Tuesday, November 23, 2010

Working with your hands *No homo*

  First let me explain the title of this post.  Here in America there was a trend in which rappers would talk/sing/rap about sexual acts of a distinctly homosexual nature.  However, they thought to erase this (I don’t know, perceived homosexual vibe) by adding "No homo". 
     One, it’s incredibly insulting and two, it doesn’t work.  Sorry rappers whatever you said definitely still sounds gay.  Maybe even more so, now that you’ve added a disclaimer.

     This past week I was asked to help my lesbian friends, SL and W (when I asked them what they wanted their pseudonyms to be, they said, "Snow Leopard" and "Wolf"...Apparently I have odd friends).  They were planning on creating a patio in their backyard, or in other words a large concrete slab.
     I helped where ever I could, including moving wheelbarrows of concrete back and forth, from the cement truck to the backyard.  Let me tell you, concrete is heavy.  It was hard work, but I enjoyed it.  As a grad student in the sciences, I do a lot of mental work.  I like being able to use my mind, but I’ve always loved using my hands too (No homo).
     During the pouring of the patio, I encountered something I imagine is frustrating to many butch women: the discrepancy between male and female strength.  Now I'm talking purely physical strength here.  I simply cannot lift as much as a muscled male.  So even though I tried hard, many tasks went to the males.  Nothing quite takes the wind out of your sails more than being unable to help due to an innate biological difference.
     But I helped, and I can at least take comfort in that.

QBP: "money money money get a dollar & a dick
weezy baby that crack mothafucka get a fix
got money out the ass no homo" -Lil' Wayne


Monday, November 22, 2010

A coward lives here today

When you think about it, saying the words, "I'm gay" aren't actually physically difficult.

When talking about non-lesbian with a couple of my church friends, they kept on saying, "well you're not gay" and "Haven't you told her that?"  I responded, "I told her about my ex-boyfriend."  One of my friends, correctly responded, "Well you can have an ex-boyfriend and still be a lesbian." 

Argh!  I wanted to say it, but the words just couldn't come out.  I've been called brave and strong, but after last night, I don't think I have a right to those words.

QBP: "The difference between a hero and a coward is one step sideways. " -Gene Hackman

Friday, November 19, 2010

Blast from the Past: Snippets


February 27, 2009
I don't know how to let go.

But boy has she really pissed me off.  She has made me angry way more than she has helped me out.

Seriously this relationship is unhealthy.  Let go.  Let go.


September 08, 2009
This is torture.  I have two men in my life.  Both of whom would like to be in a relationship with me.  They want me, but I don't want them.


This sucks so hard. 


I know.  I'm lucky to have them.  I just wish I could feel for them.


February 15, 2010
I'm done with men. 

QBP: "I'm going gay. I've decided I'm turning gay. Willow, gay me up. Come on, let's gay." -Xander  Buffy the Vampire Slayer


     


Thursday, November 18, 2010

“Anything for you sir?”

     I have arrived.  Earlier this week I went out to a comedy club with my roommate and few friends (sorry, non-lesbian A was not there).  I was dressed in a tight black boy t-shirt and my favorite jacket.  The waitress comes over and asks for my friends’ drink orders and then turns to me.  “Anything for you sir?”  This is the first time anyone has called me sir.  I guessed I must have been slightly freaked, because my roommate, who was the only one who heard this exchange, said my voice went up an octave when I replied back to the waitress.  
     Don’t get me wrong.  I was excited to be called sir.  Two years ago when I cut my hair short because I was basically going on a long camping trip, I got offended when I was mistaken for a man (which was only once and it was a lady of an elderly status).  But now that my choice to look this way is deliberate, it’s nice to know someone notices. 
      It makes me feel good, though a bit wary.  One of the comedians was a lesbian, and when she mentioned it I wanted to shout out, to support her.  But I didn’t.  Some of the friends I was with didn’t know I’m gay.  Because I feel I can dress like a fem and support lesbians (as a generic liberal) or I can dress the part and then stay quiet in instances like these.   To dress both how I do and be vocal about LGBT things would just confirm everyone’s suspicions (in the logic that exists in my head). 
     Still I couldn’t help but love one comedian’s take on DADT.  One soldier friend of his confessed he doesn’t want gays in the military because they might look at his butt in the showers.  The comic made the point, if you can’t defend your butt, maybe you shouldn’t be defending the country!  But he said it all funny like…like you know comedians do.  All in all, a good night.

