Thursday, December 6, 2012

In high school, I had several Mormon friends.  In high school, no one was out as a gay person. At least not in my small social circle. Now, of course, almost everyone I was truly friends with in high school, including the male friend I went to prom with, has come out as gay, including myself.  Funny how that works out.

One of my Mormon high school friends was a "best friend." We talked every day, had lunch together, and ultimately, I attended the non-religious portion of her wedding celebration, as non-Mormons weren't allowed to witness the actual ceremony.  I say this just to highlight that we were close.

At this point, I haven't seen this friend in...probably 8 years? Maybe more.   All of our interaction now is via facebook, and from this, I know that she has 4 children, lives on the west coast, and fervently supported Mitt Romney.  I have not come out to her, but if you look at my facebook page these days, it's very, very obvious that I am gay.

Today, I posted a link on facebook to this picture of an older, interracial gay couple looking overjoyed together at the prospect of being able to get married in Washington state, after over 40 years together.

 This friend commented on the picture, saying something fairly off-color, I think, but I won't quote her here on the off chance that she somehow comes across this very gay blog. The point is that she clearly saw that I posted that picture, and that I was in support of what the picture represents--marriage equality. I commented back in a light-hearted way, in an attempt to not let her weird comment sour the post. Keepin' it light, and all that.

An hour later, she posts a link to this website: With no comment. Just a link.

She has NEVER posted anything about gay-ness on her page, and has never before commented on any of the many gay things I post regularly.  But she posts this today. And of course I clicked through.

And it made me sad, what I read. Here's a sample:

Attraction to those of the same sex, however, should not be viewed as a disease or illness. We must not judge anyone for the feelings they experience. Members of the Church who have same-sex attractions, but don’t act on them, can continue to enjoy full fellowship in the church, which includes holding the priesthood, carrying out callings, and attending the temple. Unlike in times past, the Church does not necessarily advise those with same-sex attraction to
marry those of the opposite sex. Same-sex attraction itself is not a sin, but yielding to it is. However, through repentance Jesus Christ will offer forgiveness.

And it goes on, and on, from there.

My reaction to this is confusion and sadness and anger and indignation.  Does this religious organization actually think that having a pastel-hued website for gay people, in which they calmly and lovingly say that it's okay if you're gay, as long as you live your entire life without ever having a sexual relationship, because you can't have sex unless your married, and oh, by the way, marriage is only for a man and a woman, but you can do it, we know you can, because this is your mortal test, and marrying someone of the same sex is morally wrong, and we know it's hard, but don't you worry, we love you!--do they really think that this is supposed to be a comfort??

Really!?? <<insert "Really!!???!! with Seth and Amy" gif here>>

I am baffled, and incensed, and very curious if gay Mormons read that website and are left with a sense of relief and support. I don't see how, unless they somehow fail to notice that between the pretty, well-written lines is an upsetting, depressing message of rejection and support of inequality.

I wonder what my high school friend thinks of this message. I assume that she supports it. I hope that I am wrong.

I would be very curious to hear others' reactions to this--feel free to comment.

Saturday, November 3, 2012


I did it.

I sent the email telling my parents I'm gay.  As I fell asleep last night I thought, "Maybe I can send that tomorrow. I think I'm ready." And this morning, after kissing Elle goodbye as she headed back to her place, I ordered some vacuum bags online (a TOP PRIORITY, believe me) and then I came out to my parents.

As I sat there staring at the email before I sent it, I felt the wave of panic and nausea and almost cried in...relief? terror? I'm really not sure. Then I almost laughed as I decided to send the email with the subject "Some news...". Yeah, it's Some News, alright.

I didn't even tell Elle I was going to do it. I think I didn't want to talk about it before hand, I just wanted to DO IT. I was feeling in a good place to do it after having talked with both my parents this week, particularly my dad, and after having been reminded that they're really not so scary. At least when talking to their presumed-straight daughter.  And earlier in the week, I had said that my "friend Elle" was staying over during the hurricane, and it SUCKED SUCKED SUCKED to say that. That moment hurt us both, and I think after that, I was kind of over not telling them. The pain of hiding had finally won out over the fear.

So it's sent.  I don't know if it was the right thing to do, to email them. But I won't see them in person until December, and I HATE the phone, and I'm reminded of my therapist's advice, to not try to guess at how I can make it better for them (which is what I've done for most of my life)--what's better for me in this situation? What was better for me was to write it down and send it out. So that's what I did.

And now I wait...

but with a little less weight on my shoulders.


Sunday, September 16, 2012


It's 1 am on Saturday night. I'm alone in my apartment. And I just had a bit of an emotional breakdown. Just for a few minutes. But it happened. And I think I needed it.

There's a lot going on right now.  Most pressing is that in the next 14 days I have to either let my current landlord know I'll be leaving here for at least another year, or that I'm peace-ing out by October 31. Most stressful is that I have the biggest paper of my life due in less than 3 months.  Most sad is that as I write this my mother is in Connecticut, sitting at the bedside of her older sister, who is dying.

I went and looked at an apartment today, seeing what my options are in my quest to move out of my current neighborhood, which is....loud. Too loud for me, at least.  I unexpectedly have a chance to move, which I thought I wouldn't have until at least a year from now, and so I set out to see if maybe I actually can.  The apartment that I saw today was...okay.  I think it's maybe a little bigger than my current place. Maybe. But it's definitely not as nice.  It would be quieter (probably) than my current place. But it's not as nice of an apartment.  This didn't really hit me until I was back here and realized---I have a NICE apartment. It's small, and this building is kind of dirty, and I really do hate this street, but.... My actual apartment? These 4 walls and huge bathroom that I get to call my own? Really. Fucking. Nice.  This was never so clear to me as it was after seeing that other apartment today.


So I'm sitting here, dazedly realizing that I probably am going to stay here for another year, as much as I bemoan my neighbors, and this street, and this neighborhood, and even though I just sold my car today so that I would have the money to move (also so that I would no longer have the headache of paying to have a car in New York)...and I start wandering around my little space, thinking about the things that I can do that I've been putting off, that I should really just DO if I'm gonna be here awhile. I looked at empty shelf space that could be filled with clutter-turned-thing-in-its-proper-place, and absent-mindedly went through one such pile.  I found a photo envelope with pictures in it that I'd forgotten I'd had printed before I moved in.  Pictures of my parents and my brother.  I had never taken them out of the envelope, had let them get buried in a pile of office supplies.  I looked at each of them for a long time, and felt...suddenly, and strongly, and all at once, sad, lost, alone, regretful.

I realized that I miss them. That I would like to see them, as much as I often feel that I don’t, really.  I marveled at how happy my parents look in that picture from their trip to New York a few years ago. How much my brother and I look alike--how that is still true, despite the years and years of pain and misunderstanding between us.  I cried for how far away from them I feel, how far away from them I am, how that’s exactly what I intended, and how it turns out it actually hurts a bit, to get what you want.  I felt a deep and sharp loss that startled me, and made me think of my mother, spending the weekend with her older sister, her sister who is slowly, yet quickly, dying of cancer.  How this is the…fifth (?) loss like this that she has endured. And how I can only guess at the pain she is in, and how I might never really know what she is going through, and how sad I am for her.  And I cried for my mother, and the fact that it took this long for me to realize how sad I am for her, losing another person she loves.  And I cried that she won’t let me in to her real life, her emotional life...and how I learned from her.

