To The FemmeMobile! Away!

So, my cousin posted this thing on Facebook.

Wait, back up. You should know that both sides of my family are socially and religiously conservative. That one set of cousins (as in, the children of one particular aunt) has broken with the family conservative-Catholic beliefs to say, “Actually, maybe teh gays aren’t all that bad. In fact, they might not even be ‘teh gays’ but be actual people. WE SHALL TREAT THEM THUSLY.” A few of the others simply are loving and I don’t actually know where they stand on religious-political issues, but they do talk to me about my life and ask me with big beaming smiles about Quin, so I have no problem with them. (This is a little contrary to what I’m about to say. I’m still puzzling it out.)

But. There are another set of cousins that are really anti-gay marriage. They post anti-gay marriage things on Facebook periodically. Mostly they’re consumed with pro-life stuff, so the gay marriage stuff doesn’t come up so often, but now and then…

One of these cousins posted some speech the Pope gave with the comment, “Thank you Pope Benedict!” The speech was, in part, a reaction to the school shooting. The title (which pretty much captured the story) was “Pope Says: True Peace in the World Requires the End of Abortion and Gay “Marriage”.”

Because clearly abortions and gay marriage were on that guy’s mind when he shot all those kids.  */snark*

Anyway, it wasn’t the Pope’s statement that bothered me — I know the Catholic stance on both those things — it was my cousin’s sharing it with the comment, “Thank you Pope Benedict!” It was her making that statement despite knowing I’m gay and in a long-term relationship.

I wasn’t sure what to say. Whether to let it slide as her opinion she’s entitled to, or whether to step forward. That’s a hard line for me to see, the difference between opinion and bullying, and worse, she’s family. I don’t want to create family fights.

I very nearly said nothing. My mom raised us while keeping the peace in the family. She said (and this was true) it was so that we could make our own decisions about whether or not we wanted those family members in our lives, without her burning our bridges. But what I learned, and am slowly unlearning, is that you should keep the peace in the family AT ALL COSTS.

I’m also a big believer in complicity by silence. Er, not that you should do it, but that it happens all over. I’ve been working really hard not to be complicit by silence. To speak up if I hear someone being hassled or bullied, and to call people on it when I hear hateful or predjudiced language being spewed. But here’s the thing: at what point am I being complicit by silence vs just acknowledging that people have their own beliefs?

And here’s the other thing: is it even good for me? I think it’s good for society for people to speak up. But I did speak up yesterday, and I didn’t sleep last night. I was in a state of high anxiety most of today, thinking about her possible responses and my possible responses and whether or not I was going to catch flack at Christmas, where I’ll see her, and so on. (As it turned out, she didn’t respond at all.)

BTW, my response was: “You know… I just don’t think the downfall of civilization is caused by my loving and possibly marrying my girlfriend. That action would, however, stabilize and give more support to her two kids’ lives, which seems to be what Benedict wants, anyway.”

So… I guess I’m actually here asking for opinions. When do you speak up? When would you like to see people speak up, in an ideal situation? When “should” comments slide? I’m still not sure if I did the right thing or not. I can’t say I did the wrong thing, but I can’t say I did the right one, either. It doesn’t help that this is family, so there’s learned and familial issues there, anyway. But at least if I had a better understanding, I might feel more confident about saying something vs keeping quiet.

At least I have realized one thing for sure: I no longer have qualms about inviting some of my cousins and not other cousins/aunts and uncles who aren’t supportive of gay marriage, should I ever get married. And I’m finally realizing that if that creates family rifts… I’m okay with that. I’m not even doing it because I feel angry at them, which I expected. It’s more like, “Well, why would I invite them? They would be there out of obligation, not because they were happy for me. I want to share it with the people who would be happy for me. And if they’re angry because I didn’t count them admist those numbers, I’m sorry for that, but I don’t think I’m wrong. And if they are happy for me, and are sad they didn’t get to share, then I’ll apologize and we’ll bond. Or we won’t.”

It’s kind of freeing.


