I feel as if I’m dying a slow death out here in the suburbs. The answer for me, however, is not moving to a big city. I’ve been married for 15 years to an amazing man that I love very much. The problem is, I realized a few years into our marriage that I also am attracted to women. I told him so, and he’s fine with it, although I never acted on it.
Then I met Laura through a business networking event. She’s smart and funny, cute and also a lesbian. We’ve become good friends, and she has let me know point blank that she wants me for her own. I’m torn because I love my husband. I’m attracted to my husband and we have a healthy sex life. But I have this other side of me which needs to be fed. What do I do?
Signed,
Love Him or Her?
Dear Love Him or Her,
Well, pardon the expression, but you’re in a bit of a pickle now aren’t ya? It sounds to me like you’re true blue, full-blooded bisexual woman. Congratulations – you’ve doubled your chances for a date on a Saturday night (old Woody Allen joke).
So what to do? Well, the good news is that your husband already knows – although understanding your wife’s a bisexual intellectually is a hell of a lot different than having her say, “Ok now, I’m off to find a girlfriend!” First things first, sit down and talk with him. Tell him about your feelings of a ’slow death in the burbs’. You both need to figure out what’s going to work for both of you. Is an open marriage the way for you two to go? Can he really handle the idea of you with a woman on a consistent basis? And can you handle him being with other people?
If an open marriage won’t work for him, and you can’t stay in the confines of monogomy, then you two may need to separate temporarily. I’d hate to see that happen, but this is obviously a huge part of yourself you feel you need to express. It’s not going to “go away.” Just talk to each other about it because keeping it inside will indeed eat at your soul.
Oh – one more thingy – don’t expect Laura to want to play the third wheel on your open marriage bandwagon. She’s playing in full uniform for the other team, meaning, just because she wants to plow your field doesn’t mean she’ll compromise what she wants to get you. Or maybe she will. But before you ‘go there’ you need to lay it all out for your husband. He’s the one you made vows to years ago. You also need to think about if it’s Laura you really want, or has she just been a catalyst for your coming out party. I’m sure sharing all this with your man sounds about as appealing as root canal without the good drugs, but it’s gotta be done. Otherwise, you’ll end up acting out this stuff and really hurting him. And you.
BTW, this is the most literal, obvious mix I’ve ever made. Couldn’t help it – sorry!
10. “I Kissed a Girl,” (Katy Perry) I Kissed a Girl (Single).
09. “Damn I Wish I was Your Lover,” (Sophie B. Hawkins) The Best of Sophie B. Hawkins.
08. “Glory Box,” (Portishead) Dummy.
07. “Fidelity,” (Regina Spektor) Begin to Hope.
06. “I Always Knew,” (Jem) Down to Earth.
05. “Your Little Secret,” (Melissa Etheridge) Your Little Secret.
04. “I Want Your (Hands on Me),” (Sinead O’Connor) So Far.
03. “I Melt with You,” (Nouvelle Vague) Nouvelle Vague.
It is a Friday evening on a summer afternoon. The workday is over, and I am not scheduled on my second job tonight. Taking this rare opportunity for free-time in hand, I lay my plans for an evening out on the town. I walk past my cell phone that is sitting on its charger beside the door. I see that it has neither calls nor messages waiting, and I smile. There are no invitations to cookouts or social gatherings or anything. More importantly, there are no calls from adoring women desiring my company. The night is mine.
I pop a David Sandborn CD into my computer, to set the mood, and begin undressing for a quick shower. Sandborn’s smooth saxophone sounds fill my apartment as warm, soapy water washes over my fatigued body. I look down at my midsection and notice the bulge that is gleaming in the shower spray. No, not that bulge-I’m referring to the roll of fat that has accumulated around my abdominal area. I remind myself to eat more veggies and do more crunches.
I towel-dry my hair, pat-dry my body, and exit the steamy shower stall. After donning my newest pair of boxer shorts, I rifle through the closet looking for something comfortable, yet classy. I decide on khaki cargo shorts and a blue-plaid oxford shirt worn over a black tee. My gray and white Nikes complete the ensemble. These days, I dress for comfort rather than style.
Dressed and ready, I head for the front door with my head reeling with a myriad of different visual images. Wait, I just remembered that the Sandborn CD is still playing and the bathroom light is still on. After discharging these two trifles, I once more begin my journey.
I stop and turn. Gotta check the stove. Although I haven’t used the stove today, I still feel compelled to check it. I walk into the kitchen while pondering the dynamics of laser-light (which has nothing to do with kitchen appliances). I look down at the stove dials. They are all set in the “off” position, but I still feel compelled to touch each one as if needing tactile reassurance.
I once again start on my way. I’ve gotten so far as to turn the lock when it occurs to me that I was daydreaming about laser-light while checking the stove. What if I possibly turned on all the eyes while in my absentminded state? I return to the kitchen and recheck the dials, once again touching each one. Once I am sure that everything about the stove is copacetic, I bolt for the front door.
I slam it behind me and lock it with one of the two sets of house keys that I carry. The outside air is hot and humid and smells like car exhaust. I wonder how many toxins that I’m breathing in as I make my way down the stairs. I’m almost at the bottom of the second landing when I remember that I’ve forgotten my cell phone. I have to go back.
I’m in my car now, pulling out onto the road that leads to North Johnson City. My musical taste has progress from David Sandborn to the Ramones. With the refrain of Teenage Lobotomy blaring in my ears and the air-conditioning blowing cool on my face, I make my way through the post-rush hour traffic. I can already taste the savory popcorn shrimp at my favorite seafood place.
As I leave West Market Street and enter the parkway, I realize that I have been lost in my inner world from the time I left my apartment until this point. I shut off the stereo and try to orient myself to my surroundings. Not sure if I stopped for the last red-light, I anxiously scan my rearview mirror for pursuing police cars or traffic pile-ups left in my wake. When everything looks clear, I breathe a sigh of relief and continue toward my destination.
It is still early enough in the evening that the restaurant is not yet crowded. I enter the lobby and approach a smiling young hostess standing behind a podium.
“How many in your party, sir?” she asks with feigned enthusiasm.
“Just one” I reply.
“You’re dining alone?” she asks.
“Yes, ma’am” I say.
She draws her mouth down into sad frown that displays her pity and makes a low sound like one who is consoling a child with a boo-boo. I, in return, furrow my brow and offer her my best look of distain for her youthful ignorance. She simply ignores the gesture and cheerfully chirps, “Okay, follow me, sir.”
Although there are many tables unoccupied and available, she leads me to a small, single-chaired one in a dingy corner next to the men’s bathroom.
“May I have a table next to the window, ma’am” I ask.
She hesitates and looks around with an expression as if I have just asked to borrow her car for a day and asks “One of the larger tables?”
“Yes, please”
“Um…okay”
She leads me to my table of choice, tells me that my server will be with me soon, and leaves me to enjoy my coveted dining table. The view from the window is Spartan, with only some scraggly trees and a mechanic’s garage in the distance. It isn’t much, but I’ve fought for it and won it. The table is mine.
I am staring out the window, wondering if city trees are as healthy as country trees, when my waiter approaches my table and says, “Hey there, bud, what can I get you to drink?”
‘Bud’, I think to myself, whatever happened to those professional courtesies like sir and ma’am?
“I’ll have a sweet tea, no lemon” I reply.
Meanwhile, he leaves me to peruse the menu as he goes to get my tea. After a very brief period of debate, I decide on Alaskan whitefish and popcorn shrimp with French-fries. A glass of iced tea is suddenly shoved into my field of vision, and the first thing I notice is a large lemon slice bobbing in the center of it. I decide that I can live with lemon, and pull it out with my fingers and lay it on the table.
“Ready to order there, bud?”
I raise my eyes to face my waiter who is standing with pencil and pad in hand, impatiently waiting to take my order. I give him the details of my order, hoping that he won’t screw it up as easily as he did the iced tea. He jots down some notes on his grease-splattered pad, runs a hand through his bushy surfer’s hair, and takes the menu from me.
“Have it out to you in just a minute, bud” he says with a half smile, then leaves me to sip on my lemon-contaminated tea.
It is now 9:15pm, and I have just left the restaurant and am I now on my way to my favorite night club. The place which I am bound for is the city’s most identifiable gay and lesbian establishment. I go there sometimes, not for one-nighters, but for the sensory input. I love the bright lights, loud music, and the constant motion of mingling forms.
As I pull into the rear parking lot, my first observation is that there are but few cars around. I then realize that it is still too early-the crowds do not start rolling in until after ten o’clock or so. The place is a nondescript building with a whitewashed clapboard exterior that is conspicuously void of any windows. It is not much to look at from the outside. What it does look like is a structure trying to hide itself and its business.