And then my tears were about all of my own fears and doubts and worries, that I apparently don’t let myself really feel as often as I think I do. Because it all came slamming through tonight.  And it hurts.  Life hurts.

I imagine you know what I mean.

Friday, August 31, 2012

What the fuck, world?

I've been feeling diffusely angry and discontent lately. There are many reasons for these feelings, not the least of which is that I'm on a deadline to finish my dissertation by December 6th. 

But today? Today these feelings of  utter despondence with this world were compounded by getting cat-called and harassed twice by male strangers in 3 minutes as I walked home from work today.  As I make the slow trudge home in 90 degree heat-- hungry, needing to pee, and feeling the early pangs of what apparently is some sort of pinched nerve in my lower back-- on two separate occasions, WITHIN THE SPAN OF THREE MINUTES, two different black men think that, likely because I am a black woman, they can express to me their opinion that I am attractive to them in some way. 

The first one walked right up next to me to inform me that I looked "very nice" and then kept calling things after me after I sped up and walked away from him.  The second man is a guy that seems to think we're friends because I walk past him often on my way to and from the subway.  I think this man has often informed me that he "likes my hairstyle" whenever I'm walking to the subway on a Friday night with my hair in it's nice, lesbian-y faux-hawk.  His comments without fail make me annoyed that I can't try to look nice without annoying assholes providing unsolicited commentary.  Today, however, as I walk by, he interrupts his conversation with his fellow loiterers to yell out at me "Hey! Lookin' good girl!" And then, as I refuse to acknowledge that I'm hearing him, "Black girl! Black girl! White girl! White girl! Black girl!" and so on.  I mean, first of all, what?? Second of all, ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME? 

Why is this the kind of bullshit that I have to put up with, most notably on days when I wear a dress or skirt.  I am left significantly more alone if I'm wearing pants.  It didn't matter that I was clearly tired and hot and minding my own business and DO NOT KNOW THESE PEOPLE. I was wearing a skirt and am female and one of few black people in this neighborhood. So of COURSE any other black man in the vicinity has every right to yell at me on the street.


And even before this bullshit happened, I was thinking what I've been thinking a lot lately: Not a single soul on this planet was popped into this world with their consent.  We are all here completely without our own choosing.  None of us had any choice to be born or not. And yet here we all are, plopped out into this crowded, hot mess of humanity, and having to find a way to make it through.  And as we try and try to survive, and do the right thing, and contribute to the world in some way, we are bombarded by idiots and victimized and stolen from and discriminated against.

It fucking sucks guys. And we all deserve better.

Friday, July 6, 2012

Out and In

With every passing day, I think about how I will come out to my parents.  And the fact that, with every passing day, I get closer to the day that I will come out to my parents.

I don't know exactly when I will, but I know that it's coming.

My relationship with Elle has made that a certainty. And that's a good thing.

A friend of mine recently became engaged to her girlfriend.  They proudly announced it on Facebook, with pictures of the ring, their smiling faces immediately afterward. And they were drowned in an outpouring of love and support from their Facebook and real-life worlds.

I am so happy for them.  And I am jealous.

Elle and I, in our young, green relationship, are hiding it.  Not from everyone. Our close friends know. The other gay people that we see socially, who we drink and dance and have fun with know.  Her brother even knows. But...Facebook doesn't. Our parents and families don't. And it feels so wrong, to not be able to post as our profile pictures an image of our shining, happy faces--together.  So wrong to not be able to casually or not-so-casually make plain, for all to see (if we want them to) our growing love for each other.  We know that it's happening, and that's the most important thing, but it feels so wrong, so unfair that the rest of the world, the rest of our worlds, doesn't know it too.

I almost wrote "the rest of our worlds can't know it too."  But that's the thing. They could know. But for both of us, we feel like they really, actually, can't.  I grapple every day with that. It feels like such hypocrisy and I am a big hypocrite.  I have fought so hard over the past year and a half to be me, to be the person I really am, and am constantly championing to others the virtue of being honest and authentic in life....yet I'm hiding a huge part of my life and myself from so many people.  And worse than that, leaving Elle out of the details I share with my family, when she is THE detail, feels unfair to her. Like I have to write her out. Like she's something to hide. Though she is everything, and everything I want to talk about. It stings.

Because I don't have to leave her out when I talk to my parents. I choose to.  Because I have NO IDEA how they'll react. And not knowing makes me scared.  My parents are southern, conservative people. But they love me. And they are nice people. So will they bend and adjust and accept me and my girlfriend? Me, their 30 year-old daughter with an ex-husband?








I'm scared.

But I'm also sick of being scared, and feel excited about the day when it's done. And I'm out.

And free.

Monday, July 2, 2012

So much to say

Hi folks.

I know it's been awhile.  There's  A lot of it really good. Elle and I are going strong.  But she started a new job, and I started trying to actually finish my dissertation,and there's been drama and stress and heartache in both of lives and we are both, to put it simply...


But there's a lot I want to write about, like the shock and pain and sadness of realizing what it's really like to be both out of and in the closet, how interesting it is for me to notice how very different (hopefully in a good way) I am in a relationship now, at 30, then I was in my twenties, and what it's like, and how hard it is-- for me at least-- to really let someone love me.  Apparently that's a hard one for me, folks, though I do feel lucky that that's my issue. In that I now have someone in my life who is challenging me to actually do that, to actually LET LOVE IN.

So, hopefully I'll get some of that written soon.  But I am here, and I'll be back.

In the meantime, I've been curious for awhile now to know who you, my lovely readers, are.  A few of you have commented already (hi Harper, Megan, MakingSpace!), but I know there are more of you out there, quietly reading (which I get, that tends to be my blog presence too).  I'd love to know who more of you are, and what led you to my little corner of the gay blogosphere. Say hi, won't you?


Saturday, May 26, 2012

Gay = OK! (or, I made a gay shirt, you guys!)

Hello dear readers!

As I was brushing my teeth a few days ago (which is usually when I do my best thinking), I thought "Gay=OK" and then I thought, "hmmmm, I haven't seen that on a shirt! It should be on a shirt! Is it on a shirt?"

I did some googling, and, no! It's not.

So, I made some! Pride's coming up, which is always a good time to wear shirts that sing the praises of glorious gayness, so some of them have "Pride 2012" on them (I didn't add a city so that anyone can wear them to any pride celebration!). I added a widget to the sidebar over there ---------->
and here's a link: Gay=OK store.


They're about $25-30 a pop, which includes 5 bucks coming back to me for "designing" them. Let me know (in the comments or using my "Contact Me" form) if you want a Gay=OK shirt but don't like the options available, I'd be glad to make some different ones, too!

I'm so curious to see if anyone other than me likes these--I know I'm buying a few for myself and the gf! (Also, more on that soon, I've got a lot of things to write about!)