QBP: "Him, who incessantly laughs in the street, you may commonly hear grumbling in his closet. " -Johann Kaspar Lavater


Wednesday, November 17, 2010

AH!!! What do you want from me? Non-lesbian date #3


So you all remember non-lesbian, A, right?  Well if you don’t she is a girl I’ve been on a couple of “dates” with now, who talks about lesbians things, but is NOT a lesbian (her words).  Full story is here and here.  

      Some Thursdays we decide to hang out after she has class.  We agreed to hang out this past Thursday.  So I was chilling out in an blue A-shirt and baggy pajama pants watching a silly horror German flick, when I hear the doorbell.  Now I tend to be formal in appearance which means I never wear sweatpants to class and I don’t let new friends see me in pajamas.   I'm explaining this so you know how comfortable I was to begin with when I opened the door and there was A, without having called first.  What could I do except invite her in?  I apologize for my attire and she comments “The black looks good on you”.  Now I think she’s talking about my A-shirt, so I point out my shirt is more blue than black.  She points out she was talking about my hair and not my A-shirt.  I had recently dyed my hair and I had forgotten she hadn’t seen the outcome yet.  Usually I’m not so dim-witted, I swear.  So I laugh off the misunderstanding and then we sit and start chatting.
    Anyways flash forward to the pub we frequent.  She starts talking about the past weekend she had with our mutual gay guy friends.  She tells me she got drunk and then kissed a girl and then kissed a boy…and WAIT WHAT?  I was so stunned that I only half heard a comment about how the girl in question managed to “turn” her.  She said this all very quickly and unceremoniously before she proceeded to mention the guy she kissed.  I was too flabbergasted to bring the topic up again.  Okay I haven’t even kissed a girl and here is non-lesbian, a conservative Baptist preacher kid, telling me she kissed a girl.  I know, I know, lots of straight girls kiss other girls for a variety of reasons, but I guess I never expected A to be someone like that.
     As this is how the night gets started, my mind decides to go and drop general hints about sexuality, by talking about LGBT business in the church and such.  But each time I mention anything gay related except about our mutual gay friends, she gets quiet and a tiny bit cold.  
    At one point during the night A is talking about flirting and how she’s so bad at it, and why can’t the person she’s attempting to flirt with just ask her out already?  Now if I was a male thing I would not be able to ignore this anvil sized hint, but I’m not, so complications.  If A is interested I’m not going to be the aggressor particularly when whenever I mention gay things she withdraws. 
     She’s a feminist, into strong women (at least intellectually), but can’t help but mention how cute the waiter is every time he passes by.  Once when the waiter passed she grabbed him and said to me, “Honey what do you want?”  Now I know “honey” is used by women in the South even to strangers, but is it a Midwest thing too?  I don’t generally let my friends call me “honey”, “kid”, “etc.”
     She drops me off at my apartment and I’m all confused.  Still am.  Though I had thought with all my LGBT talking I would have scared her away.  But this past Sunday she came to see me play in the orchestra (in my tie) and then suggested we go grab lunch.  Again just me, the invitation wasn’t extended to anyone else.  Afterwards she offered to drive me to work, and I had to change clothes so I invited her into my apartment.  Or well I was going to but my roommate answered the door with no pants on.  She hurriedly closed the door and rushed inside.  I apologized for my roommate and A said “Sometimes no-pants time can be fun”.   
     This woman drives me nuts sometimes.  At this point it’s become a game.  How much of my gay-ness can I reveal before she realizes I am actually gay.  And ultimately is she or isn’t she?

QBP: "Some women can't say the word lesbian... even when their mouth is full of one." -Kate Clinton