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{April 19, 2011}   Protected: Moving Forward

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{March 24, 2010}   Touch and Go

Life has been a bit touch and go for me, here. I don’t know why, but there’s annoyance right there at the surface, and it keeps sort of… rising. Not in a “I’m so PISSY” sort of way, but in a, “…Alpha wolf is getting annoyed,” sort of way, which is both healthier for me and more dangerous for the folks around me. I notice it in the fact that I’m cursing more, that my warrior streak is sort of constantly right there under my skin, that I’m taking no shit at all from people of late. Which isn’t to say I’m being a bitch, but is to say that I’m awfully good at smiling and putting the smackdown.

I think it ties in with sex.

The more I play around with Q, the more she encourages and supports and pushes and just shows me how to have fun, the more I’m teasing and confident and reclaiming a part of myself I hadn’t realized was really that damaged.

Here’s what I’m finding amazing: it’s more than just sex. It’s more than being able to say, “Touch here, suck there, I want…” (which, uh, I still have problems saying BUT I’M GETTING THERE!). I’ve talked before about how being able to make people look at me is a power trip. What I hadn’t realized was that I was still hamstrung; I could make people look from a distance, but there was always a concern at the back of my mind. What if they took me up on the offer? Ohgod. I was always walking around with one stray thought paying attention to how I would get out of any particular sexual jam. (Such as, what if someone made a sexual comment? What if someone wanted to talk about their sex life and expected me to talk, too? OH NO THE HUMANITY.)

Now… I’m not. Or I am but much less — that’s probably more accurate. 😉 And it’s like I’ve dropped ten feet of anchor chain. Suddenly, I can stand up straight. I don’t have to remember to hold it up, it means I can take on things I couldn’t take on before because now I have the energy to do it. I’m not spending half my energy looking for an escape.

I used to think to myself that, when I got over this sexual thing, I couldn’t wait to meet myself. Well, I’m meeting myself, and I like me. My edges are sharper than they need to be, but that’s okay. I’ll re-learn how to be a slightly more gentle person, but now I have the strength to continue to back myself.

It’s not all there, by any means. But — wow. I have the distinct feeling that I don’t have to take shit from anyone, and it makes me feel slightly invincible.I am becoming the force to be reckoned with I always suspected I’d be. It’s a little terrifying. Time to work on developing some extra compassion so I don’t just bowl people over. 😉

In only slightly related news, Bond mentioned a strap-on in passing, which made me think of sex. Actually, everything makes me think of sex.

DK: So, I got my hair cut the other day–

Me: Hmm. Q’s hair is too short to grab during SEX.

Nezu: You want to get together Friday?

Me: Friday. What am I doing Friday? I dunno but Thursday I’m having SEX. Last Friday I think I was having SEX, too.

G: So, Swoon List–

Me: Sex sex sex sex sex sex sex

Bobby Da Bird: Chirp!

Me: Ha ha ha ha, he totally wolf-whistled at Q’s ass the other day in the middle of SEX, which made her laugh really hard. Oh, man. That sex was really great.

Even in the middle of sex. Q: What are you thinking about?

Me: …I was just mentally gloating over my awesome sex with a really hot butch. >.>

Okay, so granted, I think about sex on a regular basis anyway. But these days I’m constantly horny, due in no small part to the fact that Q keeps calling and texting me and saying things that make me horny. Which — oh, man. We keep talking about sex stuff. Not only the sex we’re having, but the different things we like and ways we look at it.  (Under the cut? More SEX!)

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Okay, so the little speech I’d rehearsed the other day? I totally didn’t get to use it. (Those of you who haven’t read the protected post don’t know what I’m talking about. The short of it: I was trying to figure out how to tell a new person about my sexual issues without oversharing, while aware I had to say SOMETHING.)