Monday, May 14, 2012


So. I find myself in a relationship unlike any I've had before.  With a woman. I love her. Completely.

It happened slowly, but also quickly.

It is amazing.

It is terrifying.

I met Elle 3+ months ago through work.  We hit it off immediately, found each other hilarious, and liked all the same things.  She was the first (and only) person I felt comfortable officially coming out to in the office.  She then (sort of) came out to me.  We then began spending more and more office time together, talking, laughing, confiding.  But at first, as much as I wanted to move our friendship into the real world (and specifically into my favorite queer spaces), I said we had to wait until May, when her time in our shared office was over.  It was extremely frustrating, as we were becoming better and better friends, but I was scared.  Fresh off a horrible example of what can happen when you become close friends with colleagues and then are devastated and hurt, and then forced to face that devastation everyday thereafter, I felt like I couldn't take that risk, because I wouldn't be able to take it if it somehow blew up in my face.

But then my friend A helped me not to feel so scared (eternal thanks to her) and I shyly, but joyfully, invited Elle out with me and my friends for St. Patrick's Day in March.  I met her best friend. I was nervous about what they both thought of me, real me, out in the world, gay and corny and drunk and a terrible (if enthusiastic) dancer.

It was a wonderful night.  Especially once everyone else drifted home and we were left alone, the only two dancing in a half-empty bar until 2 (3?) in the morning. That night I realized my attraction to her, and that night I started to try to push it away.

From that day to this one, we have become best friends. We have told each other we love each other. We have watched (a LOT) of nerdy TV together.  We have shared things, intimate, painful things, about ourselves with each other.  We have cried together.  In the past 3+ months, I have let her in, shown her who I really am (often with her help and because of her constant, though baffling, interest and care), more than I have ever let anyone in before in my life.  I think this is the case for her, too, letting me know her, the real her, as no one else has.

It is so amazing, this love with her.  And it is so unexpected, and moving.  Who knew this kind of connection was possible? Who knew that it could happen for me?

It also makes me realize what my previous relationships were not.  I feel so safe with her. So safe and vulnerable, but delightfully so.  Only in comparison can I see that I have not felt this before.  I feel so delighted by her and she, somehow, feels the same about me.  We are so in sync, so comfortable, so caring.  It's startling, and beautiful, and scary. And we talk about all of those things.  Cry about them. Smile lovingly at each other.

And then we watch some Firefly (or...not, these days) and fall into each others' arms.


Sunday, May 13, 2012

On Directing

I'm working on a long post to explain the current state of my life, which is, in a word...amazing. But I'm not done with it, and right now my allergies are making me kind of slow and a little dumb, so it's not gonna get finished today like I'd hoped.  But I feel like I want to commemorate how I'm feeling today. 

How am I feeling today, you ask? Happy, scared, a little nauseous, distracted, turned-on.  In other words, in love.


It might seem sudden, but it's not really. And like I said, all will be explained, but for now, Tegan and Sara will help me sum up how I feel, right now, about....her. (Lyrics below.)

"On Directing"

You're directing me, your eyes focus like a microscope.
Get the cuts you need, eyes focus like a microscope.

Go steady with me, I know it turns you off when I - I get talking like a teen.
I get talking like a teen.

You're directing me. You're dressed up I lose my grip, my focus.
Make those eyes at me, I lose my grip, I lose my focus.

Go steady with me, I know it turns you off when I - I get talking like a teen.
I get talking like a teen.
Go steady with me, I know it turns you off when I - I get talking like a teen.
I get talking like a teen.

(Oh, oh, hold onto me)
You're directing me, your eyes focus like a microscope.
(Oh, oh, hold onto me)
Get the cuts you need, eyes focus like a microscope.
(Oh, oh, hold onto me)
You're directing me. You're dressed up I lose my grip, my focus.
(Oh, oh, hold onto me)
Make those eyes at me, I lose my grip, I lose my focus.

Go steady with me, I know it turns you off when I - I get talking like a teen.
(Talking like a teen)
I get talking like a teen.

Go steady with me, I know it turns you off when I - I get talking like a teen.
(Talking like a teen)
I get talking like a teen.

(oh, oh, hold onto me)
Go steady with me, I know it turns you off when I (oh, oh, hold onto me) - I get talking like a teen.
(Talking like a teen)
I get talking like a teen.

Go steady with me, I know (I know) it turns you off when I (oh, oh, hold onto me)- I get talking like a teen.
(Talking like a teen)
I get talking like a teen.
I get talking like a teen.  

Monday, May 7, 2012

Aqua Girl 2012: Reflections

Aqua Girl 2012. Four days of heat, crystal blue water, drinking, and lesbians. 

I was there.

It was overwhelming. Hot. Fun. Loud. Gay.

The things that struck me most about the weekend were:
  • The Diversity--There were women of every ilk at Aqua Girl.  All shapes, sizes, races, ethnicities, orientations.  It was quite beautiful, really. I loved it.
  • The Couples--There were so. many. couples! I wasn't expecting this.  Everywhere you looked, there were women holding hands, gazing adoringly at each other, just--being together.  I was shocked to find that I very much want that too, it turns out.  I was on this vacation, surrounded by beautiful single, gay women, and--I wasn't really interested in finding someone for a fling. (Or, a "Pride Girlfriend," as my new friend Jo called it.)  Nor did I try to.  I spent time with my friends, appreciated the view, so to speak, but--I didn't make a single move to hook up with some random girl.  Basically, it hit me over the head like a ton of brinks (or an ample bosom)--I want a girlfriend. Huh.
  • How Old I Felt--I am a good, some might say champion, drinker. I often joke that this is the most valuable skill I gained in undergrad. (But seriously, it kind of is.) So, I am a good drinker and this weekend was, at its core, about drinking like a champ.  And yet, I spent most the trip in the area between sober and mildly buzzed. I barely took advantage of the open bars I had access to as a VIP pass holder, and actually chose to skip the big Saturday night party--partly because I had terrible heartburn and cramps, but partly because I was feeling rundown and tired and didn't want to go to another fucking party, EVEN THOUGH I had dropped a lot of dough for it. Also, can I reiterate that I had heartburn? Heartburn! As of 1 year ago I had never had heartburn. Oy.
Exhibit B--At the final party of the weekend, we walked into the back room (where the dance floor was), and I immediately walked back out because the music was too loud.  All I needed was a cane to brandish and a patch of grass to shoo kids off of, and my transformation into crochety old woman would be complete.  It was SOOOOOOOO LOUD though! Like, the bass made my heart feel like it was going to bounce out of my chest. NO THANK YOU.
Add to all of this the fact that I just wanted to be sitting somewhere holding someone's hand who I loved (okay, and maybe having sex with them) rather than in that club in Miami that smelled unmistakably like last night's vomit and the case is closed.
I be old.

So, those are my initial thoughts on Aqua Girl.  It was fun, but I will definitely do it differently if I go back. For example, I'll probably go with my girlfriend next time.

Yeah...That'll be nice. Now I just need to find her.

Sunday, April 15, 2012

A month of texts with my mother

The following is approximately a months worth of texts from my mother. I'm clearing out my phone and need to get rid of this loooooooong conversation chain, but as I went to delete them, I couldn't bear to not record the absurdity of the way we communicate for posterity. [Feel free to skip this one, dear readers!]

