what it is I’m questioning. Mi’lady and I use cock play (for lack of anything better to call it… is there something better to call it?) a lot when we fuck, in various ways. For example: I strap on and fuck her. I strap on, and she gives me a blow job (SO HOT, oh my god I don’t know if I can think of any image hotter than of my cock in her mouth, and her looking sweetly/seductively up at me). Occasionally, she straps on and fucks me. These are all ways that we use real fake cocks in our sex. (I know, real fake is contradictory, but what I mean is there’s a real cock there, a non-flesh one, a dildo, but it’s a real cock just the same.) These are the more straightforward ways of fucking with cocks, and these are the ways that don’t make me think much beyond HOT! TURNED ON! HOT!

And then there are ways that are more psychological. One of my favorite ways to get off is orally — her tongue has insane endurance and is oh-my-god so so good. There are no words. She is truly the mistress of licking pussy. Except… sometimes (dare I even say often?), when she’s between my legs licking my clit, I pretend she’s sucking my cock. And something about that psychological trick just turns me on so much that I can come really, really fast after that.

And I’m not the only one who does this. The only way mi’lady gets off is with my fingers on her clit (mmmm I love the feeling of her slick hard clit under my fingers…). And one time last week, I was rubbing her clit and she said “how do I feel baby?” “Slick and hard,” I said, “hard like a cock.” And she literally writhed in her sudden new arousal. “Oh baby yeah, jerk my cock,” she moaned, and for the remaining moments until she came, we dirty-talked cock imagery. Imagining that I was jerking her cock was a profound turn-on.

We talked about it afterwards. Though this kind of cock play is really hot and fun, it definitely brings stuff up for me (and for her as well, in similar ways, but I’m just going to speak for myself on my blog). For one thing, I’ve struggled quite a bit with the whole idea of Authenticity in the lesbian “community.” I’m sure I’ll write more about this at some point; I’ve touched on it a bit in my post “On Femininity” (see link under my Favorite Posts, over there on the left). It’s this whole idea that “gold star” lesbians are the most authentic lesbians, and on down the line until women who have sexual/romantic relationships with men as well as women are often peered at in suspicion, and lack total authenticity. (Along with that, I think, is the notion that women who present intentional or unintentional masculinity are automatically more authentic as lesbians, and women who present intentional or unintentional femininity are less authentic.) So, this whole thing of somehow liking cock in sex… especially as a femme-presenting dyke… brings up issues for me of “can I talk about this? will people doubt my sexuality?” And of course, it doesn’t matter whether other people doubt my sexuality. But it feels oppressive all the same.

But something that’s even more unsettling for me, I think, are questions of patriarchy and heteronormativity. Are we just buying into some sort of hetero-paradigm by including the cock in our own man-free sex? Are we in a way proving people right who think that the ultimate sex acts (“real sex”) have to involve a penis? (Clearly there are many things we do that do not involve the cock or any kind of cock play, but hey, those could be just foreplay!) And… do we have penis envy?? Are we proving Freud right? Women just spend our lives trying to make up for a gaping hole (to be utterly literal)? (It might be relevant to point out here that both of us do not identify as trans or genderqueer.)

As I sort of said above, strapping on by itself never raised these questions for me. I’ve never been uncomfortable with the idea of using a cock. It seems so blatantly and purely not straight, so clearly not pretending to be a man — it’s very much its own thing. So strapping on in itself has never seemed to me to be heteronormative or patriarchal. But somehow, imagining that my clit is my cock starts to make me think there’s a line I might be crossing. I don’t know. It’s hard to articulate. And mostly, I still just think it’s hot. But it makes me wriggle the tiniest bit just the same, in some sort of vague discomfort. Luckily, the vague discomfort isn’t enough to make me want to stop.

Oh my god, SO BUSY!

Mi’lady’s family is in town, and between catching up on work from vacation and hanging out with her family, my time has been completely overtaken. I usually post from work (bad me…) so when it happens that I have to leave work at a particular time in order to make a dinner date with the Lady Fam, and I have too much work to do in that limited amount of time in the first place, then posting tends not to happen. I’m one of the rare freaks of nature that doesn’t really use my computer at home all that much.

