There is a girl in my life. The kinda girl I’ve dreamed of. Gorgeous. Caring. Creative. Considerate. I could keep going forever.
Let’s call her Tea. That’s how I describe the color of her eyes…
We spend a lot of time together. Days at a time. When we aren’t together, I miss her. We spend hours on the phone as a substitute.
When we’re together, we have the most random conversations. Anything could come up. We get each other. The weird stuff. The nerdy stuff. The silly stuff. The sad stuff. All of it.
And when we’re not talking, the silence isn’t awkward. I actually find it inspiring. Being in her presence stimulates me creatively in a way that I’ve never experienced. Maybe that’s why I love being around her.
But this girl will never be my girlfriend. Why?
We are almost the exact same person minus the fact that she shops in the men’s department…And I don’t want to be in a relationship with myself.
Her appearance suggested to me that she might be aggressive and dominant. No, it’s not fair to judge people off their looks, but I slip up sometimes. When I realized that she was very comfortable laying on her back and letting me do the work(all of the time), I knew that we couldn’t be together.
That’s sounds bad, right? I mean, I’m not passive by any stretch of the imagination, but the woman that I’m with needs to make sure she’s giving back the good loving I’m giving her. She can’t roll over after getting head and fall asleep. She can’t be afraid to tell me how she wants it.
If I wanted to do all the work in the bedroom, I’d be a stud. And that is a conversion that will never, EVER, happen.
Is it wrong to judge the success of a relationship on sex?
I don’t think so.
Monday, June 21
I rolled over at 4:48am. I checked the time on my phone. Her text message said: Got n 2 an accident in the hospital right now. Car fucked and my head bleeding.
4:49am- I called her. Her speech was slurred. Had she been drinking? Yes, she has. Her car is through a fence, but there wasn’t another car involved. And she’s talking and texting. But her head is bloody. Her hand is full of blood. How the fuck did that happen. Her mom didn’t answer the phone when she called. Her brother was on his way. “I’m such a loser.” Thank God, she’s alive.
4:57am- “Are you her brother?” I hear a male voice in the background. She says, “My brother is here. I’ll try to update you later.” I can feel my head throbbing.
5:03am- “Are you ok?” My brother answers the phone. She calms me down. She asks me questions I don’t know the answer to. I feel like crying.
5:47am- I say a prayer and lay down to sleep.
10:06am- I wake to the sound of my phone ringing. It’s her. “My brother says bad things keep happening to me because I’m gay.”
“It would be easier if I was dead.”
“I’m such a fuck up.”
She puts me on hold and doesn’t come back.
12:48pm- 
sister, her blog
A girl my brother liked had a disturbing blog posted Saturday morning. It read like someone found her with a suicide note and the note was posted on the blog. She called her cell and it went straight to voicemail. The phone at the place she shares with her brother just rings. I read the blog and a few of her posts talk about her hearing voices.
Today, there are more posts… “The hospital called and told us to come pay our respects.”
Is this for real?
1:41pm- My brother is sobbing and sniffling. We talk it out. We both decide we need rest.
Today, both women that filled my Monday with thoughts of death are fine. The friend in the accident pulled herself away from dark thoughts and went toward the bright light at the end of the tunnel. And the other situation, well… It was a very cruel hoax by a very sick individual.
Suicide in the LGBTQ community is not a laughing manner. It’s not something to be taken lightly. It is the easy way out of any situation. It’s easy for the victim, but leaves family and friends to deal with an even more difficult event. It seems that as members of a so called “alternative” community, we build bonds with people that are stronger than sharing DNA, so while someone that may think suicide is the answer because they feel alone, it isn’t. There is always someone in their corner.
LGBTQ youth are four times as likely to attempt suicide as their heterosexual peers.
For every completed suicide by a young person, it is estimated that 100 to 200 attempts are made.
Thinking of suicide? Please call:
The Trevor Project is the leading national organization focused on crisis and suicide prevention efforts among lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender and questioning (LGBTQ) youth.
The Trevor Project operates the only accredited, nationwide, around-the-clock crisis and suicide prevention helpline for LGBTQ youth. If you or a friend are feeling lost or alone, call The Trevor Helpline. There is hope, there is help.
I got a message on an old IM account from my first girlfriend asking me to email her. My first thought was, what does she want? My first thought was fuck her, but I emailed her anyway.
An email turned into, “Can we talk?” I sent her my phone number. She text me. I had to laugh at her text messages because she’s not known for being a very good writer. Her texts were worded so formally, as if she was trying to her best to show me that had some education behind her or something. I shook my head at the text, immediately recognizing that nothing much had changed with her. She had always been a person that was constantly out to impress other people by fronting instead of just being herself.