I climb the wooden staircase that is surrounded by a high privacy fence, slowly amble down the concealed walkway, and enter where the front desk is to my immediate right. Rhetta is one the establishments most prominent staffers. Upon seeing me from behind her desk, she greeted me in her usual officious manner. After the briefest of chitchat, she checks my drivers’ license and stamps the back of my hand.
“I don’t know why I bother to stamp your hand-you never drink”, she says, and then turns back to her previous work.
I am briefly taken aback by the offhand comment. First of all, because I think these are the most words that she has ever spoken to me at one time. But it also surprises me that she knows so much about my personal consumption. Evidently Rhetta is more observant than otherwise thought, and I now have a newfound respect for her observation and recall skills.
I by-pass the lobby and head straight to the bar across from the empty dance floor. The bartender is talking with two flamboyantly dressed boys and a transsexual man. I take my place in a visible spot, but instead of catching the bartender’s attention, only the transsexual acknowledges me with a flirtatious smile. I nod a dispassionate hello to him and lean on the bar to get the bartender’s attention. He finally turns to me and takes my order-a cherry coke in a glass, alcohol-free.
The bartender is a very muscular man with sandy blonde hair and very effeminate body language. In addition to being a bartender, he is also one of the club’s lead bouncers. When I first discovered this long ago, I laughed, thinking that he would scream like a girl if confronted. I have since learned differently after having gotten to know him. He can handle himself quite effectively in a scuffle- as many a quarrelsome patron has come to discover.
I settle into a very uncomfortable stool near the dance floor and sip my cherry coke while letting my eyes follow the gyrating lights. The effect is almost mesmerizing. Meanwhile, more patrons have entered the club. I watch as they start to shuffle past me.
A young man with boyish features, evidently inebriated, begins to stagger sideways in my direction. I instinctively raise a hand to deflect the impending collision when his companion, a middle-aged gentleman, reels him back on track. Relieved, I go back to sipping my cherry coke and enjoying the light-show.
Soon, the younger and the older man are dancing together. The younger man is doing most of the dancing. The older man is struggling desperately to stabilize him.
I turn my attention to the other areas of the club, debating whether to go sit in the den with its big comfy chairs or the balcony with its commanding view. As I am debating, I suddenly become aware of frenetic movement to my right. It is the young, inebriated man dancing at my side. I’m thinking that at this point he seems determined to fall upon me.
He doesn’t fall on me though. Instead he smiles, winks at me, and begins removing articles of his clothing. Shirtless, he moves toward me and begins rubbing his lean buttocks against my outer leg. I am flattered, but not interested. For a moment, I am frozen with shock, not really certain how to respond to this impromptu lap dance.
Suddenly, his elder companion grabs him brutishly and jerks him away. He gives me his most fierce “bitch-I’ll-scratch-your-eyes-out” look and drags his younger companion back to the dance floor. I laugh in bewildered amusement.
During this time, I have decided upon relocating to the balcony-the farthest point from the dancing duo. As I make my way across the club, an extended remix of a Village People song is playing. I resist the urge to mouth the words to “Macho Man”. Instead, I climb the short stairway to the balcony section and sit down in a swivel chair that is unexpectedly comfortable. I lean upon the metal railing and watch the figures below as they sway, circle, dodge, and interact.
I soon find myself falling asleep against the rail’s cool metal. So, I make my way back across the club toward the bar to fetch another cherry coke. Perhaps the caffeine will offset my post-prandial sluggishness. I make it barely three-fourths of the way there when I feel hands upon my shoulders and pressure against my back. My first thought is that it is one of my few acquaintances with whom I bother to associate. Nope, it’s the inebriated young man again. Once again he is disrobing and trying to gyrate against me.
The older companion once again grabs him vigorously, this time forcing him down into a nearby chair. He turns to accost me but, but I am now gone. I am lost in the crowd and on my way to retrieve my coveted cherry coke.
With my drink in hand, I am now sitting quietly on a bedraggled sofa in the club’s lounge. The muted thump of the music echoes from the dance floor. The rhythm is broken only occasionally by the excited howl of a patron. I notice that I am surrounded by groups and couples that are both straight and gay. They seem to be taking no notice of me-and that’s the way I like it.
Something suddenly crashes down hard against my left side. It is the amorous young drunkard again. With his head resting upon my shoulder, he looks at me with his wide, blue eyes and unashamedly asks, “Can I see your penis?”
I look at him more with pity than disgust. He has phrased the question in much the same way as a child may innocently ask for a cookie. I am forced to repress my urge to snicker at the unseemly request.
“No”, I say firmly, but with a kind intonation.
“Why not?”
“It wouldn’t be proper.”
“No one here cares. Really, they don’t.” He whines. And then to my chagrin he to turns the strangers seated around us and loudly asks, “You guys don’t care if he shows me his penis, do you?”
The crowd suddenly erupts into astonished, howling laughter. The once oblivious patrons are now taking an active interest in my personal business. Even Rhetta has put out her cigarette and stepped out among us to see the commotion.
I realize it is time to leave.
The enraged, middle-aged companion is suddenly standing before us with his face contorted in anger.
“And just what do you think you’re doing?” he hisses. I am not sure if the question is directed at the young man or at me.
The angry companion pulls his young lover up to his feet by the arm, and begins pushing him toward the exit.
“C’mon, I’m taking you home!” he barks.
The young man turns to me one last time, and with despondent eyes asks, “Please let me see your penis”
“Maybe next time”, I tease.
“No, neeeeever!” the companion hisses, making a clawing gesture at the air in front of me.
The two of them stager out the exit and disappear. And, once again, I am left to enjoy my solitude. I consider returning to the balcony and watching the drag show which is soon to commence. But, a wave of fatigue has suddenly overtaken me, and I decide instead to just go home.
The thump of the speakers and the sounds of wild mirth fade as I exit the club. It then occurs to me that I am leaving a lonely place for a place of aloneness. Loneliness is not a matter of how many people surround us. It is not something to be quantified on a mathematical basis. But rather, it is about how we relate to ourselves. All the physical presences in the world cannot comfort us until we make friends with that one stranger that we call our self.
I arrive home a little after midnight. The building is quiet except for the low, mechanical hum of the air conditioner. I sit upon my futon, drinking in the silence with a glass of skim milk. I realize that I am happier at this moment than at any time during the course of the evening. Having made friends with myself long ago, I enjoy my own company best. Here, in my home, there is nothing complicated to figure out. There are only the familiar things that make me happy.
Brooke finally did it, she told her parents she was making a big old lesbian baby with me. And it went well. Brooke spent the last week down in Tampa at her mom and step dads while her dad flew down to also spend time with her and her brother. Brooke was beyond petrified to tell her mother and I never quite figured out why. Even though her mom has had trouble with us in the past she has seemed to accept us and her dad is pretty laid back, we figured would be a non-issue. Well oddly enough her mom was thrilled while her dad didn’t have much to say. Her step dad had put two and two together and just assumed we would be doing that. Barb, her mom, is really excited and can’t wait to be a grandma much like my mom. Barb herself has a 6-year-old, so not surprising she likes the little ones around. As it is Barb and Tim, her husband, live in Tampa with Brookes brother and half sister. While her dad lives in Minnesota. The entire family never comes out to visit us. We always have to be the ones to go visit them. And of course Brooke and I resent it. Brooke gets the guilt trip when it’s been too long and I worry about money. We are lucky in the fact that my family lives near us, but I feel if they didn’t my mom would always find reasons to visit. So, with this future baby they are excited about we are hoping that they will start visiting us. We will definitely see. I am also hoping for Brookes sake that her dad will start getting excited and maybe even move out here.
What I find interesting is that for some reason people think that because we are making a baby via insemination rather than the good old fashion way we can pick the sex of the baby. Both her father and step dad asked if we were going to pick. It just goes to show how much people really don’t know what it’s like in other peoples shoes. So many people have been surprised on all we have to go through to get my name on the birth certificate and the fact that I will still have to adopt the baby. I don’t want to say it’s ignorance, why would they have to know these things if it does not affect them? But I feel this contributes to how people vote on such things in elections. Lately on my way home for work there has been an anti-domestic partnership sign. It says protect marriage protect our children man + woman= marriage. On so many levels this sign angers me. One domestic partnership is not marriage and can be entered into by a heterosexual couple. Two how the hell is that endangering to children or even marriage for that fact. Am I going to turn neighbor children gay by getting partnered with Brooke. The way marriage is now I have no respect for it. I rarely see successful marriages and Brooke and I have had no desire to get married. We have decided to take advantage of domestic partnerships in Oregon which was still a big decision. However, that decision came from the desire to protect our future child and family and it was the only way I could have my name on the birth certificate. I know more gay couples that have been together long term over heterosexuals. I am not saying it doesn’t exist I’m just saying that the whole idea of marriage doesn’t prove much. All we want out of the idea is to protect each other and our child. I work with children for a living and not once have I ever endangered them. If anything I have taught them people are different and it doesn’t make them bad. I can’t blame it on religion for these people, I grew up in a Catholic school. What I remember as being the most valuable thing I learned was in third grade when my teacher told us everyone was different and it didn’t matter what religion or what color or whatever someone else was, we were all the same in the eyes of God.
