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?