Halfway through the night, Q asked me something or other, and that led to her asking something else, and the next thing I knew she was watching me curiously and asking all SORTS of questions and she pretty much just figured everything out. I’m… baffled, and amused. *laughs* Over phone conversations she grilled me on the rest of it, including the whys and wherefores of my issues (which I’ve talked about before), and she seems to think it’s an interesting challenge more than anything. This cracks me up. I can’t even tell you. She sort of takes it all in stride, and is proactive in working to fix it, without showing any sort of sympathy or pity (which, for me, is a good thing. As soon as I get sympathy or pity I stop being proactive and wallow in angst, and then I’m forced to slap myself). For instance, when I was bitching because she’d asked me something awkward via text, and I answered and asked her something awkward in return — or rather, asked if I could ask, which is how she’d started — she PHONED ME and I had to actually say it out loud, without being able to carefully rehearse beforehand. Her response was to just ask, like it was no big deal, “Do you want me to hang up and we can go back to text?” Which made me own up and take responsibility (Answer: No, because I want to get over this issue!), as well as make me realize — hey! This was no big deal. So, sometimes you get exactly who you need at the moment. 😉

We’re still dating casually, just having a lot of fun, but I find myself hesitating dating anyone else, though I know she is. (She thinks I’m tiny, I learned today, because the other woman she’d dating is taller and, perforce, heavier than I am. Q slings her around, so I’m like nothin’. *laughs*) I’d like to be farther along in this getting-over-things cycle, I think, before I start dating someone. I feel like I actually have a shot to make things better, and I’d like to be more comfortable in my skin and get used to new, healthier habits before I try those new habits out on others. In psychology terms, I’m retraining my mind, and the old habits are deep ruts, while the new ones are shallow impressions. It’s easy to slide right back into the deep ruts: I’d like the impressions to be deeper grooves, before I push them with someone else. I’d like to be reasonably used to talking about this stuff, so that when I have the added stress of a new person, I don’t slide.

I’m feeling hopeful, though. I’m feeling like I can do this, like I have the help I’ve been needing, and it’s pretty cool. 😀 And I trust Q on some fairly basic level — I’m picky about who I trust, but she sort of screams, “Hey! Over here! You can totally trust me!” Not to everyone, I’m sure, but certainly to me. 😉

OH! And she took me for a ride on her motorcycle. I mentioned it’s red, right? Into the mountains. Damn. I knew I had a thing for motorcycles.


{February 26, 2010}   Protected: Sex! Totally TMI.

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{February 23, 2010}   On sex, and first moves

I’m BACK! With SO much to talk about. My hand is at half power, though, and I spent the day writing, so this might be a lot shorter than I want. Watch me get halfway through a post and have to duck out. ;-D (Of course I would still post it and leave you all hanging. I’m evil.)

I’m catching up slowly on the other blogs — give me a week, and maybe I’ll make it. 😉

In the meantime! So the day I got bit by a dog (which happened in the evening), I also got a delivery from England and my ex-girlfriend/best friend, Dark. It was a rather large box. I happened to know, from something she’d said, that she was sending me a sex toy.

It was a rather large box.

So I opened it up, and lo and behold, there isn’t a sex toy. There’s SEVERAL sex toys, with a book — “1001 Ridiculous Sexual Misadventures” (which is hilarious. My dad read it while he was here.), various flavors of lube, a letter that cracked me up and made me feel warm and fuzzy, and — … I think there was something else, but now I’ve forgotten. Hang on! I’ll go look.

Oh! Batteries.  (My ex-girlfriend is better than your ex-girlfriend. KIDDING! I’M KIDDING!)

As I was opening the box up, in my empty apartment with the blinds closed lest stray squirrels peer in, I could feel myself squirming with laughter and embarrassment. In my empty apartment. Obviously, my issues are not over. So, naturally, when my friend Nezu arrived not too long later, I told her about the box of sex toys and managed not to die of more embarrassment. Go me! Improvement!

(There was this pink thing and it is awesome and might just make me melt into a puddle of goo. Funny thing, though, about a bad injury and infection — at least for me — is that you lose your sex drive. So that’s all I’ve tested out, yet.)  (I’m not sure if I’ll tell you all about the others. We’ll see. Maybe behind a cut.) (Not in this post.) (I need to get a move on on getting over this issue!)