I worry what kind of world we are wanting to bring a child into. I wonder where so much hate and anger comes from. I wonder what makes people hate because of the color of their skin or because who they love. I wonder why fear drives so many people and why parents force their ideals on children. In some ways I have hope for children. More children find it normal for someone to have two mommies or two daddies. I feel the earlier they see it the more normal it is. There is no reason for a child to hate someone because of color or religion or sexuality, someone has to tell them it’s not right. Those are the people I worry about.
for the record dating is overrated..why? well i don’t think i’m really good at it! oh, i’ll warn you now, my moods may seem a little scattered, i tend to be a little emotional on paper.
yeah so, people are always like..date it’s fun. yes, there are moments..but i liken it to emotional purgotory..it’s that special place where you get to be emotionally aloof and it’s cool, all wrapped up in some charm!
you don’t know where it’s going? if it’s going? does she like me, has she changed her mind, oh! she does like me, you can’t like her too much or too little, don’t be needy – EVER, don’t assume, don’t be too available, but don’t ignore her.. all that wrapped into a super-cooled persona…i mean really..*laughing*
and like 80% of the time your pre-occupied with this..does that sound like fun.
maybe, i’m doing it wrong, because the alternative i know more about than i care to..*wink*
anywho, yeah dating..not my thing. every date that i have gone on ultimately ended in some type of relationship or ended. i’m what some refer to as a serial monogomist. something about sex, feelings and time equal relationship in my crazy-assed mind, go figure.
maybe i’m a romantic idealist at heart. perhaps i’m striving for something that is too rare to seek. perhaps i should just let everything be, not push or pull. i’ve come to realize the last statement is the best method.
i got it the buddhist method of dating..let’s see
the eightfold path of dating (note: the eightfold path is the eight principles Buddhists live their life to end suffering. Isn’t that the point, no more lonely nights, over exercised fingers and worn out dildo’s, with xtube and tango wire in heavy rotation..i’m saying you know what I mean.
the eight fold path is
right view – Right view is the beginning and the end of the path, it simply means to see and to understand things as they really are..
right view in the eightfold path of dating, stay present in the moment..stop fantasizing and focus on reality. don’t let your desire color your perception of things. very important, make sure you aren’t buying the commercial, but the real.
right intention – While right view refers to the cognitive aspect of wisdom, right intention refers to the volitional aspect, i.e. the kind of mental energy that controls our actions.
simple what are your intentions, goals, what do you want and how is it influencing your dating life. for example if you want a relationship don’t date unavailable women. if you do, then maybe you should analyze your intentions.
right speech – Right speech is the first principle of ethical conduct in the eightfold path, for example – Positively phrased, this means to tell the truth, to speak friendly, warm, and gently and to talk only when necessary.
i think that one is self-explanatory, but for the sake of consistency…truth is very important when getting to know someone i.e. dating. if they don’t know you, then they can never really ‘like’ or best case scenario ‘love’ you.
right action – Positively formulated, right action means to act kindly and compassionately, to be honest, to respect the belongings of others, and to keep sexual relationships harmless to others.
treat her right and be honest or bounce!
right livelihood – Right livelihood means that one should earn one’s living in a righteous way and that wealth should be gained legally and peacefully.
humm, this one was a little harder to drawn an analogy from..ok got one. don’t date a drug dealer or murderer..it will fuck-up your chi, credit, you may end up in jail, etc. etc.
right effort – Right effort can be seen as a prerequisite for the other principles of the path. Without effort, which is in itself an act of will, nothing can be achieved, whereas misguided effort distracts the mind from its task, and confusion will be the consequence.
you get what you put into it, collectively. you can bring lemons/water and she brings salt and you’ve got on nasty-ass drink. simply stated you both have to be on the same page with the same goals, apply the same care and blah, blah, blah into it. you feel me!
right mindfulness – Right mindfulness is the controlled and perfected faculty of cognition. It is the mental ability to see things as they are, with clear consciousness
practice makes perfect, if your dating that means you haven’t perfected ‘faculty of cognition’ it means something has ended, and something is beginning. depending on how present and accepting you are in your moments, allow yourself to be accept the truths revealed..this will determine whether you are seeing things as they truly are. simply, don’t kid yourself, you know if it’s going somewhere or not, or if you want it to go anywhere at all.
right concentration – Right concentration for the purpose of the eightfold path means wholesome concentration, i.e. concentration on wholesome thoughts and actions.
my favorite, positive thinking always. the glass is half full, everything happens for a reason, there is always a lesson to be learned. nothing happens in a vacuum. i think you get it!
So this is my lay attempt at applying the eightfold path to your dating life! Oh, also a friend once revealed to me when dating it doesn’t always have to go somewhere..how do you feel about! It is what it is! i will reserve my opinion about this comment for another post.
Ok, I know that my gaydar has been broken, off, and shattered since high school.. But, this new Final Fantasy character, Lightening, I’m already in love with her.. hehe I’m sensing a strong lesbian vibe here, people!!
Come on, doesn’t she look like a dyke to you? *sigh* So sexeh!
If she’s not one in the game, then she’s totally in the closet, I tell you.
Oh, but more seriously.. It almost feels like I am the only one psyched for the new final fantasy.. Am I really that old? I’m not about to stop playing games anytime soon, alright?
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Happy same sex sunday funday everyone! I was on twitter this morning and decided to ask the question “is it a good idea to date your best friend.” The answers were mixed….Enjoy!
@jessdamess784 – no, very hard to rebuild the frienship if yall break up
@Elusiva – That’s a bad idea.. If u breakup there goes the friendship¤
@KkEeSsHh – Yes and No. Yes because they know you better then any1.. and no because if it doesnt work.. sometimes u lose your bestfriend.
@sincerlynay – Do you think its a good idea to date ur best friend? — ugh no not at all. I love her, but not that damn much. lol
@RokeRokeCjr – YES..SHE’S UR BFF FOR A REASON..WHO KNOWS U BETTER THAN HER..CLD POSSIBLY BE UR SOULMATE..IF NOT O WELL..TAKE THE CHANCE!!
@stardeezi – Never! i wouldnt cross that line bc there’s no going back
@myHIdefLyfe – RE depends on the type of friendship
@MizThickums – WHY NOT?? THE ONLY CHANGE WOULD BE Y’ALL FU@$%NG… OOWWWW
Taming a lesbian is considerably harder than taming a wild animal. Part of the reason lesbians are hard to win over is because most of them come with a lot of baggage. If you meet a lesbian who has had it easy in life, then please call me and tell me ,as I want to meet her. Whenever I date a new lesbian, I learn something new about the different types of baggage lesbians carry around.
Over the past two decades I have dated two women who were molested by a family member, a rape victim, a woman who grew up neglected by her family, a survivor of mental abuse, a bi-polar victim, a woman who suffered physical abuse at home, a girl who fought with agoraphobia and several women who showed no outward signs of carrying extra baggage. After a track record like that, you become jaded and assume that all women have some heavy baggage they’re effected by. You must resist being jaded and remind yourself that we all suffer some and should not reject another female simply because she has endured hardship.
Life is like an airport….or is it a box of chocolates. No disrespect to Forest Gump, but I prefer the airport comparison. Whatever simile you prefer, life is tough. We are always on a journey, busy preparing for new starts and endings. A smile from a stranger or a helping hand with the baggage when it gets too heavy is most appreciated and can make all the difference when the weight bears down on us.
Thinking about times in my life when a lesbian completely won me over with her compassion, I can truly say that nothing is better. Good sex is mind-blowing, but a helping hand when things are tough bonds me to someone on a much deeper level. We all seek the light at the end of the tunnel. Women are often that light. Bravo for the women who shine the beacon to guide the rest of us through.