Tuesday, November 16, 2010

I wore a tie to church Sunday…

     For church on Sunday I played in the orchestra during service.  As our dress code is all black for when we play I thought it was the perfect opportunity to try out my new black Tommy Hilfiger vintage slim (I say not for fashion’s sake, but because it has the best width for a slim upper body) tie.  As I tied my Windsor and adjusted it in the mirror, I started to feel anxious.
     This feeling increased as I walked to church.  In my head I was playing out a scenario in which the orchestra conductor looked over at me and my tie and just said “no” and then asked me to take it off.  From there I would insist that a tie wasn’t hurting anyone and I wouldn’t play without it.  Then things would escalate and I would make a dramatic show of leaving.  Then I would go teach my Bible Study class, cause I made a commitment and I stand by my commitments, and then a minister would come in and beg me to take off the tie.  I would again insist that such a small piece of clothing shouldn’t matter to anyone.  He would say he doesn’t care, but do it for the older people.  And again I would say no, and then never return to church again.
     Yeah.  My mind sorta goes into overdrive sometimes.  Then I thought that the above would probably not happen, but that I would get some awkwardness, faces, and questions about why would I wear a tie from my fellow Bible Study teachers and orchestra members.
     I stood tall, prepared for the worst, and strode into the Sanctuary where the orchestra was prepping and…NO ONE SAID A THING.  Not one person the entire day.  The closest to any recognition of the tie I got was a short double-take by my music stand partner.  Even the older ladies I work with to teach Bible Study showed no inkling of tie-worry. 
     I was almost disappointed!  But then I looked around and saw a friend of mine, a gay male, who was wearing a hot pink polo, jeans, and heavily gelled hair.  Oh and the skinny tall gay seminary student wearing a full length fake (obviously) leopard print stole.  Compared to all of that my tie was a pittance.  God loves me no matter what I wear and apparently so do the parishioners of my church.
     So Sunday I wore a tie to church…and no one cared.  The end. 

QBP: "Church is the only place where someone speaks to me and I do not have to answer back." -Charles de Gaulle

Monday, November 15, 2010

Butch Symposium: What is Butch?

Over at Sugarbutch, Mr. Sexsmith is starting up a symposium of butch bloggers/writers and addressing a question concerning butch and butch identity each month.  As this is the first one, we have the most fundamental question.  What exactly is butch?  I collected my own thoughts below.

     Though it might be how others identify butch individuals, for me butch has very little to do with clothes and hair.  Butch is an attitude.  I think above all Butch means embracing your protective instincts.  Holding a door open for a woman…or a man.  Standing up for others who can’t stand up for themselves.  Butch means not being afraid to get dirty especially when others are involved.  
      It means always hauling the heavy stuff your roommate can’t and hiding the fact that the box is slipping from your fingers and your arms are screaming out in pain.  It’s that swelling in your chest when a female friend compliments your strength or calls you brave, sexy, handsome.  And it’s that awkward feeling when people call you pretty, beautiful, or *gasp* feminine!  It’s the feeling when someone is hassling your friend that makes you want to haul out and slug them despite any size differences or logic.  It’s knowing when to listen and knowing when you back up your girl/friends.  It’s that feeling of confidence when you wear a dapper suit or perfectly fit t-shirt.  It’s calm under pressure (almost always at least).  It’s presence and swagger.  A woman can be dressed up as the completely stereotypical feminine icon, but if she has the appropriate swagger she can be Butch. 
     Coming from a more analytical perspective it’s the masculine part of the spectrum for all genders.  A lesbian friend of mine, SL, called butch “performed masculinity”.  I disagree wholeheartedly.  Clothing is a choice. Hair is a choice.  Butch isn’t.  Embellishment might be but otherwise I believe it’s as inherent as sexual orientation.   
     I take great pride in being Butch-identified.  Butch men and women are tough, strong, dependable, giving, and chivalrous.  With such wonderful adjectives like that who wouldn't want to be or know a Butch? 






Friday, November 12, 2010

Blast from the Past: A flash of blue


  December 03, 2008

     I tried cutting you out and it was hard.  But you made me love you, because I'm obsessed.  And you treat me so very differently than I treat you.  You're selfish.  I put my heart on my sleeve with you, so exposed and you ignore and bash it back in.  I don't know why I'm obsessed with you.  Your eyes maybe.  I know the shape of your body, the color of your hair, your jacket.  I know how you wear your hair.  Is this love?  I beg you to talk to me.  When I am hurt I call out for you and you turn me aside.  I check your Facebook profile many times a day.  I give you my best and my worst.  I look for you.  I know your friends and when they're around I look for you.  If I know the color of your shirt I look for it in the dining hall when we're sitting at different tables.  I do it covertly.  And I wish I was sitting with you at your table.  But this is wrong.  I need to fall out of love with you.  I know I have a strong will.  I just have to use it.  


      I will not love you anymore.  I am stronger than my mind.  I have proven it before.  I'll prove it yet again.