In related news, I had a successful date last night! With a really hot butch, Q, who’s five years older than me and keeps surprising me by not being any taller than I am. Every time she stood up I was surprised. Big energy. VERY BUTCH. I’m in seventh heaven, and we’ve been emailing and texting back and forth all day. And evening. And I’m going over to her place on Wednesday.

At the end of the date there was that moment of awkward, “Do we hug? Kiss? Shake hands? Bow? WHAT?” which is usual, but it made me very self-conscious, again, that this is something I want to get over. NOW. (My best bud, Dr. Danny, told me, “…wow. By that time we’d [gay guys] would be trying to get into each other’s pants already.” I laughed really hard. I wouldn’t mind that so much…)

The date on Wednesday involves dinner and a movie at her place. Hopefully there will be making out. But, see, just thinking that I start to freeze up. If she doesn’t start, will I? Not should I — I’m not really worried that I’ll read the situation wrong. I’m pretty sure, after lots of emails and texts today, that she likes me. And I know from her profile and a comment in an email that she’s just as sexual as I am. And I know myself well enough to know that I’ll be able to tell the situation — and that I’ll probably panic, convince myself I’m reading it wrong, and freeze.

I really hate that. I’m not sure how to get over it. All the self talk in the world hasn’t helped so far.

But you know what? Maybe I’m using the wrong self-talk. As I sit here remembering the self-talk I used with Dark, it didn’t tend toward positive. It was more like, “Stop being a wiener and make a move!” Which, really, just made me feel bad about being a coward. Maybe what I need to do is take a breath, remember that I’m attractive, self-confident, and I can get over anything, and go from there. And not beat myself up if I freeze, anyway. Try and move through the moment, even if that moment isn’t what I’d hoped it would be.

…I’m probably not going to make the first move, anyway. Not the VERY first move. But I will tease and flirt. >.> And maybe I’ll make the second move! I think I can handle the second move. I don’t mean like kissing back, I mean after a first move has been made and now we’re doing something else, I could do the second initiation! That’s a step forward, but less intimidating. (I have this voice in the back of my head that says I should just make the first move in the first place, because REALLY NOW, who is going to turn down being kissed? But I’m trying to tell that voice to be quiet, because it only makes me feel bad. A small step forward is still a step forward. Even if a big part of me wishes it were a bigger step forward. >.< On top of fear about people being disgusted is fear that if I don’t make a move, no one will ever make a move, and then I’ll either make people run away because they think I don’t like them, or my sex life will DIE. More dramatic than that. Say it with me. DIE.)

…that was a really long parenthetical tangent. And now I’m going to break more grammar rules and talk about it! I think that’s a big part of this — the concern that people will think I don’t like them/I’m not interested, and/or that my sex life will die if I don’t make the first move. It has happened before, and that’s part of the problem. Maybe, in this situation, I need to trust the other person? I mean, we’re both sort of stumbling around in the dark, making brave leaps and hoping we don’t get rejected. My feeling is that if I don’t make all the leaps, none will get made — but that’s just silly. Maybe I need to trust that the other person can read the situation, too, and will also act accordingly.

Hmm. That’s a better feeling, at least. A lot of pressure off me. It’s like a band released around my chest.

Mini-steps closer to letting go of issues, here. Micromovements are still movements.

(The funny thing is, once someone else initiates, I’m fine to play. But that means they have to initiate almost everything, and… I don’t want that. But I’m getting there.)

Okay. I learned some things tonight, which I’m going to sum up so I can remember them.

1. I need to trust myself, and that I’m reading the situation correctly.

2. I need to remember to use positive self-talk, not shame or harrass myself into things. Work from a place of love, as my happy-head books would say, not a place of fear. 😉

3. It’s not all up to me. My relationship isn’t going to fall apart if I don’t make the first move.

4. Trust the other person, that they’ll also be able to read the situation and they’ll be making some first moves, too. I don’t have to worry about doing all of them. There are two people here, and we’re both working toward this.