What does she really want? What does she really need? What does she really desire? This past week has been amazing in so many ways. I’ve seen her open up like never before, and it was beautiful. I’ve felt myself open up like never before, and it feels awesome! I started down this path not knowing where it was leading, but with one concern (the concern that prompted the start of this blog): what fundamental needs of hers are not being met, being a bisexual in a traditional monogamous heterosexual relationship? What affects will this have in the long term if they’re not met? Sex talk for a while has mainly been the inclusion of a mysterious, unnamed third person – another girl. Even outside of sex talk she’s revealed another girl as being such a huge turn-on. After a couple open, honest, revealing talks (mentioned earlier), I researched bi-poly relationships (bisexual polyamorous). I wanted to prepare myself for if she wanted to explore this fantasy in real life. I wanted to know the fundamentals, the good, the bad, and the ugly truth of polyamory. Wikipedia has a great, detailed explanation of everything polyamorous. It wasn’t as bad as I thought, and it seemed more realistic. In a way, it seems to force such noble ideals as trust, openness, honesty, fidelity, communication, and mutual respect – things that are necessary foundations of any strong, successful relationship except this would be times two. I found a lesbian couple who had an ad out seeking a third woman for a long term triad relationship. I emailed the woman who posted the ad asking many questions about real life triads and how they told their kids, how they are received by their families and their community.
With sufficient research behind me, we did discuss her fantasies and her needs and the possibilities to fulfill them. Just as I thought we were connecting on the same page so completely, she said she had mulled it over and was thinking if we did bring a girl into our relationship, then it would be her right to sleep with other men – since I would be fucking another girl. Right then, in my mind, I scrapped the whole idea of fulfilling her bisexual needs through a polyamorous triad. Either she is already getting very jealous (which is said to be the biggest hurdle to overcome in such relationships), or she has other needs that she hasn’t shared with me yet (if there are any other possible reasons, please share with me!). That statement sounded to me like the point of all of this was totally lost. I thought the whole point was to address deeper bisexual needs that would almost need to be forever repressed if we didn’t either break up or find a solution to her desires to also be with women. I reminded her that all my needs are already met, so I don’t have any unresolved sexual repressions and this is about her needs. I’m not wanting an open relationship. I don’t want to sleep around, just like I don’t want my life partner to sleep around. A polyamorous triad seems like the best solution: a third person we share and continue to be faithful to each other. Three mutual lovers who genuinely care about each other. Open, honest, faithful. Her mentioning her “right” to sleep with other men makes me feel she’s not getting her heterosexual needs met by me. It is a big blow (that’s what she said) to my masculine security. She was quickly becoming very closed off and defensive that I just told her that if she needed a one-sided open relationship so that she can sleep with other women AND men, that she should just do it. She said that’s not what she wants, but who knows what she really wants – or needs. I thought I had an idea, but I guess I was wrong.
When I tried to bring it up again later, she vehemently claimed she explained herself completely and we talked a lot about it already. She originally stated her “right” not too long prior at a time when we were not in a position to discuss anything at the moment, and there was no explanation or discussion anytime thereafter, so I guess she’s feeling maybe cornered or maybe like she misspoke or maybe she needs time to collect her thoughts and feelings first before saying anything more. I have no idea. I just know she was once so open this week and it was beautiful, and now she’s such a mystery once more.
ok so this isn't one from our neighborhood fleet, but it's damn near close. heaven forbid i try to take a picture of one and it might stop thinking i was some hepatitis softsorve.
please??? just one day. all i’m asking for is one day without “pop goes the weasel” or some other numnuts half-assed tune jangling full blast down our street.
oh the neighborhood ice cream truck. or trucks, as i honest to goodness don’t know if it’s one truck or a whole fleet of ‘em (i mean, can you tell roaches apart? not really! you see my point). sometimes i think they’re gonna be the end of me. like, they are gonna drive me to drink. and i am not a drinker.
“honey,” i often say to holly, usually when i’m fighting a migraine late in the day, when i just want dark and i just want quiet. “i swear, if we had a gun and i was a different person, i’d blow the speaker right offa that thing.”
“i know, honey,” she says soothingly. “i know you would…shhhh…”
it starts waaaay before memorial day, these ghetto-ass ice cream ice cream trucks and their gosh-forsakin music. i don’t know what time of day they start (after all, i’ve been doing the whole m-f, 9-5 thing, until now, that is, ha) but i’ll tell you what time they do stop: LATE.
now you tell me: what type of ice cream truck is still blaring its damn music and sitting on street corners at 10 or 11 p.m.? is it just me or do you think these trucks are selling more than just ice cream? i’ve even called the cops on them.
“hello, police.”
“uh, hello,” i say, my voice a combination of intense irritation and exhaustion. “there is an ice cream truck in our neighborhood that will. not. quit. it’s almost 11 at night! i’m trying to sleep! i have to work tomorrow!”
then the operator tells me that they really can’t do anything about it until after 11 p.m. or some other such bullsh*t. and then i hang up and curse this city and its supreme ghettoness. the worst is when at the tail end of summer, they start playing christmas music. “silent night”? at 97 degrees and 99 percent humidity? try that one on for size.
here’s another funny thing: all this time–for three years now–holly and i thought these trucks were selling, you know, your typical packaged ice cream…sandwiches, popsicles, that sort of thing. then we find out–as holly approached the doggone truck in a moment of sheer i-need-ice-cream-now weakness over the summer–that the doggone thing sells soft serve. who in their right mind would buy friggin soft serve from a ghettoass baltimore ice cream truck that blares “silent night” in the middle of summer, at 10 p.m., that probably hasn’t been cleaned since 1965??
actually i do know one person. our welder. the guy who welded the industrial-style steel staircase in our house. all the sudden it’s coming back to me how he used to buy milkshakes from those trucks when he was working in here. he was also going thru major morphine withdrawl from a 60-some ft. fall on his face. but you see where i’m going w/this.
anyway, i know it’s hard in this town, but all i’m asking for is a little peace and quiet.
Title
Battle Of The Babes: Alektra Blue vs. Amy Ried
Genres
All Sex,Anal, Gonzo, Lesbian, Threesome
Actors
Alektra Blue, Amy Ried, Courtney Cummz, Nikki Benz, Pat Myne
Studio
3rd Degree
Review
Take 2 of the hottest, nastiest, horniest little sluts and match them up scene for scene, blow job for blow job, pussy pounding for pussy pounding, ass fucking for ass fucking. What do you get? 2 cock-filled, cum-drenched, well-fucked, ass-gaping nymphets? that really just love to FUCK. We call it ?Battle of the Babes?.
Ohioans wanting to change their gender on state-issued driver’s licenses or identification cards no longer have to have their body parts medically altered, under a new policy introduced by the Bureau of Motor Vehicles this month.
In the past, transgender Ohioans had to obtain letters from physicians as proof that they had completed full sex-change operations to change the gender listing.
Under the new policy, launched this week, affected residents submit a form signed by their physician or a licensed therapist or psychologist that they are living as the opposite gender, whether surgical procedures have been completed or not.
The new form includes space identifying applicants’ birth gender, their “gender identification” and their “gender change.” Physicians or psychologists must certify that the applicant “is sufficiently ready for, or has completed a gender role transition, and it is intended this role change is to be permanent,” according to the form. “This transition may or may not lead to further surgical intervention.”
Translated, that means they do not necessarily have to complete gender reassignment surgery to qualify, said Lindsay Komlanc, spokeswoman for the Ohio Department of Public Safety.
“In that physician or therapist’s mind, they have completed the process to the extent possible for that person,” she said.
Komlanc said the new policy was developed after members of the transgender community approached the state agency about the process of changing one’s gender on driver’s licenses.
“Not everyone who has the desire to have the full operation actually has the means for it,” she said. “It is a very long process from the start to the completion of when it actually occurs. [And] not everyone is actually physically able or healthy enough to have the operation. … In the event that the person cannot have the operation, for whatever reason, the therapist can certify that they have been working with the person and that person is truly living as whichever gender it is.”
Komlanc said a very small percentage of issued licenses are affected by the change. Of the 8 million state-issued licenses and identification cards, fewer than 10 annually fell under former gender-change policy. About five applications have been submitted under the new one.
Transgender Ohioans must request the new form. Those who are in transition must submit a new one every time they renew their license. Anyone failing to submit the forms during license renewal will have their gender designation switched back to the original, Komlanc said.
Through no fault of my own (well, okay, it was purely my fault to begin with), I am bald. Not quite bald, but my head is shaved shorter than the buzz cut my 9-year-old kid is sporting. Backstory: when HTB and I broke up, I did everything I could to distance myself from all that he preferred about me. He liked my hair a bit longer, kind of curly, and never jet black. Immediately, I took my own clippers and a box of hair dye from the local drugstore and turned myself into a 44-year-old goth kid with short black spikes and kohl-rimmed eyes. This phase lasted well through my mourning period. Lately, with fall coming on and my propensity for self-transformation with the seasons, I went to the salon to have my color lightened to something in the dark auburn family.