Today’s no different, so I’m just saying a quick hello, and that in the next few days I have a post or two coming up on various things, such as: “passing” as straight/femme-ininity (I could go on and on about this); cock eroticism (fetishizing?) in non-butch/femme dyke sex (the kind mi’lady and I have, since neither of us identifies as one or the other). Maybe some more on Mexico, though that’s already fading away into the distant past. More waxing on anti-depressants. Reflections on communicating. More specific thoughts about “alphafemme” as my identity–I’ve gotten several emails about that, asking me to elaborate on it. I like getting emails from people, it’s lovely! So I will indulge them.

AND, some exciting stuff that I’ve been up to in my own life, non-sex or -relationship related. I’ve been getting busy, but along with that comes more of a sense of ownership over my own self.

Okay, I guess that all adds up to more than “a post or two.” More like a lot. So, all that should keep my blog fairly busy for the next coupla. I find that the more I write here, the more I have a sense of belonging in this Blogosphere, whatever/wherever that is. I think I like it here.

Day 1 in Puerto Vallarta: GAY CRUISE!!!!!!!!!!!

(Camera was aiming straight up at the sun in this one so I couldn’t see the screen at all… hence it being off-center. Sigh.)

When we were looking at lesbian things to do in Puerto Vallarta, Diana’s Tours was one of the only things that was listed for lesbians. It’s a full-day cruise around the Banderas Bay in a private yacht, including open bar, breakfast, snacks, snorkeling, swimming at a gorgeous private beach, lunch (mmm grilled talapia…) on shore, and the leadership of the amazing Diana, a tough butch Montreal transplant who one day 13 years ago came to Puerto Vallarta for vacation and decided to stay. (Would I had the courage to do something that impulsive!) So mi’lady and I thought “sweet! LESBIANS! and Diana can give us tips on lesbian nightlife!” (since none of the guidebooks, even in the gay sections, had anything at all to say about a lesbian nightlife).

We were wrong. We showed up at the dock the first morning (after confirming at breakfast at the (gay) hotel that we were the only women in the entire establishment), promptly spotted Diana, and were greeted with “You must be Alphafemme and Hr’lady! Welcome!” at which point we realized we were, in fact, the only women on the cruise as well.

Which was fine, of course. Gay guys are a ton of fun. We had a blast that day, and it was totally refreshing being around a group of 20 people with the knowledge that not one of them was checking us out. Plus all the guys were like “omg! lesbians! omg awesome! yay diversity! omg!” and so we felt very embraced.

But honestly, I don’t know that we would have felt as welcome, and might have felt somewhat out of place, if the leader of the tour hadn’t been a lesbian. Somehow, the fact that she was a lesbian validated our presence there. If the leader of the tour had been a gay man, though, and then we’d shown up to all the other passengers being gay men, we probably would’ve felt that we’d somehow not gotten the memo. That they only said they were a gay and lesbian tour in order to sound inclusive, but really, they didn’t actually mean it. Really, it’s just a gay guy party.

And as it turned out, there really isn’t anything for lesbians in Puerto Vallarta. Diana’s Tour is really about the lezziest thing you can do. We asked Diana whether it was just a low season in terms of lesbian tourists, and she said no — her cruise occasionally has a few women, but is mostly gay men. The gay hotels are all male-owned and phallocentric (for real — our hotel had pictures of penises EVERYWHERE). The gay bars and dance clubs are all populated entirely by gay men. The gay beach is a male meat market. “There’s one bar that’s lesbian-owned,” Diana told us, “but none of the clientele are lesbians.”