QBP: "As soon go kindle fire with snow, as seek to quench the fire of love with words." -William Shakespeare



Thursday, November 11, 2010

Formal wear

     I had to buy a suit a few weeks ago.  Wanting to be hetero-normative for the interview I needed the suit for, I went to a female oriented store.  One of my Aunts offered her “advice” without my asking for it (as family does) and told me to make sure I didn’t get a blouse that was “macho”.  Okay…someone please tell me what a macho blouse looks like, because my thought is that blouses are distinctly feminine.  Even the word sounds feminine.  Well of course I bought a pantsuit; I haven't worn a skirt since junior high. The suit looks great and feel great, and that’s good enough for me.  Combine that with a button down my roommate lent me and I looked pretty fantastic. 
     However after acting more feminine than I am at my interview I wanted to try something out.  I tried on a different button down, my suit jacket, and a new skinny tie I had purchased.  After trying out first a half Windsor, and then a full Windsor I found my favored tie knot.  The combination made me look real good.  But more importantly I felt like a million bucks.  Whenever I’ve worn a dress I’ve wondered how I much longer I had to wear it.  My friends would laugh at how I looked like I was being tortured.  It was a form of torture, ranking up there with death by spider bites (Buffy reference anyone?).  As I stood in front of the mirror, I realized I didn’t want to take it off, though it looked a little weird as I was wearing my pajama pants.
     It’s strange, perhaps even queer, the powers inherent in the tie.  It’s a strip of cloth that can transform a person more so than any other accessory.  Mystical powers.
     I took a few pictures and was struck by my appearance.  I compared a photo with one of me a little less than a year ago.  Long hair, glasses, along with my tomboyish clothes.  I looked disconnected particularly when compared to the formal wear pic.  It truly is amazing how much clothes and hair can make the (wo)man.

QBP: "Be sure what you want and be sure about yourself. Fashion is not just beauty, it's about good attitude. You have to believe in yourself and be strong." -Adriana Lima

The suit I wore to the interview
The other outfit


Wednesday, November 10, 2010

Celebrity Crushes

     You know you’re gay when you have a file on your computer which is full of pictures of hot women and when the list includes pics of Lucy Lawless, Ellen Page, and Kate Moennig.  Also my list includes Kristen Stewart (K-Stew for short), Kaya Scodelario, Jordana Brewster (particulary from D.E.B.S. and Annapolis), Evangeline Lilly, Katee Sackhoff, Sarah Shahi, Bridget Regan (though her boobs are a bit big for my personal tastes), Holly Marie Combs (so hot without even trying), Keira Knightley (only in men’s or sporty wear), Liv Tyler, Missy Peregrym, and most of the women from Glee.  Faberry and Brittana forevs!!! 
     Upon analysis of my collection which has only been amassed in the course of the last year, it seems like I am attracted to the dark headed beauties mostly who play tough women.  Additionally none of the women in my collection are wearing dresses or skirts in their pictures.  I’m simply not into it.  I think that’s part of the reason it took me a bit of time to figure out I was gay.  It’s tough to find tough, slightly masculine women in high school and on TV where they are often forced to dress up like feminine women.

Who are your celeb crushes?

(Though he isn’t in my collection, I always have had an attraction to Matt Damon.  I don’t think I want to have sex with him, but be his best buddy.  Regardless there is no shame in being a lesbian having male celeb crushes.  I mean even straight women tend to have that “one celeb she’s go gay for”™ .)

Now if we're talking fictional characters there's always Hermione...and on that note...here's a ridiculous Ginny/Hermione fanfic from the creative mind at QC.




Tuesday, November 9, 2010

Retreat: Beatitudes for Today’s World

Religious post!  I know how much you guys love these, but the blog is called "A Lesbian Christian".  God's got to show up sometimes.  Here are a few Beatitudes I came up with.

Blessed are the poor,
                for they are rich in the Kingdom of Heaven.
Blessed are the oppressed,
                for the doors of Heaven open up to them.
Blessed are the downtrodden, the despairing,
                for they will be granted God’s eternal grace.
Blessed are the protectors of the innocent,
                 for they will be under God’s protection.
Blessed are those who do good works,
                for their need will be met by others.
Blessed are those who love their neighbor,
                for only they can understand God’s unconditional love.