Ahh. Now my head feels better… but boy, my hand hurts. I’m off for the night. 😉


{February 9, 2010}   Sex and language

Remember how I said I was going to write about sex? Yeeeaaaah. Well, hey, I’m finally getting there!

Part of why I haven’ t been doing that is, ironically, for healthy reasons. After I found Sex is Not the Enemy (sidebar!) and decided I’d write about that, I realized that, well, I didn’t mind writing about that. I think in just thinking about talking about sex, I’m getting less stressed about it. Also, have I mentioned I’m writing a femme/butch novella? I am. There will be sex, which will give me what is most likely a much better platform to figure out my continuing weirdness from. (I should probably write about sex anyway, just to practice. If I’m TOTALLY comfortable writing about it in a blog, then I’ll be more comfortable talking about it in person! But I have no illusions that blogging about it is going to be nearly as scary as talking sex with a real live person I care about…)

So, anyway, I started analyzing (because I LOVE analyzing!) what got me the most worried. It’s totally language. (Yeah, my last post did remind me of this. *grins*)

When I first started writing gay sex, I had the same problem. “Penis” is clinical, “Dick” is high school, “Cock” felt waaaaay too dirty. Not hot-dirty, but shameful dirty. Now I’m hitting the same problem, both in my (admittedly non-existent — YET) sex life, and in writing the novella. (Which I haven’t started, but I’m good at predicting.)

I bought a couple of lesbian short stories (I seriously want to shoot the ‘femme’ in one of them), and read through those. Mostly, they avoid talking about The Area at all. There was an occasional ‘pussy,’ lots of ‘slick wetness’ and — oh yeah — ‘lips.’

Let’s imagine this scene for a moment.

[There is hot, passionate making out going on!]
Bobbi: Ooohhh, yes, right there! Lick my lips!
Sharon: uh… okay… *licks mouth*
Bobbi: …not what I meant.
Sharon: You have to be clear in these things!

Also, just in writing this I’ve realized that in a situation like this, I’m a lot more likely to say clit anyway. Which, who knows why, doesn’t carry a lot of the baggage cunt or pussy does for me. (They both just seem violent or brash. Which isn’t bad, except I’m neither a violent or brash person. IN SEX. You in the peanut gallery, stop laughing. And while I’m sure someday I will have violent and brash moments, they aren’t all the time. So when I’m not feeling either of those, I need another word. Or I need to get over my issues. I’m not sure which. Feel free to weigh in!)

In writing gay romance, ‘cock’ stopped seeming a shameful word, and now it’s kind of hot. So maybe les sex is the same thing, and once I get used to using the words I won’t have the violent/brash/clinical/high school connotations? (Okay, I am ALWAYS going to have the high school connotations with words like “vajayjay.”) That, I’ll figure out as I write my les novella. 😀

But, here’s another issue. I’m not the ordering kinda gal. It almost makes me more uncomfortable to think about ordering someone to do something than to think about the language involved. Which brings me to ANOTHER thought I’ve been thinking. I feel uncomfortable taking over, taking charge. I’d much rather push and push and tease and push until the other person drags me off somewhere, and I will happily do whatever they say. This seems very D/s to me, and I’m not at all sure I’m comfortable with that. In fact, I’m just going to leave the topic there — look, I broached it, now let’s not talk about it until I bring it up again, okay? Okay.

Instead, let’s go back to that ordering thing. 😀 Where’s the line between ordering someone to do something, asking someone to do something, and saying you like something? I mean, it’s easy enough to say, “Hey, I like what you’re doing right there right now!” but what if we’re making out and what I’d really like her to do is to… uh, my mind went blank. Bite my hipbone! That’s something I can talk about right now without stress. 😀 Okay, so then I say, “Hey, would you..?”

