To The FemmeMobile! Away!











{April 27, 2010}   Gay rodeo! And navel gazing!

Last weekend I went with Q to the gay rodeo!

I totally hotlinked this image, but if you click the image and scroll down you can BUY THIS SHIRT.

It was truly awesome. I was the camera bitch, and Q and her two friends, J and J (not that this is going to get confusing) rode bulls. Actually, J rode one bull but cracked her skull on the ground (poor J!) and J did shoot dogging with steers. I took pictures of all three of them, and video, too, and made friends with all the other gays there AND EVERYONE ASSUMED I WAS GAY. I didn’t have to come out once! Woo hoo! It’s a nice break. πŸ˜€ Also, I took my dogs and they were THE BEST DOGS EVER. I love my dogs.

Aren’t they cute? (See photo. Somehow, I can’t get the two to be side by side. :()Β  I gave them bully sticks to chew on. Made out of bull tendon. I thought it was appropriate. People ride bulls – bulls win – dogs ultimately win by EATING BULLS. (Every time I take my dogs somewhere like this, I have to laugh. I have a pit bull and a 116 pound shepherd. Even my dogs are butch. *amused* At least until people get to know them…)

I also was able to talk to a lot of the other people watching, and that was fun. πŸ˜€ Now I get to navigate trying to make friends without giving a too-interested impression. Hmm.

Anyway, did I mention Q rode a bull? Three of them, in fact! But concussion-J got the video of the two last rides, so I only got the first one, which she didn’t yet have practice at. 😦 Still, how many people can say they got on a bull in the first place, right? RIGHT! Check it out! πŸ˜€

I cut off too quick (my camera is a little twitchy) but you get the idea. (Her grin as she turned around was probably the best part, though! Of course, then I wouldn’t have been able to show you guys, ’cause she’d be identifiable, but still!) THEM’S BUTCH POINTS, RIGHT THERE.

Later Q was OMG sore, and I nearly killed myself laughing at all the bruises, road rash (bull rash?), whimpering noises, and limping around. I’m sweet like that. I come by it honestly: any time I came off a horse, it was met with laughter by the woman who taught me to ride. πŸ˜‰ (But I also gave Q back and leg rubs and tiger balm and anything else I thought might help, so I win back some femme points. ;-D)

(Also, the road rash? FREAKIN’ HILARIOUS. Not because it was road rash, per se, but because she was so flabbergasted by it. Mwahahaha.)

I met a lot of cute butches and some fun femmes, and I found no one I was attracted to other than Q. It’s kinda sad, really. There’s one butch, S, who asked me if we were going to a local bar with them and who later (via facebook) invited me two stepping this week, and this is where I need to tread carefully. I’m not as good yet at reading flirt signals from other gays, and that’s a terrifying statement since I suck at reading them from straights, too.Β  In the few minutes I had a chance to talk to her, she seemed like a lot of fun. I wasn’t remotely romantically interested in her, but I could see hanging out and being buddies. I could use some more friends around here. (I have… two. Not counting Q, who is more-than-a-friend.)

New ground to tread on. I would say it’s annoying, having to re-learn all this stuff, but I never learned it very well in the first place, so… *shrugs*

Anyway, being surrounded by all these people (mostly butches, the occasional gayΒ  man, and I think two femmes — thoughΒ  one might have been straight, actually) NONE of whom I was attracted to made me think again about what I AM attracted to. I often say I feel like I steamroll people, and that’s sort of true. Except, really, if I see that I’m likely to steamroll someone I either stop hanging out with them or just don’t do it, depending on how much I like them. And most of the time, I tend to hang back and follow other peoples’ lead anyway. But… Well, take J, for example. J is butch, really adorable-rapidly-becoming-handsome, shy, intelligent. I like J. I’ve enjoyed hanging out with J. I kind of want to throw my arm over J’s shoulders and tell the world to back off, this is my buddy (or would be if I knew him better). I would never ever ever date J, because I would steamroll him. I don’t steamroll him, because I like him and I’m not a bitch, but if J and I were ever to hang out together, I have a hunch I’d end up taking the lead fairly consistently — something I’m fine with in a friendship, but not something I enjoy doing with someone I’m dating, and yet I’m more likely to do with someone I’m dating than with a friend.

But it’s more than that, too. I look at S, for instance, and I think — would I steamroll her? I don’t know. I don’t know her that well, I don’t get the impression she’s a pushover, but my gut reaction is “steamroll,” even though when I stop and think about it I’m not sure that’s true. There’s a type of person, a very laid-back type, that I can’t necessarily steamroll but that still falls into that category for me. I’m not sure I can explain it except by analogy. So, here we go!

When I think of myself, I think of birds and kites. Racing with the wind, swooping and diving here and there, rarely still, full of highs and lows, zipping from one interest to the next. Now, if I’m going to tie myself to someone — that is such a perfect phrase — that someone had better be able to (you ready for this?) keep me there. No, not keep up. Don’t get me wrong: I want someone who will go out and do things, who can keep up on a fitness level. But on energy levels, if you tie two birds (or two kites) together, they end up yanking each other all over. Neither ever gets a rest because the other is goading them on. They aren’t likely to fly together; more likely they’ll fly apart and get yanked back together, crashing hard. They might have a lot of fun twirling around, but they’re going to burn out.