She asked to see me after she got back from being out of town on business. I said sure. I don’t really expect to see her, so it seems safe to agree. Then she tried to force herself on me this weekend. She asked twice after my original no. She says all she wants from me is friendship, but I don’t think friends are this pushy.
I told her a long time ago that she and I had absolutely nothing in common. I told her that we never should have been together. I told her we had no basis for a friendship. I feel like all of this is still true, but I can’t help but to wonder why she came back.
I have a friend that pokes fun at me and teases me much like an old lover. I’ll tell her how great she is. She’ll tell me how sexy I am. Cuddling with her is not an option, but a must. Physical affection is easy. And we often find ourselves discussing sex. Sex with each other, to be more specific, but we haven’t done it. She and I slip easily between exchanging verbal innuendo and discussing our latest heartbreaks. We do that because we’re friends, despite the sexual undertone our conversations might take.
I have another friend. We’ve already crossed the line sexually. We’ve already cuddled, kissed, humped…All that…But that fact doesn’t hinder our ability to be friends. We can sit and talk. Minus the TV. Minus music. Free of any distraction. When she’s having a bad day, she calls me. Not because of any romantic feeling, but because she knows I understand…Because we’re friends.
I think a lot of what makes a friendship romantic is the emotional support that we get from those we have those types of friendships with. It’s often the same type of support you’d expect from a lover because it’s more intimate than what you’d get from a close friend. If I didn’t get this emotional support, these girls wouldn’t be friends. I would classify them as a crush & a FB.
The problem with both of these friendships is what will happen should either of us get in relationships. It would no longer be labeled romantic, but inappropriate. Maybe even unfair. At least to the girlfriend. When you have people that are already used to relying on someone for intimate emotional support, it makes it that much more difficult to form bonds with new people. How close can you be to a girlfriend when you’re getting everything you need from a friend that you don’t have to commit to?
The biggest mistake a new lesbian can make is to apply heterosexual rules to her homosexual relationship.
Admittedly, I gave my first girlfriend hell about having mostly femme friends. I felt like her friendships with them were inappropriate just for the fact that these were women she could possibly be attracted to. My preference was for her to hang around with other girls that looked like her. More masculine women, soft studs like how she identified herself.
As I experienced more of the lesbian community, I realized that it wasn’t so unusual for a masculine woman to befriend mostly feminine women. For some reason, it often seemed as though the dynamic between masculine women seemed a little off, for some reason they saw themselves as competition rather than someone they could realistically form bonds with.
Anyway, I digress…
Across the ranges of sexuality, women seem to form stronger bonds with other women. Historically, those relationships are documented as “romantic friendships.”
Romantic friendships are often defined as “a very close but non-sexual relationship between friends, often involving a degree of physical closeness beyond that which is common in modern Western societies, for example holding hands, cuddling, and sharing a bed.”
Back in those days, in the Victorian Era, those relationships weren’t frowned upon. It was normal. Even if the men though the women may have been doing something sexual in nature, it was commonly thought that women were incapable of sexual pleasure, so their male counterparts didn’t frown upon those relationships.
Let’s fast forward to present day…
I have a friend that has spent the night next to me, holding my hand. The same friend used to comment on my breasts, usually when I’d be braless and take every opportunity to look down my shirt. We grind on each other at the club, but we’ve never done anything remotely sexual.
I have another friend that is the person everyone calls for any and everything. She is the person you call if you need help moving. She’s the person you call if you need to borrow a couple of dollars. She’s everybody’s go to person. She’s straight and her straight married friends come to her before they go to their husbands. As a result most of her friend’s husbands don’t like her.
One of my exes was very much like the friend I just mentioned. Her friends would call her all hours of the morning of the night, wake her (and me) up out of our sleep to ask her opinion about something as small as a hairstyle. It used to frustrate me because I would always wonder why these girls couldn’t have a thought without my girl’s approval. This same girlfriend admitted later that many of her friend’s had crushes on her.
Do you have romantic friendships? Do you find that those type of friendship interfere with your romantic relationships? Or are these friendships just a front for romantic intentions?
Original Post Date: June 15, 2009
When I started really socializing in the lesbian community, it was with my first girlfriend and other couples. All of the couples look the same. Stud and femme. There was no variation of this couple. There was one person that was obviously feminine and the other was very obviously masculine.
When that relationship ended, I realized there were so many different types of lesbian relationships. I claimed the label femme back in those days, and I was always said I would never date another femme. I believe that relationship would be filled with physical jealousy, too much estrogen, and constant neediness. Boy, was my mind screwed up!
The more I socialized in the community, the more I learned. I dated femmes and realized I was wrong. In every relationships there will be someone that is more dominant, more nurturing, more compromising. It’s that kind of balance that makes relationships work.
Which one of you is the man? A question I heard a lot when I would introduce my femme girlfriend.