Where are all the ladies? I think there’s this devil’s spiral thing happening. Lesbians in general are not as affluent as gay men (24% of lesbians live in poverty, compared to 15% of gay men, and lesbian couples are much more likely to be poor than gay male couples–see this Williams Institute report). So financially, it’s not as smart to market to lesbians, because they have a much lower spending power than gay men. (Socially, too — and this is less measurable, but I would guess still a factor — I think lesbians and women are just taken less seriously than gay (and straight) men as decision-making consumers. Also, (white) gay men are just taken for granted as the picture of Gay.) And so gay destinations market to gay men, almost de facto. They include the “and lesbian” tag just to be inclusive, but when push comes to shove, marketing to both gay men and lesbians is hard — we’re different after all! — and so gay men get the push. We dykes get the shove. And then as a result of that, we don’t travel to gay destinations. We know they won’t be oriented to us, so we stay home. Or go into the woods. Or just go to straight places, where we won’t be completely irrelevant as the only women. Invisible, maybe. But not irrelevant.

I see two solutions:

1) “Gay and lesbian” has to start really meaning gay AND LESBIAN. If they’re going to cater to lesbians, cater to frickin lesbians! Show some tits and pussy! Blast M.I.A. and Tegan & Sara and Melissa Etheridge! Have women-specific events! Ladies nights! Anything!

and,

2) DYKES NEED TO GET OUT MORE. The end.

Note: I recognize that I am extremely lucky to be in a demographic that can afford leisure travel, like a trip to Mexico. I think, though, that this point easily transfers to a more general one: white gay men are the face of gay. And it sucks.

This is a meme borrowed from greg. I couldn’t resist because it has SEX in it. HA!

1. Boxers, briefs, hipsters, bikinis or none? Boxers post-sex, hipsters the rest of the time.

2. Last book you’ve read or are now reading? I’m in the middle of two books. (1) Brideshead Revisited (Evelyn Waugh). Good book, but the only edition of it I could find anywhere has the TV miniseries pictures all over the cover. Number one way to deter serious readers from a good book? PUT PICTURES FROM A TV MINISERIES ALL OVER ITS COVER. (2) Lolita (Nabokov). Read it before, hated it. So I’m reading it again to try to convince myself of its “literary merits” and ignore the sleazy pedophilia. Harder than it sounds.

3. When did the realization hit you that you’re a lesbian? Well, technically, sophomore year of college when I fell in love with my ex-girlfriend. (See my National Coming Out Day entry for the deets on that story.) But, really, it was in fifth grade when I had a huge crush on Joanna Eastmond. She moved to South Dakota the following year and I have no idea what’s happened to her. She’s Mormon though. So I think it’s safe to say that would’ve gone nowhere.

4. Give us some details of your first lesbian sexual relationship: Oh my god, eye-opening. Just, wow. I had no idea it was possible to get that wet, to be that turned on, to feel so explosively sexual. We were each others’ lesbian firsts, so we got to do the whole exploring-everything-because-it-was-all-brand-new thing. SO MUCH FUN!

5. Rate your sensitivity level from 1 (low) to 5 (high) for your hurtful feelings: Probably 4. I’m pretty sensitive. But then there are times when I’m surprisingly not sensitive, and then people will apologize to me for something they thought probably hurt me because I usually am sensitive, and I’m all like “what? what’d you do? I didn’t know you did anything.”

6. Name the farthest place you’ve traveled to from home: I guess Hawai’i was technically the farthest from my then-home (upstate New York). Greece (the island of Evia) is the furthest from my current home (San Francisco) (though at the time I was living in Germany!).

7. Ever get caught “doing it”? Or explain the most embarrassing if you’ve had many: Never been caught “doing it”, and the only time I’ve ever been caught hooking up at all was last winter, at mi’lady’s holiday party at her house. She calls me into her room in the middle of the party and we start making out madly on her bedroom floor (at this point we’d been dating for all of like, 3 weeks) and after maybe 10 minutes her best friend knocks on the door and then just BARGES ON IN! Like the knock was just a protocol? I don’t know. So we look up at her like deer in headlights, and she looks terribly flustered, goes completely red, and is all “OMG” and backs out of the room in a confused hurry. We mostly thought it was pretty funny.