Little did I know that when you used multiple boxes of Garnier Nutrisse in blackest black, the process is tantamount to putting shoe polish on your hair. It is impossible to lighten. But we tried. First we did a clarifying shampoo. Nothing. 30 minutes of a clarifying treatment under the hair dryer and my hair smelled like death but emerged with spotty patches of brown intermixed with that stubborn jet black. My brilliant idea was to just strip all the color off and put on a golden wash and I’d be blonde. Fine by me…I’d been platinum once before I got preggers and it was actually kind of fun. So, 50 minutes of peroxide later, my hairdresser throws up her hands after examining the results—now five shades of burnt follicles. Ouch. My head felt as though I’d been bathing in a vat of ammonia. “Nicki?” I said, “Let’s just shave it off.”
She was mortified. She recently had to shave the head of a colleague who was facing chemotherapy. She couldn’t imagine a perfectly healthy woman asking her to shave her head as though she’d just asked for a drink of water. But, hey, it’s just hair, right? I went back yesterday morning and sat in the chair with a fairly nonchalant attitude. I watched as she tentatively started from the back, asking me constantly if I was sure. My son stared wide-eyed next to me as chunks of hair fell to the floor. I was okay with this. Really. And then she did the sides. Wow. That’s short. I now had a mohawk. Interesting. That gone, the only thing left on my head was 1/2 inch of blonde and white virgin hair (the blonde due to the bleach which had aggressively attacked my naturally dark roots). Okay. It’s done. I can do this. I can do this. I can do this.
There are many women out there who completely rock the androgynous look. Some are so feminine with gorgeous thin faces, great bone structure, and lithe bodies. I will admit to being an attractive woman. I am not conventionally beautiful. The only thing I was truly happy about after the fact was that my head has a nice shape to it. I could pick apart my facial flaws, but I won’t. However, I immediately went home and darkened my lipstick and my eyeliner, put on a skirt, and the largest hoop earrings in my extensive jewelry collection. I do NOT rock the androgynous look, nor do I want to.
I have nothing against those who buck the binary gender system. Truly, this comes from a woman who was engaged to a transman. A woman who gravitates toward the butchest of women. Those who wear men’s clothes and men’s cologne and get “sir’d” left and right. I, myself, do not have a masculine bone in my body, nor do I want one. I love being high femme. I love everything about being a girlie girl. I am a strong, independent, assertive, and sometimes intimidating woman, but I am by no means interested in looking anything but really, really femme.
I got up this morning and looked in the mirror. What reflected back at me was this make-up free woman with a blonde crewcut. She was androgynous. She was me. I worry that my lovers will not be pleased with this new look. In church this morning I got all manner of responses from “are you okay, dear?” to “you work that look, girl!” to “oh, well, honey…you can always try a wig.” You know what? I fucking LOVE this hair! I have no bedhead. I did nothing after I showered but towel dry it. Everyone is saying that they think it will be so cute to watch what happens as it grows out. Guess what? I may not LET IT! I may decide to keep it! Hell, I’ve got the balls to do it. I CAN rock this hair. And if I happen to rock androgyny while I’m doing it, so the fuck what? Yeah, former HTB probably hates it and won’t want to be seen in public with me. Um…give a shit, much? And as for anyone else, if you really care about me, you really don’t care what I look like. Hair or no hair.
I think I’ll send a photo of the new me to Queer Eye Candy. ‘Cause, baby, I’m workin’ it.
I have been seeing a married man for 4 months, he is 54 years old but very fit, we meet twice a week he takes me shopping and buys me little things and we have dinner and the day usually ends with me sucking his large cock in the car in a secluded car park where he verbally abuses me as I suck on his cock, calling me a whore bitch cunt etc. it never gets physical, and once he cums he is back to the kind man I first met.
Once a month he takes a hotel room where its me that get pampered, he takes care of me, he sucks my pussy and clit and keeps me on the edge of the most wonderful orgasm, for what seems like and eternity, before finally letting me cum, we have dinner and then he does whatever I want more oral or he fucks me how I want and with the help of a cock ring as long as I want.
It is balanced against all this that I have my dilemma, he has asked me to seduce his wife, and to let him watch when I make love to her, she is an attractive 37 year old with a very hot body natural red head, but she is extremely sexually repressed, my lover told me he only gets to make love to her once a month with the lights off, he never gets to see her naked.
I wear red lace panties under my short skirt, my lover has given me his wife’s routine and I decide to target her at the library. I see her enter the library and I cross the road and enter too. She goes straight to the romantic fiction section, this sexually repressed woman is getting her sexual fix reading bodice ripping stories.
She is wearing a plain skirt, jacket and a blouse tan tights and flat shoes, the skirt just below the knee, she blended into the background. But today she would shine, I would see to that, my lover had arranged a suite in a hotel, and if (when I was successful) I was to call him and he would get to the hotel and set up a video camera in the wardrobe leave a suitcase with my clothing and settle into the room next door with a recorder and screen to watch.
I start working on her, I go for more coffee and while I’m at the counter two buttons open on my top revealing my red lace bra which is filled to over flowing with the my milk white boobs, always a good idea to have one bra a up size too small. I came back with the coffee’s and sat down crossing my long nylon encased legs and letting Shauna see my tiny red lace panties covering my bald mound under my short skirt, I make a big fuss of pulling my short skirt down. I ask about her life she tells me all about her marriage and how her husband is never interested in sex, a clear case of non communication I think, either that or I’m the one being set up.
We are both chatting like we have known each other for years, I run my fingers up and down my chest occasionally slipping my finger into my mouth, as I chat, like I’m oblivious to it. By now we are on our 4th coffee and my bladder is screaming for release, so I have now arrived at the crunch time and say I need to go to the bathroom. Shauna says she needs to go too, I stand and look for the bathroom Shauna, takes my elbow and leads me o the back of the library through swing doors and along a short corridor to the bathroom she opens the door and we go in. The bathroom in not one with several stalls it has only one and a small area with a basin. Shauna tells me to go first, I’m pulling up my skirt as I enter the stall, giving Shauna a nice view of my ass and the thin strip of material which nestled between my tight ass cheeks. I hunker down and let a hot stream of wee splash noisily into the toilet, I reach for the toilet tissue and wrap a few sheets round my hand and reach between my legs and wipe, I stand and pull my panties up till they cup my pussy and the strip of material sits comfortable between my ass cheeks, I flush the toilet as I leave pulling my skirt back down.
Shauna brushes past me as I deliberately block her entry, she turns to close the door, but I’m standing in the way, looking into the mirror as I wash my hands, Shauna, by now is desperate and is forced to pull her skirt up and pull her full white cotton pants down and squat allowing the stream to gush into the toilet bowl, I move and the door swings slightly closed, as I dry my hands, I hear Shauna taking the toilet tissue off the roll, as I open the outer door and exit into the corridor leaving Shauna to finish and wash her hands.
The door is yanked open forcefully, it was obvious that Shauna had assumed I was leaving. She spoke before thinking and said ’Thank god’.
I smiled said, ’Sorry, did you say something’?
‘No‘, she replied way too quickly.
Now was the time to strike and I invited her back to the hotel for some lunch.
Shauna accepted and we were walking to my car, I stopped and said I had to text the office first. Once I finished texting we walked off like two old friends. It took us twenty minutes to get to the hotel, it would have taken him 5 minutes allowing him plenty of time to set everything up. We went into the bar for a quick drink before having lunch, it was now that I finally trapped Shauna, I accidentally spilt my white wine on my top, my nipples stiffened immediately the liquid touched the material, Shauna noticed and blushed, she was obviously interested in me, I was probably the first person who had taken any interest in her in an age, so she was flattered by my attention, she even lied to me when we talked about our ages when she heard I was 22 she dropped her age to 29 and God she certainly would have passed for 29 easily.
I tell Shauna I will go up to my room and change, I uncross my legs allowing Shauna another look at my panty clad pussy as I move to stand, I begin walking, then stop and invite Shauna up to the room as the bar is filling up with the usual predatory males. Shauna nods and walks to the elevator as I detour across to the desk for my key, before joining her.
When I open the door, I allow Shauna to enter in front of me, she sits on the bed, I stand and pull my wet top off and unhook my bra letting my milky white breasts spring into the cool air of the hotel room, I took my boobs in my hands and squeezed the soft flesh, I look at Shauna as I continue to caress my boobs a couple of feet in front of her, then I fling my head back and let out a low moan as my fingers play with my stiff nipples.