…actually, that seems simple enough. I think it’s just the compilation of all the stresses that made it seem so big. Good thing I used hipbone! Also, part of what I’m dealing with — and I’ve just realized this — is the fear that whatever I say, I’ll get that disgusted, “EW NO!” reaction. But asking doesn’t hurt, and I’m not going to get ridiculed. (Or if I do, I’ll break out my handy pit bull launcher and sic Lily on them. Then call Every Butch I Know. What? I’m allowed to be vindictive. Because.)

Okay! Now let’s go back to that D/s thing. Actually, I don’t know enough about D/s to know if that’s what it is, I’ve just had it hammered into my head so much that submissive at all = BAD BAD BAD that even this little bit of it makes me quail. The fact is, I’m such a tease. You know what my favorite thing to do with DK was? Tease her. Bite my lip. Bite her lip. Grab her tie and pull her in and tease her some more before walking away, all mock-innocent. Lick her earlobe. And I knew full well that if I did enough of it, eventually she’d give me that Look and grab me, kiss me senseless or pin me against the wall or against the couch or haul me around and do wonderful wonderful things.

I’m feeling all mushy just thinking about it. (Not THAT kind of mushy. *grins*)

I’m an instigator, no doubt about it! It’s how I feel the  most powerful, pushing someone right up to that edge and then right over it, too! Then I get a little thrill about how powerful they are, and there’s a TOTAL kink there. But despite the fact that I’m going to gleefully instigate, I don’t really want to take charge when it comes down to actual sex. This surprises no one, right? 😉 But aside from my bizarre and varied issues, it’s more than that. I find it VERY difficult to initiate. (Okay, that is, in part, because of my issues.) I like it best when someone else leads the way, and I can just cavort along. And there is cavorting. I did the most of my cavorting with my ex-boyfriend (since he lived on the same continent and all…), who would happily lead the way and I gleefully followed. I can totally imagine doing what someone asks and feeling all sexy about it, but the idea of ordering someone else around? It’s kind of an anti-kink for me. (That’s not strictly true. There are certain moods that I find myself in that, occasionally, will make me want to order people around. Often I also feel wicked. >.>)

But even when I’m in the right mood, I don’t get the same warm-inside-slinky feeling that I get from imagining being hauled around and allowing requests. Because that’s really what it is: you tell me what you want, and I’ll decide if I’m willing to do it.

I remember thinking once that that wasn’t very fair. At the time, I was thinking about movies. I would say, “I don’t know what I want to see. What do you want to see?” It was an insecurity move: I didn’t have to show my hand, and I had the power to yea or nay. Sex doesn’t feel the same thing. It’s more like, “Will you get me a drink while you’re up?” “…only if you’re very good.” It’s totally a power play. They want something, I have the power to give it — or not. Which, from what I’ve read, IS a D/s thing. I think. Maybe. The whole subject makes me uncomfortable so, in general, I stay away from it. (The BDSM fiction I’ve read has left me feeling very turned off and twitchy.) BUT! Maybe I should look, just so I have some answers.

Eckhart Tolle, among many others, has said that you can’t deal with something until you’ve accepted it’s there. I’ve been running from this submissive, follow-along tendency for, um, ever. Time to look at it, because it could come from general insecurity, but I don’t think it does. It could be a kink, so I might as well find someone who has a mirroring kink, right? Hmmm.

MORE things to think about. 😉


{January 20, 2010}   okay, here goes…

So, part of the reason I started this blog was because I have this neurosis. (Shuddup, you. And you too, in the back! *grins*) I have a hell of a time talking about sex.

I don’t mean sex in the abstract, like, “Some people find BDSM to be very stimulating,” or even, “And then she swept her tongue up the inside of Melina’s silken thigh,” oh, no. Heck, I write gay porn romance novels for a living; that, I’m used to. (Ironically, I started writing gay sex because I couldn’t even do that, at first…) It’ s sex to do with me. What I like, what turns me on, things like that. I have noticed, however, that lots of gay bloggers seem to talk about their sex life and have no problems with that. And I WANT a great sex life. And yet, this is practically a phobia. I can think and imagine talking about sex just fine, but the instant I try to say (or type, or write) any of it, I’m practically paralyzed. I want to get over that.

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