Saturday, April 14, 2012

On Beauty

(Note: This post isn't about my lesbian exploits, and is instead about a bit of a revelation I had last week. It was weighty, and I therefore felt the need to write about it, so bear with me as I work some stuff out in this one.)

Last week, my new, but very dear friend A, along with another co-worker of mine, randomly started talking together, in my presence, about how beautiful they thought I was. They went on about it for a good 5 minutes, and I did NOT like it. It made me want to hide my face behind my scarf (which I think I actually did do) and go hide under my desk until they left me alone. I did actually run away in a sense, quickly leaving the common area of the office, where they were waxing poetic, and retreating into my own office, away from their complimentary gaze.

My reaction probably doesn't make much sense to you. But I need you to understand-I HATED that attention. I hated that they were saying such nice things to me. It made me EXTREMELY uncomfortable. I didn't understand my reaction either, but it is not a new one.

I've always had a hard time with compliments, especially about my physical appearance. I thought, up until last week, that this discomfort was due to my disbelief--"You can't possibly think I'm pretty! I'm...not!" I've always thought that my own negative view of myself was why I hated being told I looked nice, beautiful, etc. But then, A asked me later that night, as we had a few drinks to unwind from the day, why I had such a strong reaction to their admiration. And as I thought about how to answer her, the answer came to me, sudden and clear and absolute.

My mother.

I hate that it comes back to her. Such a cliche, right? But it's true. As I sat in that bar, the memories flooded in: my mother putting me in beauty pageants, but never telling me she thought I was beautiful, even when I was dolled up and perfect-looking, and winning those pageants. My mother taking us on surprise detours by her job when I was home visiting from college, so that her co-workers could "see" me. I would stand there sheepishly, in front of women I'd never heard of, who had no true interest in me, as they said to my mother "oh, she's so pretty! Oh, how lovely." My mother would smile and look proud, nod in agreement, and then we would leave. We would drive home, me feeling like little more than a show dog, well-behaved and quiet with its shiny coat, my mother feeling like she'd won some sort of prize.

And yet, even on my wedding day, the only indication I got that I was acceptable to her was when I asked, "do I look ok?" She might have said I looked beautiful then. I don't even remember.

So, then, why do I hate being told I am beautiful? As I sat with A last week, and remembered these things, and cried, it hit me: I hate it because that seems to be the one thing my mother admires in me that doesn't also hurt her (as does, for example, my assertiveness). That one shallow, surface thing, she can feel proud of and good about, and yet she has never even given me that one compliment willingly, and out loud.

But that's not the worst part. Yes, it hurts that others tell me I'm beautiful when my own mother never has, but the worse sting comes in all of the other ways people see me, know me, appreciate me, in ways that my mother never will. When a friend tells me that I'm nice, giving, smart, funny, it hurts. Because somewhere deep inside, as my ears hear praise and compliments, my heart says, "...and your mother doesn't even know."

Tuesday, April 10, 2012

SM update

Okay!  Let's catch up on the weirdness that is my "relationship" with SM! Yaaaaaay!

Alright, so that Friday night, I was super exhausted b/c I'd just gone to see the Hunger Games movie at midnight the night before (sidebar: doing that was unfortunately ill-advised and not worth it, and it took me like 4 days to recover, but I digress).

Anyway, I get home from work Friday, after arranging with SM that she'll bring the wine (clearly the most important aspect of the planning), and then I don't hear from at all and I look at my phone and it's like, 8:30. I think I told her she could come over anytime after...7? And she gave no indication that she wouldn't come around then. So I'm literally trying to send a text to my friend about how I am DONE with her and this is ridiculous and WHAT THE FUCK, but it's not going through and I'm confused because I have "bars" and it should be working. So I give up and start watching Big Bang Theory and pour myself some wine and am planning to fall asleep in the next 30 minutes. 

Then, my doorbell rings. Like, MY doorbell. Like, the door of my apartment.  Not even the door to the building. MY DOOR.

I open the door, and it's her. I was baffled and sputtering and ever-so-slightly annoyed to see her standing there. I say, "Oh! I was getting worried about you!" She says, "I texted you that I was on my way? and then I couldn't remember where you lived exactly, and I got off at the wrong stop, and I couldn't remember your apartment number, so I was out there buzzing for awhile and finally someone let me in..."


So she comes in, we sit at the table to talk, order some food and...I don't know. It was kind of awkward.  We didn't acknowledge much that it'd been so long since we'd talked, that there was so much that we weren't saying. Which I hate, of course.

Eventually we move to my tiny couch to watch a movie (The Change Up. I don't recommend it. We got through about 20 minutes of it. Blegh.)  We then switch to Dirty Dancing (ahhhh, much better) and at some point I move to touch her thigh as I'm emphasizing a point and I...don't. My hand screeches to a halt an inch above her leg and she looks at me and says, "You can touch my leg, you know!" I look at her skeptically. "Can I? I don't know what I can do with you anymore!" It's said half jokingly but the truth in it is clear.  She rolls her eyes and says "You can."


So from that point on we get a little more cuddly, with her ultimately laying with her head in my lap.  It was nice, cozy, familiar. But there was no kissing. No, touching. Just comfortable.

She slept over that night, but I was sooooooo exhausted, we just slept, though we slept topless. (I mean, come on, why waste the chance to cuddle up nice, you know?)

The next morning, she started kissing my back and making it pretty clear that she wanted to fool around so we...fooled around. It was....okay. I was sleepy, what can I say?

I remember telling her that she's beautiful (she is), she thanked me for having her over, I walked her to the door, we kissed goodbye, and she told me we'd talk soon (we haven't).

As I finish writing this long overdue post, it's been...almost 3 weeks since that night. We had achieved nice, hearty radio silence, and then on Easter sunday, she facebooks me "Happy Easter." Um....okay? I am not religious at all, and she knows that, so...I don't really know what that was about.

Anyway. That's that.

Wednesday, March 28, 2012


I'll write about what happened with SM soon, I promise, but first I need to write about what happened with SC.  Which is...well, not a lot really, but...I'm having feelings. So...Yeah.

Alright, so I saw her for the first time in awhile on St. Patrick's day.  The first thing she said to me, when we met a group of friends for brunch, was "You look so pretty," as I hugged her hello.  This surprised me and confused me, and honestly annoyed me a little. Why would you say that to me, SC? Why? What good will that do, you know?

Anyway, for the rest of that day, I felt like we were drawn to each other in a way that, again, surprised me. Maybe it shouldn't have, but it did. I found myself really wanting to talk to her, wanting to catch up with her, and it felt like she wanted to, too.  We walked together from brunch to our first bar stop, and it felt nice, and almost comfortable. Again, surprising. We renewed our bond over our shared love of The Hunger Games, and even impulsively ordered matching HG-themed t-shirts, along with another friend of hers.  It was fun and relaxed and I felt really good about the whole thing, and sad when she called it a night early. But I wasn't overly stressed out or tense or anxious, and I didn't feel like I was buzzing and off-balance as a result of spending all that time with her. It was fine. Fun.