QBP: "The Lord is my Shepard and he knows I'm gay." -Rev.Troy Perry


Monday, November 8, 2010

In a closet, it's dark and quiet in here

     Very few gay folks are open from the time they realize they’re gay.  Thanks to the world we live in we keep our same sex desires a secret, whether it is due to fear of persecution from strangers or loved ones, or because our religion makes us feel guilty or wrong for having these feelings or various other reasons.  
     Luckily we have progressed overall as a people and it’s easier to be open about being gay than it ever has been.  That being said, even in the most gay friendly places coming out is always difficult, just for the sheer fact that being gay is “out of the norm/not of the mainstream”.  Witness the suicides of the past month, some happening even with loving people supporting them.
     I am in the closet except to a handful of close friends and my brothers.  I finally accepted I was gay at the beginning of this year.  I told my friends and they were extremely supportive though my best gay pal said he never thought I was gay, straight, maybe, asexual, even more so, but gay?  Nope.  Everyone has been immensely supportive, but it was weird hanging out with them at first.  They included me in their conversations about cute women and the gay community.  It made me feel weird.  They were more accepting than I was.  At that time in my head I was simultaneously coming to terms with being gay and trying to prove I wasn't.
     I fully acknowledge my big fat gayness now.  I feel comfortable being gay and dressing in a more butch manner around my friends that know.  However I am in the closet to everyone else.  The main reason why is that I’m planning on joining the military (if I get into medical school, and even if I do not).  With DADT still hanging on and a Republican majority soon taking over the House, it’s easier to stay in the closet.  But even this is a bit of an excuse.
     Truth is I’m scared.  
     I’m not an overly open person, particularly not when it comes to the important stuff.  I’m quiet and stoic except with my closest friends.  I wish I could tell my church friends.  My church is very open to gays and lesbians.  And at a progressive church, my church friends make up the most liberal part.  Included in my group is a bisexual (now more into men), a committed gay couple, and staunch gay rights supporters.  Yet even as my appearance gets more alternative, I maintain my straight-ness.  I am coward, letting my fears dictate my actions or lack there-of.  Why?
     The closet is comforting.  Sure it’s lonely, but it keeps me safe from bigots and prejudice.  And from relationships I might actually lose myself in.  I am a control freak.   Love is unrestrained and I am so entirely restrained it’s ridiculous.  Don’t get me wrong I’m laid back, and mostly easy going when it comes to others, but I am restrained.  That surrender of self is terrifying.  I see myself in lesbian characters such as Naomi, Shane, and the Shane clone, Frankie, (from the new BBC series Lip Service) in that I am afraid of love.  However I know this and I want to change.  

QBP: "The one permanent emotion of the inferior man is fear - fear of the unknown, the complex, the inexplicable.  What he wants above everything else is safety."  -Henry Louis Mencken


Friday, November 5, 2010

Blast from the Past: Kissing you

Today is Friday.  Woo!  On Fridays I'm going to have a series, Blast from the Past, mainly so I don't have to write anything new.  However, it could be interesting tracing someone's first inklings of *gasp* the Gay *ungasp*.  Anyways here is the first installment written about M!


 October 02, 2008

     I think of kissing you.  How would I feel?  Would it just be the dull feeling?  Would it be an explosion of sexual energy?  You bitch about life and I think it's cute.  I love being alone with you.  I love making you laugh.  I want to spend all my time with you.  Am I in love with you?  But here you are with a fiancé.   Will your marriage be successful?  I can tell we wouldn't be good in a relationship, but still I can't keep from thinking what it would be like to kiss you.  I think about hugging you, your warmth.  I spend all this time wondering.  And I will forever wonder until I find another man.  Will I accept marriage like my father did only to lead to the unhappiness of my spouse?  For now I live in a limbo, not knowing.  You'll never know how I felt about you.  I love you.  You make me question who I am.