8. What is your biggest accomplishment? Hmmm. Somehow I don’t feel all that accomplished. I guess it would be finishing my undergraduate honors thesis in philosophy, and getting magna cum laude on it. That felt pretty good, especially since as late as November of that same year I wasn’t sure I’d be able to finish it.

9. What is your major weakness? Relying on other people too much for my own sense of self-worth.

10. Do you normally keep your ex’s as friends? Nope. Never have. Once I move on, I’ve moved on. My college girlfriend and I are I guess “friendly acquaintances” now, but I just can’t do the friends thing.

11. Have you gotten your heart broken more or have you broken more hearts? Well, above-mentioned college girlfriend totally broke my heart after two years of dating — she broke up with me right before I was moving to San Francisco to be with her. (Luckily SF is a place anyone would want to be regardless of relationship status.) That sucked, and I lost about 25 pounds in two months (and people, I was only about 135lbs to begin with) and cried every single day and was miserable and alone. And then slowly but surely, I started getting over her, and several months later I found mi’lady, and then I broke my ex’s heart, because it turns out she’d been still in love with me the whole time and was harboring hopes of getting back together and was heartbroken when I told her I was with someone else now. Karma, y’all. So I think I’m even — heart broken once, one heart broken.

12. Ever cause any divorces? I certainly hope not!

13. Ever participate in a ménage de trios (three some)? No, and can’t say I’m really itching to either. I think I’d be overwhelmed.

14. Are you a boobs, butt or legs woman? OMG BOOBS. My tongue is hanging out of my mouth like a dog about to get a treat just at the thought of mi’lady’s. Mmmmmmmmmm.

15. Muffled or loud? Oh, loud, absolutely. I can stifle if necessary, but oh my when it’s good I just can’t be shushed…

16. Name the most unusual place(s) you’ve “done it”: Well this isn’t exactly an unusual place, but it shows my unusual skill, haha. I was driving down to LA with mi’lady, I was driving, remember, and while I was driving, I fucked mi’lady in the passenger seat. That was really, really hot, because I had to keep my focus on the road so I couldn’t look at her and couldn’t touch her aside from the fucking, but she was writhing and wet and groaning and trying not to be too obvious to cars passing us on either side… Okay I’m getting wet just typing it. And I’m at work, totally not a good place to be turned on.  …. Other unusual places: bottom of a slide at a playground at night (we slid down on our backs with our heads first, and fucked with our heads hanging off the bottom edge of the slide), at the symphony (that took some skill, we weren’t even in a box! we had coats on our laps and had to be reeeeeally really covert), in the back of a cab (poor cabbie, I’m sure he knew what was going on), in the back of the car while my ex’s sister was driving and her husband was in the passenger seat (that was just rude, I feel bad about that now), in the fitting room at Target while trying on swimsuits…

Okay I need to stop writing about sex, because it’s way too distracting at work. And I’m NOT EVEN GOING TO SEE HER TONIGHT! Though I shouldn’t complain, we had sex three times last night. Well, maybe I should count it as all one time, since it’s not like we got up and did other things in between, but each time we were going to stop and then just couldn’t. We got this new toy, see–a rabbit vibrator dildo in a harness. Mi’lady has never been able to come internally, so we thought maybe with a vibrator and with some clitoral stimulation at the same time it might be possible. Oh BOY was it possible. Watching her come like that was insanely hot; since she’d never come that way before she was just so shocked and overwhelmed and a bit confused and her body had this whole reaction without her fully realizing what was going on. She just looked so completely vulnerable and at the mercy of this feeling. So amazing. But then afterwards she needed more, she needed another orgasm in order to feel full and completed. And then she needed another… Oh man. So, so good.

Okay now I REALLY need to stop writing about sex.

Meet Lizzy the Lezzy and she’s out and she’s proud! lol! She’s wicked cute.