I say all of that in order to draw a stark contrast between St. Patrick's day and what just happened last night.

I saw her for...oh, maybe 20 minutes, and I couldn't wait to get away because it felt so hard to be around her and I was completely thrown off by how completely charmed I continue to be by her and how smitten I still am with her and it made me want to jump out of my skin.

As I walked back home with a friend of mine who'd come along as I went to pick up the afore-mentioned Hunger Games t-shirt, the only way I could describe to her how I felt was...


It was super weird.  Not necessarily bad, but not necessarily good.

My friend was giving me major side-eye as we walked home, apparently because she had never seen me so thrown off. "I've never seen you when you're around someone you like," she said.  And I said, "..." and felt annoyed. Annoyed that I was so unexpectedly affected by her. Annoyed that I was affected by her at all.  Annoyed at how beautiful she looked, even in her sweats. Annoyed that I care.

So yeah. That happened.

Wednesday, March 21, 2012

Really funny. (Shouldn't be funny.)

The following is a text conversation I just had with SM, after not speaking with her since March 11.

Me: Randomly found your undies today. Let me know if you want me to mail them to you, stranger!

SM: hahah, totally forgot about those! are you?

Me: Yeah, it was awhile ago! I'm good...

SM:  I dunno what you're up to this weekend...wanna try to get together and catch up?

Me: Hmmm...yeah, sure, um...maybe Sunday? Or friday.

SM: You sound pissed or there something you want to say? I don't wanna hang out if you're gonna be pissed at me

Me:  ??? do I sound pissed? Come on, {name}, really?

SM:  I don't know! You throw me off with all those dots! This is why texting drives me crazy...forget I said anything...anyway, Friday?

Me: know I text like I talk!  But why do you think I should be pissed at you??

SM: I thought you might be because I haven't been around lately

Me: Ah...well, I assume you have your reasons! So Friday can work, wanna come over for dinner/drinking? I have {dog}, so would like to stay in

SM:  K sounds good!

SM: Talk to u Friday...Night!


Can you, dear readers, please tell me what your reactions are to this exchange? I'm really just finding the whole thing...ridiculous. Laughable. Pathetic. (The pathetic part is that I started the whole interaction.AND AM MAKING PLANS TO SEE HER ON FRIDAY.)

Le sigh.

Please, please feel free to offer your two cents in the comments! I need some input here!!!

Tuesday, March 20, 2012


Yesterday I signed the papers that dramatically move forward the process of divorcing my husband.

I cried.


Believe me, this was surprising to me, too.  And yet, there I was, handing the papers to my soon-to-be ex-husband, and getting teary.  We looked at each other, and were sad, and shared a hug.

Even though it's the absolute right thing, and I made the absolute right decision to leave that marriage, it's still so sad, really.  I've known him for a third of my life. We grew up, in many ways, together. And we'll still interact often (we share custody of our dog), and we say we'll try to be friends in the future this time next year, we will both officially be single, divorced (young) people.  It feels....heavy.  Major.



<insert other appropriate adjective here>

I really do feel both relieved that this is almost, officially, done, and also heartbroken that it's really almost, officially, done.

Thursday, March 15, 2012

February 24, etc--Masochist, I am a

Started writing this awhile ago and never finished it, oops.  But tonight I'm a little drunk and have other stuff to catch you guys up on now, woohoo! So, I want to get this one out there, as it is both important to document and annoying and I want to move the fuck on from it. Enjoy.


Ugh ugh ugh.

I hadn't seen SM since valentine's day. This was actually mostly okay with me, as I've been tired and busy and have pretty much only wanted to go to bed every day.


But then tonight i met a bunch of pp for karaoke. It was intentionally super lowkey and not the type of thing you had to come to or anything. No special occasion, no nothing. I just wanted to sing, so i went to a karaoke place. And i invited people to come if they wanted. Ok.

So, SM was always very interested in this activity and very interested in coming. Okay, cool, great. So she says she's coming. Then she comes 3 hours late. Why? Unclear. She was cagey. I think she talked to her mom? I don't know why else.

She looked pretty.

So she shows up, i immediately feel worried and guilty that she's being subjected to my absurd, loud, very intensely karaoke-loving (lovely) friends, and...yeah. so she talks to my bff a bit, i continue to sing my little heart out, and eventually she says, "i think i'm gonna go..."

I immediately feel myself getting hot and flushed, a sure sign that my subconscious mind can feel something messed up about to happen. And happen it does.

“Oh, okay, so you wanna go soon? We just have a few more songs coming, then i'm good..." I say. "Well, i don't want to take you away from your friends...but i'm just so tired, i think i'm just gonna go," she says.

I'm surprised, a bit stunned, starting to feel hurt, rejected, confused. The usual.

"O....kay?" I say, not able to completely hide my confusion.

"Yeah, I'm just...really tired..."

"Okay, well....we can totally just go home and go to bed, I mean, we do that sometimes, that's totally fine...." I say. I say this not because I pretentiously assume that she wants to go home with me, but because there have been maybe TWO times that we have met up and not gone home together. Two. Okay, maybe 3.

Anyway, she says, "No, I think I'm just gonna go now." Because I can't handle how passive and vague she's being, I have to ask her, "Are you saying you want to go home? Or you want to go home alone?"

She hems and haws and eventually mumbles, "Yeah, that's what I said, I want to sleep in my bed by myself, blah blah blah." So I tell her, "Okay! That's totally fine!" smile sweetly and take deep breaths, and she leaves.

It wasn't totally fine. It was weird and ridiculous the way that she "handled" the situation. In that she didn't really handle it at all and after not seeing her for almost 2 weeks she showed up, acted weird, and then wanted to flee. It felt like she didn't want to see me, after all that time, and after we'd been getting so close. What the hell?

About 15 minutes later, as I'm rehashing what had happened with her with the table, she comes back in. She'd left her bag on the floor between our seats. She sheepishly says "You got me so flustered that I forgot my bag!" I hand it to her, she leaves again. I GOT HER SO FLUSTERED?? Is she fucking kidding me? Honestly.
The next day, as I'm lying face down on my best friend's couch bemoaning how annoying SM is and how I don't understand how I keep getting myself entangled with her like this, she texts me. "I'm sorry about last night."


We then have a long-pause filled text conversation where I say something like "It's fine to want/need nights to yourself, you could have just said that, and it's confusing when you don't tell me what's going on with you." She says "There wasn't anything else to tell, I was just tired. I thought about not coming, but I didn't want to disappoint you." I say "I'm a big girl, you could have just told me." She says "Okay, I'll talk to you later."


A few days later I decide to just fucking acknowledge that she's pulled away and that I've noticed it.  So I gchat her "Hey, not sure when I'll see you again, so I just wanted to acknowledge that you seem to have majorly pulled back since Valentine's Day, and I just wanted to ask you what's up and find out where you're at with...whatever's going on with us."