QBP: "I am the love that dare not speak its name." -Lord Alfred Douglas



Thursday, November 4, 2010

Retreat: The Catholic Way

     Being raised from birth to college as a Lutheran, I am no stranger to a ritual heavy worship service.  People connect to God through all sorts of interesting and odd ways: drugs, snakes, flagellation.  Those are things I know don’t connect me personally to God.  My list also includes ritual.
     Ritual leads to familiarity which leads to acting without thinking.  I cannot connect to God if I am not thinking.  The phrase “going through the motions” should never apply to one’s relationship with God.  (Well not if they want to continue that relationship.)
     Everyone of course has their own way to God.
     I say all this to give you background before I talk about the Catholic services I attended at the monastery.  I’ll get all the lauding out first.  The main cathedral was gorgeous, beautiful and vast with plenty of statues, stained glass windows and amazing, striking paintings.  The pipe organ was the largest I’ve seen in person.  The monks were very monky in their somber black habits.  The acoustics in the cathedral gave the monks’ monophonic chanting a haunting reverberating feel.
     Now the bad, well not bad, but awkward and disconnecting, as an non-Catholic I was struck by how much previous knowledge you needed to feel comfortable at the service: when to kneel, bow, cross yourself, how to pronounce the Latin correctly.
     The service made me feel like an outsider and I feel religion should be welcoming.  So not only did I not get on board with the ritual, I felt the service was like a dumb blonde: very pretty, but not much substance.  (I'm well aware this is harsh, but it's how I see the Catholic church in my mind.  I'm also acutely aware that the Catholic church does wonders for some (though mostly not the gay folk) people.  I am not one of those people.)
     Again this is my opinion as it applies to how I interact with God and perceive the Catholic service.  The pomp and circumstance of various entrances of the monks and priests made it very clear who was holier.   Additionally it struck me that in this huge cathedral, that there is so little seating.  Isn’t the point of religious homes to give places to the worshippers?  The cathedral seemed rather empty, particularly with high vaulted ceilings.  Seems ironic that of all places a monastery be home to such a lavish cathedral and grounds.
     And the rules.  One of my fellow retreat goers got schooled because he was seen eating an apple before mass, and you cannot eat or drink anything an hour before you receive communion.  It’s my feeling that such rules (and the strictness of them) alienate people more than they bring people closer to God.  Does God really find it necessary to adhere to all these rules that aren’t in the Bible and yet be okay with all the various rules in Leviticus that get conveniently forgotten (except that one they can't seem to forget Lev 18:22)?
     All this leads to a question: are all those trappings necessary?  Short answer: no.  Don’t get me wrong, I like a church that’s easy on the eyes.  But I see those great cathedrals in Europe more so as historical pieces, than active places for worship.  I’m the type of person who needs a close and personal relationship with God.  There were so many distractions (the pretty, the ritual, the confusion) that I felt further from God than when I came in.
     But then again I’m the type to more likely to find God in nature, music and love, so that’s me. 

QBP: "The Bible contains six admonishments to homosexuals and 362 admonishments to heterosexuals.  That doesn't mean God doesn't love heterosexuals.  It's just that they need more supervision." -Lynn Lavner


Everyone has their own way to God.  Here we see Pink's.

Wednesday, November 3, 2010

Non-lesbian is not a lesbian (and she wants everyone to know )

     Previously I went out on a date with a girl, A, who claims not to be a lesbian.  Since then we’ve hung out a couple times, and went for a few walks.  This week she asked me if I wanted to hang out, and I agreed.  We went to this pub we’ve been to a couple times.  What followed is the most awkward friend date I’ve ever been on. 
     First of all she couldn’t help but say very often, about how she hates men.  (Now I personally like men; I just don’t want to sleep with them.)  She went on to say how various members of her family think she’s a lesbian, including her grandmother.  To add to this, she told me about this women's studies course she took in college.  Even I haven’t taken a women’s studies course!  (Update: When a mutual gay friend of ours asked why Tegan and Sarah were so popular in lesbian circles, non-lesbian, A, was very quick to say "they're lesbians!"...I just can't figure her out.)
     The most awkward moment was when she said if she was a lesbian she would want someone who wasn’t interested in feminine things.  Then she added she guessed that’s why she likes men.  I point out there are women who aren’t interested in feminine things (like myself as she very well knows) and then, a pregnant pause.  I felt bad for some reason and quickly changed the subject.
     To add to the confusion of the night she kept on emphasizing this date she went on with her very male ex and how the kiss they had at the end of the night was just so amazing.  But that going on a date with an ex was a “bad plan”.  Also she implied she’s never had sex, because she’s waiting for marriage.  Well I’ve never had sex either, but I’m waiting for women.
     She befuddles me.  Being gay is confusing sometimes.

QBP: “I’m not gay!” -Naomi  Skins


.....................................................


No, you're not gay...


Tuesday, November 2, 2010

For those ALC virgins out there

A short post since I posted twice (and both of them long) yesterday.

     I'm starting to feel more comfortable in my blog writing.  I feel like I'm figuring out what I want to address and what I want to focus on.  And now that I've found my voice I'm trying to spread the word out about this blog.  So if you're new to the blog I am an admittedly young closested lesbian.  The overarching purpose of this blog is to help show that one can be gay and be tight with the big guy in the sky.  But as is the case there are other interesting aspects to lives and I want to talk about those too.  So I complied a list of focuses (foci?).