Shauna looks round the room struggling not to stare at me, I turn and walk into the bathroom and turn on the shower, I slip my skirt off before walking back into room, I speak to Shauna I think I will just have a quick shower, I won’t be minutes then we can go down for lunch, turning away from Shauna I hook my finger under the waistband of my tiny panties I slide them down bending allowing Shauna to stare at my pussy which by now was wet and puffy as I was really getting into this sexy woman, my pussy scent filling the room. In the mirror I saw Shauna squirming on the bed, and grabbed my chance, I called over my shoulder as I walked into the bathroom, ’Why don’t you join me’?
It was now Shauna had to make a decision as I stepped into the hot spray, deliberately staring at the wall, as the water cascaded over me. It seemed like forever till I saw Shauna’s shadow on the tiles, then her hand moving round my waist as she stepped into the shower. I handed her the shower gel and let her wash me, her hands glided all over me, she took plenty of time soaping up my boobs as my hand moved between her legs and massaged her clit, while she rubbed her breasts on my back. I let my head go back against her shoulder, turning our lips met and I tasted the gin as my tongue slid into her hot wet mouth. I turned in Shauna’s arms and pressed myself against her as my leg moved between Shauna’s I felt her hard nub and ground my leg against it causing her to gasp out as I worked my tongue on her stiff nipple nipping and sucking, suddenly Shauna’s orgasm smashed through her and she clung on to me, as she rode her orgasm
We kissed and hugged but I wanted to taste her really bad now and I needed to get off, duh I had forgot about my lover in the next room, so I suggested we move on to the bed, and grabbing up the towels we moved into the room and I lay on the bed, Shauna climbed on the bed and sat astride me her sexy ass facing the wardrobe, as she kissed me her tongue in my mouth as she pinned my arms above my head then she squiggled down her wet pussy on my belly, she sat up and pinched both my nipples between her fingers and thumbs, my clit tingled with each twist as she played with the turgid flesh. I moaned and squirmed under her, I reached up to give her nipples the same attention, but she pushed my hand away and ordered me to keep them above my head. This surprised me, but I went along with her and let her dominate me.
She reached behind and played with my clit as she twisted each nipple in turn, my heart was beating like a drum, I felt the blood coursing through my body and centred on my clit. Shauna was making me cum and it felt so wonderful, I was like putty in her hands, my mind was unable to comprehend anything other than I wanted Shauna to make me cum and I knew this was going to be soon , my anus was pulsing and my pussy rippling I felt my orgasm in my tummy and …………….. Oh God …………… Oh God ……… Shauna slid two fingers hard into my pulsing pussy and …… Oh God, I felt my pussy cum erupting round Shauna’s fingers, I closed my eyes as Shauna rammed her fingers deep inside me allowing her thumb to press against my clit sending me even higher this was one orgasm to write in my diary, so I lay back and Shauna lay along me making the ultimate contact, her leg pressing over my clit and she humped my leg which was slick with her juices and mine, she slipped her tongue into my mouth and I sucked on it like it was a tiny cock, it took me a few more moments to realise my hands were still above my head clutching the pillow.
My hands moved down pins and needles tingled through my fingers as I grabbed two handfuls of Shauna’s ass helping her ride my thigh. I pulled her ass cheeks open and closed, then I slide a finger between her sexy globes and toyed with her anal opening teasingly circling and then pressing on the opening, Shauna went wild and shoved back on my finger I took the hint and pressed my finger on the puckered opening and finally the tip of my finger pushed past the sphincter and entered her ass, Shauna bucked frantically as I pumped my finger in and out and twisting with each stroke. Shauna stiffened and ground her clit hard down on my thigh and I felt the warm wetness flooding from her as she sucked on my tongue hard so hard that it hurt me, but Shauna was lost in her orgasm, it flashed through my mind that I was glad I was not a guy receiving a blowjob when she came.
The rest of the morning and much of the afternoon was spent making slow sensual love with this beautiful woman taking turns in leading the love making. At around 8pm, I suddenly realised that apart from pussy and ass I had had nothing to eat all day, and called down to the reception for dinner for 2 to be sent up to the room. The receptionist told me that my lover had left a message, she apologised for not giving it to me on my arrival I asked her to read it, ‘Held up at office, switch your phone on’. I thanked her and hung up, I opened my bag and switched my phone on seven texts for him, asking me to postpone as he can’t get away. All these were timed before we had arrived at the hotel, it was only then that I noticed that my suitcase was not there. Ahh well there was a knock at the door ‘room service’, dinner was here wrapped in a towel I opened the door and the waiter brought it in and Shauna was sitting combing her hair similarly clad like me in a towel, I handed him a ten pound note as he left I rubbed his bottom, and winked at him, he blushed, ‘bless him’.
After dinner we lay and kissed on the bed completely exhausted and satisfied. I woke in the early hours, feeling the bed shaking, Shauna had her fingers deep in her pussy masturbating, ‘Here, let me’, I said and replaced her fingers with mine and slipping my tongue into her mouth. This led to yet another session which saw us both cumming simultaneously and falling asleep her fingers in me and mine in her. I woke alone in the room.
Shauna left me her phone number and a note, telling me that I was the sexiest lover her husband had had, and that she had known about me since the start of the affair. She said to call her anytime, and she was glad I was taking care of him. It seems that her reluctance making love with her husband was that she had simply fallen out of love with him. She begged me not to tell him we had ever met, she had been aware of his plans and since it was her that owned the business she had arranged for him to be kept at the office, god I love this woman, she’s my type of lady
Why is it that because I am a femme I can only talk about gender in a women the oppressed versus men the oppressor dichotomy? I am not even taken seriously when discussing anything else. I appear to be gender conforming, so what could I possibly know about gender? My place is women’s studies, not gender studies, and even that place is questionable.
I am limited to the ideas set forth by other gender non-conformists; I must regurgitate what they have already done. Anything that I think or say that doesn’t fit within that paradigm is automatically discredited and dismissed. But only letting gender non-conformists write the theory and blaze the trail is like saying only people with heart conditions can be cardiologists, advise people on their heart conditions and perform research in the field.
And while my appearance of femme may match my sex, that doesn’t mean everything about me does. I am not your stereotypical passive femme or woman, for that matter; I am powerfemme. For while I may appear to be a conforming female on the outside, that label certainly doesn’t describe my inside. I do lots of things that men do, but I am labeled a bitch for doing so as a woman.
So keep this in mind: We are all in this together, and we are all oppressed by the gender binary.
Considering that my only blog contribution so far has been two pessimistic, slightly misanthropic comments, I’ll try to keep this post on the light side (no promises). While reading and discussing the selections from Intimate Matters, it became more and more clear that 1) sexuality is made, usually by the dominant power group, rather than natural and 2) the construction of sexuality, sexual mores and sexual prohibitions are often incredibly complicated. We, or at least I, tend to think of American from the seventeenth century to the pre-hippie 1960s as following a pretty constant sexual script. The degree of overall prude-ness might fluctuate, but always against the constant backdrop of sex in marriage and the chaste female. Turns out, not only are different positions in the social hierarchy—racial and economic “others” are very visible examples– judged by and subjected to varying norms (still imposed or perpetuated or relied upon by those of higher status), but a fundamental “fact” can reverse with time—even if its subject remains the same. To be more specific, women were once seen as sexually and emotionally capricious; Eves walking around in contemporary garb instead of conspicuous grape leaves. Men were rational, capable of restraining themselves and the “lesser” sex. Somewhere in the mix of history, politics, culture and who knows else, the story was gradually transformed—women evolved from sinners into domestic goddesses, guardians of family morals. Men were neatly absolved of self control and their previous supervisory responsibilities—it was women’s duty to save them. These two extremes clearly show the capricious and often contradictory manifestations of “sexuality.” This idea perfectly jives with an innocuous but amusing fact that I heard two years ago in an intro pysch class. The professor was going over biological theories of homosexuality when she mentioned in passing that the “homosexuals” involved in medical and psychological studies are largely male. Apparently scientists consider female sexuality too “fluid” and “open” to be confidently relied upon and measured. An “educated” view that bears a disturbing resemblance to the oversexed young male’s view that lesbians are hot, but sex acts between two men is just, well…gay.
Title
Drunk Sex Orgy White Sensation
Genres
All Sex, Gonzo, Orgy, Lesbian
Actors
Christina Lee, Cindy Dollar, Jessica Fiorentino, Katy Sweet, Nessa Devil, Tina Gabriel
Studio
Eromaxx
Review
Are you fucking kidding me!? The legendary DSO Eurobabe sex party has taken its wicked orgy debauchery to the next level, enforcing a white-only dress code that makes the beautiful porn starlets even more blindingly hot while filling the club with an aura of steamy white that creates the perfect atmosphere for all things drunk, horny, and ready for anything!