She immediately responds that she did pull back and she's sorry and it was unintentional, she's just been really busy with school and guesses she needed some space. I say Okay.  A few days later she asks me if I want to do something that weekend. But I'm already booked, and tell her so. And I felt angry as I talked to her. Then I didn't talk to her for another week. Then I'm reminded on Facebook that she's heading on her Spring Break trip, which she talked to me about planning months ago. So I text her that I hope she has fun on her trip. She then texts back "Thanks! See you when I get back :) "

Um. A bit presumptuous, no?

Honestly, I am soooooooooooo done with her.

Except that other than these cyclical shenanigans, I like her. And she has amazing breasts.

Wow. So gay. Oh, and also, did I mention...masochistic?


mas·och·ist [mas-uh-kist] noun
1. a person who is gratified by pain, degradation, etc., that is self-imposed or imposed by others.
2. a  2. a person who finds pleasure in self-denial, submissiveness, etc.

Sunday, February 26, 2012

Best for Last

It's amazing how Adele's songs always sneak up on me with their perfection, and relevance.  Yesterday it was Best for Last (written by Adele), a song that I have of course heard countless times, but somehow only really heard yesterday.  

Read on, and know that this is pretty much my life right now...

Wait, do you see my heart on my sleeve?
It's been there for days on end
And it's been waitin' for you to open up
Just you baby, come on now, I'm trying to tell you just how
I like to hear the words roll out of your mouth finally
Say that it's always been me

That's made you feel a way you've never felt before
And I'm all you need and that you never want more
Then you'd say all of the right things without a clue
But you'd save the best for last like I'm the one for you

You should know that you're just a temporary fix
This is not rooted with you, it don't mean that much to me
You're just a filler in the space that happened to be free
How dare you think you'd get away with tryin' to play me

Why is it every time I think I've tried my hardest
It turns out it ain't enough, you're still not mentionin' love?
What am I supposed to do to make you want me properly?
I'm takin' these chances and gettin' nowhere
And though I'm trying my hardest you go back to her
And I think that I know things may never change
I'm still hopin' one day I might hear you say

I make you feel a way you've never felt before
And I'm all you need and that you never want more
Then you'd say all of the right things without a clue
But you'd save the best for last like I'm the one for you

You should know that you're just a temporary fix
This is not rooted with you it don't mean that much to me
You're just a filler in the space that happened to be free
How dare you think you'd get away with trying to play me

But, despite the truth that I know
I find it hard to let go and give up on you
Seems I love the things you do
Like the meaner you treat me the more eager I am
To persist with this heartbreak runnin' around
And I will do until I find myself with you

And make you feel a way you've never felt before
And be all you need so that you never want more
Then you'd say all of the right things without a clue
And you'll be the one for me and me the one for you


Sunday, February 19, 2012

On Cynthia Nixon's "choice to be gay"

This post is a few weeks late, but oh well. Let's just go with it.

On January 19, the Times posted a profile of Cynthia Nixon.  Here's an excerpt from the article:
“I totally reject [the idea that her change in sexual orientation is somehow a lie],” she said heatedly. “I gave a speech recently, an empowerment speech to a gay audience, and it included the line ‘I’ve been straight and I’ve been gay, and gay is better.’ And they tried to get me to change it, because they said it implies that homosexuality can be a choice. And for me, it is a choice. I understand that for many people it’s not, but for me it’s a choice, and you don’t get to define my gayness for me. A certain section of our community is very concerned that it not be seen as a choice, because if it’s a choice, then we could opt out. I say it doesn’t matter if we flew here or we swam here, it matters that we are here and we are one group and let us stop trying to make a litmus test for who is considered gay and who is not.” Her face was red and her arms were waving. “As you can tell,” she said, “I am very annoyed about this issue. Why can’t it be a choice? Why is that any less legitimate? It seems we’re just ceding this point to bigots who are demanding it, and I don’t think that they should define the terms of the debate. I also feel like people think I was walking around in a cloud and didn’t realize I was gay, which I find really offensive. I find it offensive to me, but I also find it offensive to all the men I’ve been out with.”
A few weeks later, a friend of mine directed my attention to Nixon's comments, and I said to her, "Wow, I've actually said that exact thing before. 'Gay is better.' It really is! I totally understand where she's coming from."

Then, not a day later, another friend directed me to an article by Lindsay Miller, written in response to all of the criticism Nixon received after the Times piece ran.  I literally got chills reading her words.  So much of what she wrote has either literally passed through my lips in this past year as I have worked to explain my change in sexuality to my friends, old and new, or so closely parallels my own thoughts about sexuality and where I fit in to it all that I was...stunned. And moved.  I really understand where Lindsay Miller is coming from.  To wit:
So what difference does it make whether or not I call myself bisexual? My story and my life are too complicated to be summed up and dismissed in that one little word. What is crucial to me is that I chose the relationship I’m in today, and I chose to align myself, personally and politically, with the lesbian community. If I’m a bisexual, I’m a bisexual who is only interested in dating or sleeping with women. I’m a bisexual who thinks John Barrowman is insanely beautiful, but has zero interest in putting any part of my body on any part of his body. I’m a bisexual who would rather lick a clitoris than literally any other activity in the world. I’m a bisexual who is practically indistinguishable from a great big lesbian. 
I’m not saying that homosexuality is a choice for everyone. Obviously, it isn’t. But for those of us whose sexual attraction is fluid, or shifting, or somewhere in the middle, or directed towards people who are not unambiguously men or women, devoting ourselves exclusively to same-sex partners can be a choice—a choice many of us make joyfully and with our eyes wide open. What’s so scary and infuriating about that?
Preach, Lindsay. Preach.

Here's a link to the article again: My Love, My Choice: On Cynthia Nixon and Why Gay is (Sometimes) Better. That's how much I really hope you read it. It's long. And it's really good. And it's kind of....well... me.

aaaaand we're back

uuuuuuugh, it begins again.

I spent most of today wondering what I had somehow done that had led SM to abruptly stop communicating with me today.


this morning we were texting, sharing details about our nights (mine involved one of the most ridiculous queer parties I've ever been to, hers an apparently painful production of the Vagina Monologues).  After a bit of back and forth, she asks me who I was out with, I answer her, silence.

Nothing. All day.  What's going on???

Much later, this afternoon, I texted to ask her what was going on with a fight she's in with her not-supportive-of-lesbianism mother, something we've been talking alot about.


So now here I am, back where I'm most comfortable, it seems, wondering, waiting, and confused as hell.

Thursday, February 16, 2012


SM asked me out both for the night before Valentine's Day and for Valentine's Day proper.  Monday night we went and saw Melissa Ferrick at City Winery with two of her besties who also happen to be one of the most adorable lesbian couples I've ever had the pleasure of knowing who I also really enjoy hanging out with because they are hilarious and nice and funny. We all got too drunk and stayed out too late and then SM and I came back to my place and had a little sex and it was an incredibly fun night. So much fun. (Even though I didn't so much love the concert proper.  Melissa Ferrick's banter leaves much to be desired. City Winery's a great venue though. Lots of candlelight and sexy ambiance.) I miraculously get up and get to work on time the next day, and get a text from SM in the afternoon naming the place she'd like to take me to for dinner.  We meet there, and it's GREAT. The food was incredible, and we had great conversation and a really nice time.  And then we went back to her place and fell asleep by 10 pm.