Okay. So I don’t want another bird. But most people, I find, are a bit like flowers. Or bushes (thorny ones, if you’re butch and you prefer that. *grins*). If you tie a kite to a flower or a bush, that kite could very well get swept up in a strong, exciting wind and yank that poor little plant right out of the ground, dragging it along and bruising it in the process. You have to be very careful what you tie a kite to, and the bigger the kite gets the stronger the pull.

DK was like a tree. I could yank and yank and it didn’t pull her out of alignment. I could get swept up in the exciting windy things and I didn’t fly away. I might flutter around like a mad thing going, “Look at this! And this! And this! AND OMG THIS!” but I didn’t drag her over, and I always stayed nearby. I could bash into her and tangle in the branches and she didn’t bruise, didn’t fall over, just put me back out and away I went again.

S felt like a tree, too, but more like a newly rooted sapling. Maybe someday she’ll be an oak, or maybe she’ll always be a slender willowy tree, able to bend with the wind and not break, changing as she needs to — but still something I could yank out of the ground if I got too caught up.

I have never dated anyone who wasn’t some form of energetic tree or rock, and a solid one at that. Q is new for me: occasionally I tell people she’s a lot like me, and it’s a little weird. It is a little weird, because she doesn’t have that tree/rock quality. She’s higher energy. I don’t feel like two birds tied together — unless it’s more like tying up a sparrow and a hawk (and hoping one doesn’t eat the other. Oh wait, we’re gay! Just pretend like it’s a pun, then. :D). She feels more solid than I do to myself, less with the fluttering and dashing and more with the single-direction-moving. Racing leaps and stops, and while she stops I go back to fluttering around. And yet, there’s that same quality — that I can flutter and race and dash, and I’m not going to knock her over nor am I going to drag her along unless she chooses to be dragged. Hmm. It’s just, she moves, too. Odd. I don’t know what to make of it.

Anyway, back to people. So I was leaning against the car with S on Sunday, and it wasn’t so much that I thought I would steamroll her — she doesn’t seem steamrollable, exactly — but rather that I thought she was a sapling. I’d end up ripping her up by the roots and dragging her about. I’d be exhausted from the weight I was hauling, and she’d be bruised and sore from getting hauled. Fun for no one.

Another thing I find myself measuring people on is life experience. I’m starting to think I have a lot of life experience. I’ve done a fair amount of looking at myself and straightening my head out, experimenting to figure out what works and what doesn’t, I have a lot of responsibility, and I’ve done things where I had to make it or — well, really, or go home. But that was never a good option. I was not a homebody, much as I love my family. πŸ˜‰

I look at someone like S, and I suspect that she’s still young. This is hilarious, because I’m sure DK is younger age-wise, but if I’m looking at life experience, well… I think of S as a baby butch, though I’m also sure she’s been butch-identified longer than DK, and I don’t think of DK as a baby butch. It’s not fair to think of them as a baby-butch, either, because really I’m just thinking of them as young, and it has nothing to do with butch. I think that phrase just sort of stuck in my head. *wry smile* Anyway, this inexperience is another thing I lump under ‘steamrolling,’ and one that just won’t work. (I’m not comfortable with ‘inexperience’ because I’ve met people who have LOTS of life experience, and still seem… young. Untried. Maybe it has more to do with sorting your head out? I don’t know.)

I know myself well enough to know that these things really aren’t negotiable. I can’t say, “Well, this person is great except I can steamroll them. I’ll try it; maybe I’ll be wrong this time!” or “this person is perfect except they’re young experience-wise. Maybe it’ll work!” It won’t work. They’ll get bruised, I’ll be exhausted. No fun.

So, hm. Interesting stuff. Mostly it’s exasperating, knowing the field of people I’m interested in is so narrow. At least I won’t waste my time with people who won’t work?

Also, why are you reading this? My wordcount says it’s almost 2000 words, which is nearly ten pages. You weirdo. πŸ˜‰

J

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You know what really annoys me? I mean REALLY? More than femme invisibility? More than being asked why don’t I just date a man? …actually, it might be on par with that.

I’m on dating sites. Four of them, if I recall correctly. There are plenty of lesbians on these dating sites, and I’m sure they’re just lovely people. However, I’m only attracted to butch women. If Angelina Jolie, the sex goddess herself, walked up to me tomorrow in her best Lara Croft outfit and asked me to go to bed with her, in all honesty… I’d have to say no. She just doesn’t do it for me. She’s all soft and squishy, even when she’s ripped with muscle and wearing non-feminine clothes. Something about her just screams “Feminine!”