- Bringing Gay and God together
- The journey to figure out what Butch means to me and how I can abide by that
- Questioning sexuality and what's it like when you don't know your whole life
- My love life (or more likely lack of)
- What it's like being closeted particularly as I embrace my Butch identity
- If things go according to plan, my entrance into the military and as a result DADT
- Perhaps some fiction and other forms of revelry
- And most importantly having fun and trying not to be too serious

Quotation of the Blog Post (QBP): "For a long time I thought I wanted to be a nun.  Then I realized that what I really wanted to be was a lesbian." -Mabel Maney


Monday, November 1, 2010

Fiction/Fantasy

     As I lay in my bed I looked at the face of my love while she slept.  Her breathing was slowed and deep, her dark hair cascading down her naked shoulders.  I smiled as I remembered last night and how she made me laugh, and how I had never felt so happy in my life.  It was as if I was living a half life and only with her could it be finally complete.  I gently stroked my fingers through her hair.  I loved her with my whole heart, more than anyone I have ever met.  How could such a love be wrong?  How could it be unnatural?  I have never had anything come more naturally to me than this, than her.
     I remembered when I was hurt and determined to forge on.  She stopped me and took care of me.  I was so used to taking care of myself that I forgot what it was like to be taken care of.  I used to think that if you let others take care of you that meant you were weak.  She showed me the strength of relying on another.  She loved me, which seemed nearly impossible to me.  I never saw what she saw in me.  I never understood why she loved me, put up with me.  But I guess that is what love is.
     I had spent so much time refusing to accept who I was.  When I kissed the many men who had loved me I had felt nothing.  Of course I blamed it on the men.  For surely God wouldn’t have made me wrong in that way.  So I ignored what I was.  I chose celibacy over love, because I was afraid.  I was afraid of being different, of persecution.  I just wanted to live the normal life society told me to live.  But even I knew I would never be happy living that way.
     Then one day I finally stopped pretending I was something I’m not.  The internal struggle that raged on for years finally ended.  I wish I could say that I was the cause of this acceptance, but I’m afraid I wasn’t.  No.  My salvation came in the form of a beautiful woman with long dark hair.  She was everything I wasn’t.  We started out as acquaintances, but soon a great friendship was formed.  But I had had friends before, even really close friends.  I thought nothing more about our relationship.
     One night she was listening to me talk about my day when she reached out her hand and held my face tenderly.  For once in my life, I did not pull away.  I was confused.  The warmth from her hand seemed to be warming my entire body and suddenly all I wanted to be was in her arms.  I had never felt this way with a man.  I finally had my answer to why that was.  I took her hand off my face and looked down at it, almost expecting the reason for the curious warmth it brought to be on its surface.  The implications of that warmth both scared and excited me.  I brushed the lines of her palm with a light finger.  She did not speak.  She kept her eyes on me as I kept them on her palm, unsure as to what I would do if I looked back.

QBP: "My theory is that the hardest work anyone does in life is to appear normal."  EdTV