No seriously, that's what happened. It was pretty cute, actually.

We talked about a lot of stuff during those two days, some of which is pretty enlightening in terms of where her head's at/has been at in the past in terms of us dating and what that means and how she feels about it, but I'll write about that later.  It's late, and I'm tired, but I wanted to give an update--I can't believe it's been over a week!

I guess that's what happens when you get a job. And still go out too much.

Ugh, reality, you cruel, cruel vixen.

(Wow, I almost forgot. SC and friends were at City Winery too.  I know, right? Of course they were. And SC was in my line of sight pretty much the entire night. Could've done without that.  It was weird though. I didn't want to be with her, and it didn't change how I was with SM, but I was aware of her.  And...annoyed, perhaps, that she was there? I think that's it.  I'm not quite sure, but I know that it was a nice surprise to not care that much that she was there while I was there, having a great time with SM, who seems, at least, to pretty much adore me. I think it was a nice reminder that I deserve so much better than the bizarre, fickle, will-she-won't-she treatment that SC doles out to me.  And I can always use a little reminder of that.)

Wednesday, February 8, 2012

Dating...I think

Things with SM seem to be picking up.

In the past 2 weeks I've seen her a lot.  At a party she took me to, she introduced me to some of her friends as "her girlfriend" and didn't try to hide the fact that she did from me.  Her explanation was that it was just easier than explaining to people whatever it is we are, but a friend pointed out to me that she could have just said we were dating, which we are. So...why did she use the g-word?

We've had long brunches and talked about our families.  We've cuddled and snuggled and watched TV together.  She's let me put my cold feet under her to warm them up.  She's told me that there are times when she wants to come over after a long day, just to sleep next to me, because she "likes sleeping next to me."  I found this amazingly sweet, and also...intense? But I liked it.  Earlier this week, I was missing her and invited her over after work, and even though she couldn't come until after 9, I told her I still wanted her to come, and she still came. And she looked pretty in her work clothes.  And it was nice and cozy and we talked and laughed together and had amazing sex and we both got up early the next morning and went to work/school.  Like how girlfriends do.


Thursday, February 2, 2012

Pink is for girls.

In the early 1900s, pink was considered a color for boys.  Wikipedia quotes an article from a 1918 trade publication as saying; “The generally accepted rule is pink for the boys, and blue for the girls. The reason is that pink, being a more decided and stronger color, is more suitable for the boy, while blue, which is more delicate and dainty, is prettier for the girl.
This is the first paragraph of a really great post on a really great blog I've discovered, Undercover in the Suburbs.

I added the bold lettering myself, just to further highlight the absurdity of the way our society constructs and makes shit up, specifically around gender identity and roles. Pink was seen as a stronger, "more decided" color than blue, and was therefore assigned to boys, since, of course, they were assumed to be stronger than girls. (Of course we call bullshit there.) But, the thing that really gets my goat is that, somewhere along the line, however things got flipped around--making pink the "girly" color--with the switch, the perception of pink being "stronger" vanished, likely because it was now associated with being a girl, and therefore, by definition, signified inferiority and daintiness.

True story: when I was younger, I actively rejected my affinity for pink because of its association in our society with "girliness" which I, as a teenager, equated with being overlooked and invalidated.  I often felt invalidated and overlooked due to my gender as it was, and didn't want to make it even harder to be taken seriously by having PINK STUFF--oh, the horror.  Sad, right? Yeah.  A part of me still feels that way, and now, at 30, I carefully choose how much pink to allow myself. Le sigh.

I'll stop here, and direct you to go read the original post, both because it is well written, and because my brain is still fuzzy from flu-ness.

Go forth and be feminists, my friends.

Wednesday, February 1, 2012


Oh, she apologized to me, btw.

SC, that is.

The day after I took her off my gchat list and changed my fb profile pic so that I wasn't seeing her face all the time (I, as did she and my two besties, had as my profile pic a rather adorable shot of all of us taken at New Year's Eve), she chatted me a response to the last thing I'd said to her when we had attempted the day before, rather unsuccessfully, to resolve things a bit between us. I had asked that she stop reading my blog, and that next day, she messaged that she would stop reading it. That she understood that it was my space to process things.  (Let the record show that I suggested that she stop reading it when I started writing about her. She kept reading it anyway. I doubt that this helped things much.)

Then she said that she had meant what she said to me, when she said she had feelings for me.  But that she was sorry she said anything, because she's not ready to deal with a romantic relationship, and that it was really messed up (she actually said "cruel," which I agree with, honestly) to open that door when she wasn't really ready to.


So we'll see what happens. I hope we're able to get back to some sort of friendship. We used to talk (gchat, whatever) all the time, and now we...don't.  I mean, she's still funny, and smart, and witty, and political, and obsessed with pop culture things, and I still want to talk to her, you know?


Monday, January 30, 2012

how many?

So, I'm battling the flu and am admittedly a bit doped up on cough syrup right now, but...

I just had a sad thought.

I already crossed paths with one person in my life who loved me enough to want to marry me.  Though, yes, that relationship was ultimately not right for either of us, the point is that there was someone out there, whom I happened to meet, who WAS WILLING TO SAY "I WILL BE WITH YOU ALWAYS".  Which is a fucking crazy thing to say, you know?

But so, I just thought, what if that's it? What if that's all I get? I mean, how many people can you possibly be fortunate enough to meet in your life who get to know you enough AND can tolerate you enough to love you like that? How many?

I'm not even sure I'd want to get married again, but that's really not the point. The point is, HOLY SHIT WHAT IF THAT WAS IT?


Friday, January 27, 2012

Second date

(Note: This post is somewhat cheeky. It makes it seem like I'm over whatever happened/didn't happen with SC. I am not.  I'm just trying to not dwell and obsess about it because there's no point to doing that. It was confusing and hurtful and I'm pretty sure that somewhere in there I got fucked over for no discernible reason, but I'm trying to just get on with things.  I have it on good authority that *I* did not actually fuck this one up. So I'm gonna hold onto that and move the fuck on. Here we go.)

so, apparently SM went on date #2 with someone she met on OKCupid last night.

I actually don't really think I care about this. In fact, I was texting with her and was like "oooooh, who is it? what's the dish?" and actually wanted to know! I don't feel jealous, just curious.

But of course, SM freaks out at the slightest hint that there are any feelings of any sort happening anywhere around her, so she sends me this slightly panicky text about how "maybe we don't need to talk about this stuff" and should just be "honest with each other when things come up." um.....okay? I really have no idea what that means, but, I'll roll with it.

Just give me your boobs in my face. I'll be fine.


Thursday, January 26, 2012

Fast Forward we skip ahead to today.

I wrote a lot between my last post and today, but...I'm not going to post those.

Things with SC didn't work out. They didn't really even start. This is sad to me. Possibly sad to her? I'm not really sure.  It's all pretty confusing.


So now we'll maybe try to be friends. She said she wants to be friends. I guess I also want to be friends....though it was certainly easier to just be friends when I thought that she didn't like me like that (oh, good, I'm 11) but maybe she doesn't actually. Who the fuck knows.