Title
Party Hardcore 37
Genres
All Sex, Orgy, Lesbian
Actors
Amateurs
Studio
Eromaxx
Review
The music is loud, lights are flashing, drinks are flowing, and the amateur cuties are getting out of control – to say the least! Actually, these girl-next-door bitches are just damn wild – so much so that the sight of male flesh makes their sexy party pussies start dripping something fierce, sending their cooters into an uproar as they compete to see how much cock they can suck in the course of a single evening.
Tomorrow Night: Friday, September 18th is Equality Works Night at Out North!
Are you feeling drained after this summer’s activities surrounding AO 64 and searching for a way to re-energize your political and emotional batteries? Are you simply in need of a laugh after months of high drama?
If so, you should join us at Out North for a presentation of performance artist’s Tim Miller’s “Lay of the Land,” a show that explores the current state of the Queer Union with sharp insight and humor, and deftly taps into the emotional experience of what it’s like to be “perpetually on trial, on the ballot, and on the menu.”
Miller has been closely following the public hearings surrounding AO 64, the Assembly’s 7-4 vote, and the Mayor’s veto and he is looking forward to a post-show discussion with all of you. Let’s give him a big Anchorage welcome!
“Jennifer’s Body” will definitely be one of our favorite movies this year!
The dangerously sexy scenes with Megan Fox topless are the main reason, but let’s not overlook the kissing scenes with her stage partner, Amanda Seyfriend, !
You should know that the lesbian kiss scene lasts 30 seconds and Megan has shown to be excited by the idea to kiss a girl, saying she feels safer with a girl and she has nothing against bisexuals.
so I went to the grocery store today dressed pretty much in the typical “mom” attire. Nothing special, not trying to be attractive or anything and not dyke-looking, etc; just plain old boring clothes. I felt so stupid walking around and so uncomfy in those clothes. I just wanted to go home and take a shower, fix my hair and put on some clothes I feel suit me. I didn’t really want to be out in public like that, but when you are a busy mom you don’t always have the time to look how you want.
I am still overweight from having the baby, so i don’t have a lot of good clothes that fit me right now and we really don’t have a lot of money to shop for new ones. I try to find deals where I can; yet it is hard to do some real shopping with 3 kids in tow most of the time. I also want to loose weight and am actively trying to do so, so i don’t want to spend money on something I won’t wear that long. It is such a lose-lose situation right now. I have a lot more clothes I can wear once I lose some more weight. I really think I need to bite the bullet and go ahead and buy some for now before I go insane. I don’t really care too much what other people think about how I look as long as I think I look good, hehe. I hate it when I feel unattractive and slobby and don’t feel I am expressing myself how I want to.
Anyway, that leads me to think about my hubby and how he feels sometimes when he is out in public with me. A lot of times I do look like quite the dyke. Most of the time I tone it down so that I don’t affect him too much. If i were fully out and in the lifestyle, I would prolly be shopping in the men’s section a heck of a lot more. I just can’t always find what I am looking for in the women’s section. It is annoying. Especailly all the stupid stretchy pants, ugh, I hate those things. Anyway, I know if he felt comfy walking around in dresses or something like that, I would not really want to be seen with him in public as my husband, lol. So I worry sometimes how he feels but he never seems to care or say anything. He usually finds me attractive, it’s weird. Unless he just says that to be nice cuz he loves me, lol.
Total crush on Jennifer Nettles, the lead singer of Sugarland. Combination of voice, guitar-skills, songs (particularly “Stay” and “All I Want to Do“), and natural style. First became aware of her from the “Stay” video, which I love due to its simplicity, just footage of her and her guitar-playing partner. No special effects, no bikini-clad honeys, no six-inch heels, no expensive set. And as she sings, her eyes fill with tears until she has to stop to compose herself. Oh, heartstrings. Tale has it that she genuinely teared up due to the lyrics and instead of cutting the film, the videographer decided to continue shooting and they ended up using that footage.
You would think that tradition only lived where it was born. And you would be wrong. It follows you wherever you are; it’s not something you can separate yourself from. Surely something will give you away—the way you speak, the way you dress, the way you struggle to keep your shoes on when you enter a house because you’re just so used to taking them off, your slit eyes.
Wilhelmina grew up in the States, but was raised Chinese. She grew up in a liberal culture, and has assimilated into a kind of life that seems perfectly normal—except it doesn’t; at least not for her family.
Her widow mother, comically portrayed as a stubborn yet deeply understanding woman, drags her to regular get-togethers of the Chinese community, where Wilhelmina is expected to find her future husband. (Why, her mother asks, is she wearing men’s clothes again?) It is at these get-togethers that we see how high the expectations are to fulfill what has been dictated by tradition, culture, and elders.
Along the course of the story, Wilhelmina does meet someone, a childhood friend she has forgotten, and something begins between her and Vivian. Wil holds back. Vivian tells her, in a line I cannot forget, “you’re too scared to look the world in the eye and let it watch you fall in love.”
Together, mother and daughter learn about each other, learn to support each other, and learn to stand up for themselves. In a way uncharacteristic of the expected subtleties, they break away from the restricting concepts of arranged marriage, sexuality, and shame.
I appreciated the character of Wilhelmina’s African-American best friend, a laid back guy who thinks Wil worries too much. He gives comic relief that is welcome but unnecessary (this is a very light story), and it is for him that all the nuances of Chinese culture need to be explained.
Also, I enjoyed how the Chinese culture was illustrated, but I wouldn’t be able to tell whether or not it was accurate. Our Philippine culture, though, did seem quite similar, albeit much less blatantly imposed. Culture is just as much part of one’s identity as sexuality is.
Don’t be too shocked that I was only 17 when I started. I was an old 17, if you know what I mean. If you really want something to wring your hands about, then move straight on to the fact that this happened in the Republic of Ireland where it was and still is illegal, or how about the fact that this was before mobile phones and the internet so most of my custom came via word of mouth. How did they know where to find me? Easy. Same time every day, I could be found standing near the 24 hour garage just outside of my home town. I was a street walker. I loved it.
I’d lost my virginity at 14 to a 28-year-old who assured me that he loved me (maybe he did), I dumped him after 6 months when I found out he was fucking someone else. My first love showed me that I had to pay attention. That I couldn’t just believe everything people told me. I thank him for that, it’s served me well. He also taught me plenty in the bedroom.
I was a willing student, I’d been frantically masturbating for about a year and I was probably in danger of wearing something away (or going blind). My Dad’s stash of magazines in the garage had introduced me to words like ‘climax’ and ‘cum’, but more importantly they had introduced me to my genitals. I went to an all girl Catholic school, so someone had to.
I remember the day I lost my virginity. It was a complete let down. Not for him, he was happy enough. The sex was disappointing. Just 5 dull minutes of rubbing. Of course in hindsight I understand that I needed to learn to do it right. I learned a lot in those first 6 months. I’m glad I did because the furtive shags in darkened rooms that I had over the next couple of years with boys my own age were almost enough to put me off for life.
I learned that I loved getting fucked. I’m not talking about making love. I’m talking good old fashioned ‘do me against the wall, do it now, do it hard and then do it again’. I also learned over time that I had a definite preference for older men. Damn handy in the whoring trade. I also started to discover my kinks. I liked men to be rough with me. I wanted men to be men, but there was a balance. I also started to notice women. Yes, I wanted my men to be dangerous, but I wanted my women to be soft and pretty. All the girls I knew had the same strict Catholic upbringing as I had. There was zero chance of me asking any of them to experiment with me. In rural Ireland, the word Lesbian was still whispered. So, I ignored it. I put it away. For the time being at least and I continued my regular whoring with the farmers and truck drivers.
While growing numbers of people are seeking help through bankruptcy, gay and lesbian families face additional hurdles because the Bankruptcy Code is federal law and does not recognize same-sex marriage. Same-sex couples cannot declare a “joint bankruptcy” under federal law. Instead, each partner must file his or her own bankruptcy petition and protect those joint assets the best they can through individual state and federal exemptions. While straight married couples are jointly responsible for each other’s debts and assets under state law, the federal Bankruptcy Code does not provide married gay couples the same safe harbor exemptions and protection of family assets.
The Bankruptcy Code is complex and constantly changing, and filing for bankruptcy can be a time-consuming and confusing undertaking. It is even more important for gays and lesbians to choose a bankruptcy attorney familiar with the unique issues facing GLBT bankruptcy filers.