Ladies, Lizzy is single and luvez the muff munchers

Chick her Out!
Official Site: www.lizzythelezzy.com

Meet Lizzy’s friend, Gary the Gay. He’s single, too. How I luv an accent. hehehe

Annika left yesterday morning, early, before I got up to go to work. We didn’t get much sleep–we had sex most of the night and talked intermittently. “We’re a funny sort of friends,” she said, naked, tangled up in me, her head resting on… my shoulder? collarbone? chest? There really ought to be a name for the nook someone rests their head in, under your chin, in front of your neck, the place you put your hand when you say the pledge of allegiance. Anyway, “we’re a funny sort of friends.” And there we were, post-sex, having spent five days fucking and hanging out, but not falling in love. We are a funny sort of friends. The sort of friends who laugh and have fun together, talk about each others’ lives, listen actively, share forthrightly, are honest and genuine with each other. Also the kind of friends who find each other sexy, who flirt with each other, who make out and fuck. But… also the kind of friends who act like a couple? Who cuddle and kiss and pet each other and go on dates? Don’t those things generally mean you’re more than friends?

It’s strange. The first time we met, she was visiting with her friend, Becky, my roommate’s on-again-off-again lover. That first time, though, I was already occupied with another girl. Annika and I had one conversation, just one. But I thought she was hot and when Other Girl came and went, and turned out to be a married woman who picked me to fall in love with (”It’s not all women, I’m not gay, it’s just you!”) and then became all puppy-dog on me, and then when Annika came back to visit again with Becky the following weekend, that’s when Annika and I hit it off. The whole weekend (which turned out to be a four-day weekend… I even missed work) she and I were together, which involved a whole lot of making out, a whole lot of getting drunk, sleeping on the floor of a hotel room with 8 other people, and then finally, the last night, having amazing sex in my bed at my place (while my roommate and Becky, coincidentally, were having sex in their room).

And I thought that was that. But then Annika came back to San Francisco, to visit. This past weekend. Three weeks after she was here the last time. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been attracted to someone smarter than me,” Annika told me. “Smart is sexy.” (I don’t think I’m smarter than her–she’s pretty fucking smart herself–but I do think that one of the things that made us click was that  I could be intellectual with her. I could talk about philosophy and gender theory and she thought it was hot. I like that in a woman.) So she came back, for five days.

I was nervous. I’m not in a place right now where I want to be in a relationship. With anyone. I don’t want to be in love. I want to be single, I want to be exploring sexuality, I want to be connecting with lots of different people, and being open to lots of different possibilities. It’s not that long ago that my Ex and I broke up and we had a pretty difficult relationship at the end. And I’m just done being miserable, done living for someone else. I need to learn how to live for myself before I get involved with anyone else. So having Annika come back seemed like a major thing that I wasn’t sure I was ready for.

And I’m still not sure what to make of it. “I’m not really looking for anything serious,” she told me. Phew. But what on earth is our connection about? It’s so odd. I’m not in love with her, and I don’t know if I ever would be. But we had really good sex (interestingly, with her, I was a consistent bottom–very unusual for me; “I felt the urge to hold you, heal you,” Annika told me (why? is what I want to know), “I just assumed you were a bottom, didn’t you assume I was a top?” I did, actually, assume she was a top, so I may have just been playing along with that–also interestingly, she said she’s not usually a top–what’s up with the switcheroo?!) and really good conversations, really good chemistry. We acted like a couple the whole time. But I’m just not feeling the idea of getting serious with her.

And that’s kind of a first for me. Feeling good about just having a casual non-monogamous fucking thing going on. We’re a funny sort of friends, I guess. And it works. She left to go back to Seattle yesterday morning, kissed me gently before tiptoeing out and running off to the airport, and I haven’t felt a particular urge to talk to her or call her. But I also do still want her in my life, and she’s thinking of moving here in January. So what will happen then? Will we keep fucking? Decide to call it quits and be friends? Decide to step it up and date? Who knows.

What I do know is, I’ve learned something about myself. That it’s possible for me to have sex–awesome sex–with women I am not in/soon going to be in a committed relationship with. That I can do it without overanalyzing, getting nervous and self-conscious, and feeling vulnerable. And maybe part of my reluctance to think of getting at all serious with Annika anytime soon is that, hot damn, I want to do this some more!