My Journey to Gay

     I was a tomboy growing up.  The only difference between me and some many other children is that I didn’t grow out of that phase.  I abhor wearing dresses, and skirts, the color pink and any combination of those colors.  Even though I enjoyed sports more and than shopping, and didn’t fawn over boys in the same way my friends did I never thought I might be gay.  I had crushes on boys: ergo straight.
     I didn’t have any female gay friends and only a couple male gay friends.  “Gay” didn’t hold a place in my world.  I didn’t even think about it too much, until my boyfriend in 10th grade broke up with me.  Many others told me he was gay, but the thought of someone dating a girl and being gay did not compute.  When he confirmed these suspicions two years later, it unnerved me a bit. 
     After growing up North, I felt it my duty to be a staunch liberal at my tiny Southern college.  My views helped me become friends with most of the gay individuals on campus, including lesbians and gay men.  I joined the supportive gay group on campus, even becoming an officer for a short while.  Even still I held tightly to my straight-ness, even so much as to call my mother on Coming Out Day freshmen year and come out as straight. 
     Something that turned my world upside down happened the summer after my freshmen year.  My mother, an alcoholic, had been drinking and soon my family was embroiled in a deep discussion.  My mother blamed all her problems on my father.  I had been hearing this all my life, but never given any reason why, though when asked my father agreed.  My mother forced him to finally admit his transgression.  He cheated on my mother.  This was shocking enough as my father is highly principled and loving, but then he went on to repeat the two words I never thought he’d say: “with men”.  I did a double-take.  Surely, my father who had three kids and a wife couldn’t be gay.  Then I realized the atmosphere he grew up in and how perhaps he thought he could deny the truth to himself.  That night still stings in my memory.
     That upcoming year was the beginning of some doubts of my sexuality.  The crush I had all of freshmen year fizzled out soon in my sophomore year when I found out how dumb the guy was.  Combine that with another failed relationship with my best friend, J, which failed because I wasn’t attracted to J physically, and I was getting slightly nervous.  This was only made worse when in the sorority I joined I noticed I really enjoyed the company of a couple women over all others for no reason whatsoever.  I made every attempt to be in their company, but I simply thought I was acting this way because they were the older sisters I never had.
     Junior year was much of the same, though I found myself less intrigued by men.  I still enjoyed looking at the muscular figure of some men, but it didn’t excite me.  I found myself looking more at the women in my life, but I thought I was simply appraising their fitness and muscles in jealousy. 
     Senior year is when it really struck me that I might be attracted to women.  I had been good friends with this woman, M, for about a year and a half.  We hung out and I loved hanging out with her, more so than with many of my other good friends.  I didn’t think anything of it though until our senior years started and I began constantly thinking of her.  I wanted her advice and approval on everything.  I spent hours hanging out with her and when I couldn’t, I got sullen.  I would look for her in the dining hall, knowing the color of her jackets and her other friends’ faces.  Shockingly, I wondered what it might be like to kiss her and wondering what I would feel if I saw her naked body.  These thoughts deeply troubled me.  I was so convinced I was straight, that surely this couldn’t mean anything.
     As I pushed to become better friends with her, she pushed away.  We disagreed on what we each were putting into the friendship.  I felt I was trying and she wasn’t.  Other issues were brought up and soon after a blow out over email, we were no longer friends.  I was heart broken.  I found I couldn’t talk about anyone else.  I felt more pain from this break up than from not getting into medical school.  I chalked it up to the fact that I wanted everyone to like me and that losing a good friend is always hard.  A month after the break up I tried to make things better, but she was stubborn and it was clear we were done.  I thought she couldn’t feel the same way as I; she was engaged to a very nice man.  Even if she did feel anything, I liked her future husband too much to do that to him.  So I moved on.
     After years of doing little adventurous I decided to break out of my shell.  I went to a bonfire party with friends and started talking with this attractive man, G.  Soon we were in his tent and he was reading my future with tarot cards.  I really liked him.  He was funny and strong.  Heck he could even sing.  So even though we didn’t do anything in the tent, I gave him my phone number.  We texted back and forth and it was nice having someone care about me that way.  When we finally went on a date I was extremely nervous.  I wanted to flee, especially when we parted ways and he wouldn’t leave without kissing me goodbye.  He was in my opinion a good kisser, but I found myself vastly uninterested in the kiss.  I wondered to myself when it would be over.  Knowing this and that we were in different stages in our lives I broke things off with him quickly.  This chalked up another failure to be attracted to a guy. 
     I still wasn’t convinced however.  I clung to my last vestiges of straight-ness.  I didn’t want to be gay.  I have wanted to join the military as a doctor since I was 15, and with ‘Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell’ it was easier for me to abbreviate that to ‘Don’t’.  My best friend, J, and I had been flirting all summer and when he would visit me the tension was palpable.  I sunk into the familiarity and the comfort he offered, and when he visited for Thanksgiving I agreed to give the relationship an honest try.  This worked pretty well.  Until he who want to kiss me, then I simply played along. 
     I had never made out with a boy though, and I thought maybe this was my problem.  So I let J drag me onto the bed and we made out for about three hours.  I tried to get into the kissing in almost desperation, but the only time I felt comfortable was when I closed my eyes.  I knew then this relationship was doomed.  I broke things off with him two weeks later, and because he was so in love with me and probably had been since my freshmen year, we said we couldn’t be friends anymore.  So due to my instance I wasn’t gay, I lost my best friend.
     At least now however I have accepted the fact that I am a lesbian.  I now acknowledge that I have had mostly female celebrity crushes in the past few years and that the thought of having sex with a man disgusts me.  After getting turned on often by episodes of Xena and The L word, I have accepted I am sexually more attracted to females.  Or so it seems.  I have yet to find another woman that I am attracted to.  I certainly haven’t found any men, so for now I wait, to see who I might I fall in love with next.  I do not care what the gender is the person I fall in love with; I just want to be able to be happy and comfortable in a relationship.  But then I guess that’s what we all want, isn’t it?
     Only my closest friends know about my thoughts about my sexuality, and until I can figure it out more that’s how it’s going to be, especially since I still plan on joining the military.  But who knows?  ‘Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell’ might be repealed by the time I join.  Well one can hope.

 QBP: "Be who you are and say what you feel, because those who mind don't matter and those who matter don't mind." -Dr. Seuss