Now, if she-sex incarnate doesn’t turn me on, there’s not a snowball’s chance in hell that the average woman is going to do it. Because I respect that people put time and energy into contacting someone and opening themselves to rejection, I say on my profile (this line is pulled right from one of those sites):

I’m a vegetarian-active-dog-trainer-romance-novel-author-animal-crazy-butch-loving femme.

And then, in case they don’t get it, I elaborate. I mean, by the time it’s done, it’s pretty clear that I’m looking for a butch lesbian. In fact, I say it outright. And yet, you know what email I get more often than any other? (Made up for your convenience, and yet practically verbatim):

Hi! Well, I’m not butch, but I think you’re pretty cute and your profile made me laugh. You should give us other girls a try — I think you’ll find that we’re pretty cute, too! I may have long hair, but I like chivalry, and we have a lot in common! πŸ˜€

Sweetheart, you’re probably a doll. You’re probably a lovely person. You probably don’t have a clue that what you just said is about as offensive as me saying, “Hey, I know you think you like women, but I bet you just haven’t tried men! Go get yourself some cock, and then decide!”

I mean, really? Would you walk up to someone and tell them that they were probably just closed minded in who they were dating? That if they just tried some other people, they’d find they were all wrong about themselves, their tastes, and what they find attractive and they liked not x type, but y type? (If your answer is yes, slap yourself now. Re-read above re: cock. YES IT IS THE SAME, unless you have some serious extenuating circumstances.)

Plus, if I just finished saying I’m only interested in butch women, why in heaven’s name would you want to date me if you aren’t one?! It’s like setting yourself up for pain! “Well, I’m dating this girl who isn’t attracted to me, but she has a great sense of humor!” WHY?!

“I only like black men.”

“Hi! I’m a blond Norwiegian! Surely you’ll make an exception for me! You just haven’t tried, right?”

NO! PEOPLE! Let’s think about this for a moment! Really. I promise. I’m a big girl. I know what I’m attracted to. You are probably lovely, and I hope you find someone who thinks you’re incredible, but it’s not me. Stop trying to change my mind, okay? Okay.

Also, people are aware (okay, some people are aware) that telling, say, a lesbian she likes women because she just hasn’t met the right man is A Bad Thing To Say. So why is it okay to tell a lesbian she likes butch women because she just hasn’t met the right androgynous woman? WTF? Do butch women get this too? Is this just that any time you pick a category, other people will object, or is this a femme thing? I mean, seriously, I get this email a couple of times a week. I can’t imagine a butch who says “I like femme women” getting a similiar email, mostly because so many women — even lesbians — these days are feminine, so I’d guess it gets overlooked. But maybe I’m wrong! Or maybe butch women get a lot of emails from feminine women who aren’t femme and get annoyed because they can tell a difference. I dunno. Please, enlighten me.

In the meantime, I can blow off steam here so I don’t snap someone’s head off. πŸ˜‰

Love,
Me




{January 1, 2010}   First comment! …wait…

You know those commenters who leave a comment but all it says is “first comment!”? No? Um. That might just be my geekiness showing. Move along, move along!

In other news, the chick on my site totally looks like me! If I had long hair and was animated. Shuddup.

Uh. I’d like to put something brilliant and awesome on here, but I’m dying of exhaustion and all I can really think about is going to bed and to sleep. I have, however, started a list of things I want to write about! And I suppose I can do an intro post.

Hi! This is me. I’m single again, as of a week ago, and it’s REALLY WEIRD. I was talking to my friend and neighbor, K, last night, and we were talking about that vibe you get when you’re single. Suddenly, you NOTICE people. I can only hope they’re noticing me, because as of right now I’m feeling a little lost as to how to go about finding others. I keep thinking, “I’m interested in a minority. In a minority of a minority. For the love’a…” And then I read other blogs from women who have no problems finding butch women, and I flail a little. How am I not noticing these people?! Seriously, I was walking around with DK (my new-ex, old friend) and SHE was pointing out butch women to me, and I wasn’t seeing them. I used to do this even when I was dating men, so I figure I’m DOOMED. *shakes head sadly*

The good news is, I’m in the bay area. And I did a websearch for lesbian bars and whatnot (why, I don’t know, I don’t even LIKE bars… but I might try anyway), and found one where the major complaint from the clientele was that there was too many butch women. I thought to myself, “HOORAY! NIRVANA!” And K volunteered to be my wingman, and I think my friend Nezu will probably be a wingman, too. I also discovered that there’s a lesbian bookclub. That might be more my style, we’ll see. πŸ˜‰ (Though, honestly, I can read books on my own. I’d really like someone to go hiking with and play with dogs and go do things. I want someone outdoorsy. We’ll see. I keep reminding myself – patience! Never in my life have I actually cared about whether or not I was in a relationship, and now I’m actually interested. It’s a strange place to find myself.) (Wow, that was a killer long tangent!)

Man. I need to get people to read this blog so that I can plumb their minds for ideas… Right now, I’m not sure what to do. It’s a little disheartening. 😦 And now that I’m disheartened, I think I’ll go watch bad movies and sleep.

JB



et cetera