Basically I feel like I somehow got sucked up into a tornado of complete uncertainty but didn't actually know it until it spit me out a few weeks later and I realized that what I thought was Up was...perhaps diagonal.

so basically, I feel like a crazy person. The jury's still out. I'll let you know.

January 15, 2012--unknowns

I have such a hard time with unknowns.

My entire relationship with SC right now is an unknown.

As you might imagine, I am having a hard time with this.

I'm worried that as we spend this weekend apart she's slowly realizing she made a mistake by opening the door to us trying to date.

I'm worried that she's like "HOLY SHIT that girl is so clingy and weird, ew ew ew!"

But then I'm like, "but SHE'S the one who said she could MARRY ME and MOVE IN WITH ME."

And SHE'S the one who was just as excited as I was to make out and cuddle and actually talk about how we feel about each other.




But I feel like I need to say to her, "Are you sure? Is it okay that I like you so much? Am I going to scare you away because I like you? But, don't you like me so much too? How do we do this without freaking out??? Is it okay that I want to talk to you and ask you questions and tell you random things that I'm thinking and kiss you alot?? Is that okay??"

On the one hand I feel like maybe it's a bad sign that I feel so nervous about this. But on the other hand, it's not so much that I'm nervous in a bad way? I'm just eager. So eager to get to know her. REALLY KNOW HER. I'm so excited. She's really so brilliant and lovely. I hope she let's me tell her that. Every day.

January 13, 2012--little moments

I went to see her tonight. Just for a little bit. Ostensibly to return some stuff she'd left here, but really so that I could get in one more hug, one more kiss, now that I can (ohmygod, now I can) before she goes out of town for the weekend.

Her roommate was home.

Her roommate is never home.

Oh, the annoyance, I cannot even begin to put words to it.

So we mostly sat in the living room, her roommate between us, and watched TV.

Then I kept her company in her bedroom, with the door wide open (oh, the agony) while she packed for her trip.  It was frustrating. She's so cute. I just wanted to squeeze her. I could not.

Then we came back out and watched some more TV. We shared a few looks, some half smiles, some smirks. I noticed how pretty she is. I bet she doesn't even know.

Then, blissfully, her roommate went to pee (wow, if I had a nickel...), and we stole a few kisses and shared a long hug and it was very sweet and I was sad to leave. I just wanted to sit beside her and hold her hand. That's all. I feel like I could spend days and days just doing that with her.


I'm excited and scared to see what happens next...

January 12, 2012--Doubt

So....apparently, she doesn't believe that someone (me) might be completely infatuated with her.  I now know this because she was shocked and somewhat appalled by the idea that I have talked about her at length with my two bffs here in the city. She literally said "that is insane" when I told her that I have talked so much about her with them.  I actually don't think she gets how much I like her. I don't think she knows at all.  It's kind of sad really.

So I told her that I think she's so delightful and that she completely "fucked my shit up" (LOL) so she should be proud of that. She didn't know how to take that. It just makes her more adorable to me. I just want to hug her always.

Maybe she'll let me.

January 10, 2012-- Wow.

I still can't really believe that last night happened.

SC just left my apartment. 

She spent the night.

Last night we both professed our mutual strong "like" for each other. And it was amazing and surprising and disorienting and I'm really not sure what to do now.

It's like this thing I've been wanting since October has finally happened and now I'm a little paralyzed. with fear, maybe. Like, now I'm gonna mess it up. Now what? Oh shit. Like that.

She said to me last night, with the help, I think, of a little liquid courage, the following (I paraphrase loosely): "I basically feel like I would move in with you, could be married to you, like now, but....I couldn't date you."

This was the start of the amazing, potentially world-changing conversation that led to us making out furiously, and deciding that we're gonna date, secretly, and see what happens for a little bit because we're both terrified of messing up the dynamic of our amazing group of queer friends.  We realized that one of the main things keeping us away from each other is that shared concern, which we then realized was SUPER ANNOYING and also, were we being stupid?  We confessed that there have been countless moments of shared, but privately experienced, frustration at not being together, she told me that she would find herself staring at my lips for long stretches, that she's been wanting to kiss me for soooooo long. That she would talk to me about other people she was dating to make me jealous.  All things that I wished were true but didn't dare believe might be.

She told me that it does throw her a bit how recently I left my marriage, how recently I changed my life, but also, how very, very gay I am, despite all of that.  We talked a bit about how, though I feel that the right thing, in theory, for me is to date around, be casual with several people, all I've really been doing since October is waiting for her. I literally said this to several of my friends over the past few months, and yesterday I admitted it to her. I've been waiting for her. I have.

As we were hugging and kissing and smiling sappily at each other, there was so. much. happiness. And "ohmygod"s and "ugh, i just---ah!", i.e. random exclamations of excitement and wonder at the fact that this was actually happening. Oh my god, it actually happened.

We tried to start hammering out last night the details of "what now." Do we still go on dates with other people? What do we do when one of us inevitably starts freaking out that we're actually trying this? Can we help each other avoid "u-hauling" it (something she feels she has a tendency to do)? OMG, HOW WILL WE (mostly I) KEEP IT A SECRET!?  But I think it's good to keep it a secret for a minute--I mean, we have no idea how WE are going to handle this new...thing, let alone how our friends will react, even if everything goes swimmingly. It's going to change things either way, though.


Wednesday, January 25, 2012

January 9, 2012--well. okay, then.


Friday night I texted SM, asked her what her plans were that night, since I was planning to go out with my bf, and figured maybe it'd be nice to see her. We texted back and forth a bit, and ultimately made the plan for bf and I to meet up with her before heading to Henrietta Hudson to dance it up.  

So we met up, she was adorable per usual, we took some shots (which I later forgot about when I then had MANY MORE SHOTS) and headed out.

I don't remember much of what happened next (see the above mention of MANY SHOTS), other than that at some point SM and I were talking about what it is that we're doing, and I think I asked her, " this...okay? what we're doing? This hanging out and having sex and what not?" And she said, "I think it's okay, if we're okay with it..." And I said, "I'm okay with it..." and then we made out.

And then....then she came back to my place, and she wanted to wear my strap-on.  (Yes, I have a strap-on. Yes, that should get its own post. I'm on it.) So I remember putting it on her, and it being really hot, and then she fucked me with it.

This was unexpected and enjoyable.

It was soooooooo hard leaving her in my bed the next morning (I had to head to NJ). But, it was also empowering, as I don't remember there ever being a time, when we were actually dating, when she begged me to stay, begged me for 5 more minutes, looked at me with as much desire in her eyes as she did that morning as I kissed her and left her.

And to all of this I say: well, alright! Game on.

(Note from the future: The experience of posting my life on this blog is so surreal right now. I'm almost caught up to my present-day life, thank god, because it's a bit of a mind fuck to be reading about my life ONLY TWO WEEKS AGO and being like "LOL, yeah and then EVERYTHING CHANGED THE NEXT DAY." It's a bizarre experience, people. So yeah, basically EVERYTHING CHANGED the day after I wrote this. But I'm not ready to post that one yet...stay tuned.)