Homeowners facing foreclosure often file for Chapter 13 bankruptcy, which allows them to repay any late mortgage payments over three to five years. Married straight couples who acquire property together can own the property as tenants-by-the-entirety. With this form of ownership, each spouse owns 100 percent of the property and the right to possess the entire premises, subject to the parallel right of the other spouse. Tenancy-by-the-entirety is a form of ownership available to same-sex couples in the District of Columbia, but not in either Maryland or Virginia. In the District of Columbia, same-sex couples have an unlimited exemption in bankruptcy for the entire home.
By contrast, GLBT couples in Maryland or Virginia who wish to jointly own property must instead own either as joint tenants or tenants in common. Neither of these forms of ownership provides the same protections against creditors and different rules apply in bankruptcy. For instance, if a creditor obtains a judgment against a joint-owner or co-owner, the creditor can ask a court to “partition” the property interests of the owners. If the court allows the partition, the creditor can force the sale of the debtor’s interest, leaving the remaining partner with a stranger as a co-owner. Moreover, if only one homeowner/ spouse files bankruptcy and the property is held in both names, then the property is fully protected. If both file bankruptcy, however, the property is not protected and may be liquidated to pay back creditors. By contrast, property held by straight tenants-by-the-entirety is protected from all debts except IRS tax debt.
Despite these differences, bankruptcy is an excellent option for gays and lesbians who have become financially overextended. Bankruptcy is a very personal matter, however, and GLBT debtors should make sure that they have a good working relationship with their attorney and feel comfortable talking to him or her. A high comfort level is extremely important since your lawyer will be defending you and your rights in court.
Comments to bvlee@lee-legal.com or visit http://www.lee-legal.com/ for more information.
I woke up a little easier this morning and reported to duty as scheduled at the registration table. It was already somewhat hectic from looking at the expressions on some of the volunteers faces, it seemed to flow a bit easier the second day. Once my shift was over, Butch Burlesque workshop was the next stop. This was taught by Papa Dino. We had a fun time and the audience had many questions for her. Although this workshop was late, so I ended up missing Ivan Coyotes workshop, I had a good time.
Lunch was at this delicious buffet about three blocks from the hotel. Fortuna Buffet had some of the freshest food I have ever had from an Asian buffet.
After lunch, I went to the Flirt Like You Mean It workshop presented by Q. It was interesting. We discussed the different ways to flirt and how to recognize when someone is flirting with you. I am SO very oblivious as to when someone is flirting with me. Unless someone straight up says, “I like you.”, then it’s up and over my head, lol. So I got some good pointers out the workshop.
That was the end of my day at the hotel. We left and went back to the apartment to start getting ready for ButchNATION. I was volunteering for that as well. NOW…I was assigned to be a stage hand. In the world of burlesque art, a stage hand is a ‘pick-up artist’ or ’stage maid’ or ’stage kitten’ or ’stage vixen/stud’. They are as part of the show as the performers. I chose to be a stage maid, complete with ruffle butts .
How can I describe this show? A-M-A-Z-I-N-G! More than amazing, spectacular is more like it. The show opened with Pippa Flemming and O-M-G! She was mind blowing. Her piece with a spoken word piece that was about history and culture and pain and survival. SIGH. It took my breath away. Then everything else just kept getting better and better. The butch anthem was spectacular. Illicit Life Ent. just blew me away. Momma’s Boyz were DAMN good. And Ivan. Oh. My. Goodness. Ivan E. Coyote. Can you say-heartfelt, passionate, moving, emotional? I cannot believe the way Ivan spoke and the words were so powerful. SIGH! Fairy Butch was a fabulous emcee that kept the crowd engaged and was witty. I could go on, but I think I’ll start to ramble if I do . Just know, if you missed it, you missed a DAMN good show.
After that, I was frickin’ pooped and headed back to the apartment. Everyone else either went to the after party, went to bed alone, or went to bed with someone they met .
Well over the past few weeks, I’ve really started to question how Jesus would have addressed homosexuality. It brought me to do a lot of research, and it ended up with me altering my views on homosexual marriage. I’ve come to the conclusion that Jesus would not care whether someone was homosexual or not. He just wouldn’t care.
One of the things this website stressed was the story of Zacchaeus. Jesus didn’t say anything to Zacchaeus about his career choice, He just loved him. I really think that’s what God is calling us to do. Not deny homosexuals, but to push past their choices, and head for the person inside. Now this doesn’t mean that I believe homosexuality isn’t a sin, that it still is. I’m just saying Jesus had something else in mind. There’s more to the issue than arguing whether something is right or wrong.
Another thing I found elsewhere was the verse Hosea 6:6: For I desire mercy, not sacrifice, and acknowledgment of God rather than burnt offerings.
The Israelites were offering their sacrifices to God, not because it pleased Him, but because it was the law. This actually made God angry. Isn’t it the same thing when we deny homosexual marriage?
I had to write a paper for my Teen Leadership class whether I would allow homosexual marriage or not, and why. This really fortified my new view. I will post it so you can read through it (it’s only two pages) within the next day or two.
Until then, I recommend you take a quick glance at what this website has to say on the issue: What Would Jesus Say? I found it very nice whilst writing my paper.
Galatians 5:25-26 ~ Since we live by the Spirit, let us keep in step with the Spirit. Let us not become conceited, provoking and envying each other.
***Below is a letter to my aunt. She is a woman who’s family is living proof of the Gospel. This is part of the process of “coming out”. Not as gay or lesbian necessarily (because they already knew that) but of coming clean to who I have been and who I wish to become for Him. My testimony is coming but for now..here is a glimpse into my process.***
I lay me down at your feet my Master, find me here with the grace to know
That I am raised up in the perfect love of God
The moment I believe.. Watermark
Hey Titi!!! Good to see that the technological revolution has not passed you by at least! Right now things are ok here. At least as well as can be expected. I have found myself at a rather serious crossroads in my life…one that I never imagined possible. I guess I have just been running so long, I never thought anything would or could catch up with me. Now I have found everything closing in at once. I was released from the hospital a month or so back and while I was there, several things were addressed including my diabetes and mental health issues and addiction and recovery. It seems that I find myself in a very similar predicament that both of my parents once found themselves in and I am doing everything in my power try to stop the cycle. I am speaking of the cycle far beyond habitual conditioning or chemical dependency… This is the cycle of seeking the world. I feel like both of my parents were and are in some ways so blinded by this “reality” that they were unable to understand who they were and are in Christ and what that really means. I have barely just begin to see glimpses of that myself…and although those images are vague and clouded….. I DO see them..and so now I am here. In this space of trying to love myself in the way that He loves me. Trying to accept myself in all ways, knowing that it is not a destination but a journey through grace..Continuing and progressive. I left the hospital with a sense of a renewal but no plan on how to begin to rebuild my life into something completely different than it had been before..and something I have never really seen with my own eyes before. I want a life that honors God. I want a life that brings me peace in Him. I know where my heart is but I have never had the real courage to speak it. I have been afraid of friends and family (and the world in general) for far too long.. And I think I am ready to live honestly.. And I guess that kinda explains this email. I know it may be a bit forward, and perhaps a level of openness that you may have not encountered with me before, but I can not live in the dark any longer. I have nothing but the fondest memories of you and and my uncle and your family. I always saw you as a mother figure for many reasons. You were always easy and trustful and you were patient and funny and you ALWAYS made me feel safe. You had this way of taking things, which to me seemed so large, and breaking them down into manageable pieces with a lightness to it all. These are the things I think of when I think of you. I was never afraid of being honest with you as child and so, it is with that heart I speak to you now. I am struggling spiritually and physically. I feel like I have finally woken up. I always knew that there was a world that lived differently… That thought differently and existed in a state where God was their life and rock..I knew it was there..But I feel that I can finally see it..But that’s not enough. I want to touch it, and let the love and the light consume me. I would love nothing more than to spend a weekend with you guys and experience one of your services. I think it prove beneficial in many ways, but I guess I just needed to honest with you as to where I am in life at the moment. Please let me know which weekend would be good for you. Tell Grandma that I say hi and that I love her..Again, I am sorry if this email takes you off guard in anyway. Please pray for me as He work His way out. I love you guys.
Unnamed Congresswoman: (Though not identified as such during the deposition, Edmonds has since confirmed her to be a Democrat) “[T]his Congresswoman’s married with children, grown children, but she is bisexual. … So they have sent Turkish female agents, and that Turkish female agents work for Turkish government, and have sexual relationship with this Congresswoman in her townhouse … and the entire episodes of their sexual conduct was being filmed because the entire house, this Congressional woman’s house was bugged. … to be used for certain things that they wanted to request … I don’t know if she did anything illegal afterwards. … the Turkish entities, wanted both congressional related favoritism from her, but also her husband was in a high position in the area in the state she was elected from, and these Turkish entities ran certain illegal operations, and they wanted her husband’s help. But I don’t know if she provided them with those.”