It is popular to believe that gay/lesbian relationships mirror straight relationships- there has to be a man and a woman. There has to be someone making the money and someone raising the kids. Someone wearing the boxers and someone wearing the thong. Someone pitching and another catching. Riiight?!
Femme/femme relationships aren’t taken seriously. I’ve had plenty of studs ask what it is that we do in the bedroom. As if lesbian sex can’t be had without a masculine participant. Sound familiar? It’s the same kind of attitude men have when they see lesbians together.
Stud/stud relationships are treated with disgust. I’ve heard studs call it gay. No one wants to picture what they are doing in the bedroom (except me). Even studs that seek these type of relationships feel uncomfortable with it.
One thing I would always notice when I’m out partying with the white lesbians is that they date who they want. It doesn’t matter what the girl looks like, what her percieved role maybe. If they feel attraction, they act on it. And no one seems to care. Why is it such an issue in the black community? Is this internal homophobia?
Original Post Date: April 22, 2009
Everyone isn’t meant to be a parent. Its sad, but its true. Unfortunately, it seems that the people that make babies the easiest are the ones that have the least amount of mothering instinct.
When I was growing up, I remember believing/hoping/praying that my aunt was really my mother. I made up this scenario that my family was trying to protect my aunt’s virtue because she was so young, so they put me off on my mom because she was older. I felt this way because my aunt was always there. My mom wasn’t. I understand now that she wasn’t because I didn’t allow her to be, but that’s not the point of this post…
My aunt has a motherly nature. She’s loving & affectionate. She draws people in with her warmth. She made decisions to better her children’s future over & over again, often at he expense of her own. She gave up her life for them. And that’s how I think it should be.
When I started approaching my thirties, people would ask why I didn’t have children. I would give the standard answers about not having a partner or not being stable enough, but in reality, I knew that I didn’t have the right mindset. I wasn’t ready to have an innocent being relying on me for everything. I wasn’t ready to be responsible for the success or life another being. I wasn’t ready to be needed like that…
Where is this coming from? I have a friend who’s mother repeatedly sets her up for failure. She struggles with paying her bills yet her mom will come along and ask her to borrow money. She won’t pay it back on time. And when she finally gets around to making an effort at paying her back, she’ll write her a bad check. Who does that?
I’ve told her repeatedly that mothers are supposed to want their children to succeed. They are supposed to be the one doing without, not he other way around. It burns me up that grown people still behave this way. Its bullshit…
But like I said at the beginning, everyone isn’t meant to be a parent. Wouldn’t be great if we could flag those people and keep them from reproducing? Just a thought…
If I’m being honest with myself, I’ll have to admit that I’m not over her. I’ve picked up the phone over a dozen times in the last week to tell her that I love her. Sometimes I’ve gone as far as actually dialing her number. I never get her on the phone. I don’t know if that’s a blessing or a disguise, but I miss her terribly.
People say that you don’t miss a good thing until its gone. I think you miss anything that has been a regular part of your life whether its good or bad. It’s their presence that you miss, even if their presence caused you heartache, you still miss them.
I miss her. I still love her. It’s true. But I know that I have to move on. What-could’ve-beens aren’t cuddling with me at night. They don’t kiss. They don’t comfort. Though they do make me smile.
I don’t know what it is that makes us hold on. Perhaps its that level of comfort, like an old pair of jeans. They are comfortable. They are broken in. The conform to your body in a non-restrictive way…So what if the zipper doesn’t work and there is a big rip right across your ass cheeks…?
It’s time to move on
I might need to put a disclaimer somewhere advising people that should they interact with me, they could end up as material for this blog. A simple consequence of interacting with a writer.
I posted one of my short stories on DL. I got a rather excited response from one girl. I left my thank you in her inbox. She replied back, telling me how she had gotten wet! Grrreat! She goes on to tell me that she “writes professionally” and I should check out some of her work posted on her blog. I love running into other creative writers, so I click the link back to her page.
sigh
I am all about people having their own writing style. However, I do believe that if your writing style makes it more difficult for people to comprehend your point, then you’ve wasted your time. EBadu: What good do your words do if people don’t understand you.
I believe there was a good story in there. I can’t say I read all of it. I was too distracted by repetitive ellipses. An example:
Her story…read something…like this…Commas were rare…No periods…Just dot…dot…dot…Gimme…uh…break…!
See how distracting that is?!
I am by no means suggesting that I should be/could be some kind of English professor, but I do feel that if you believe that your words are important enough to share with the world, you should make sure you’re sharing a superior product. Present an entire concept, a complete thought in a clear manner. Not in a series of . . .
I’ve been in Atlanta now for a week and a half. I’m getting acclimated to hearing the pulse of the city again. It’s beating in my ear urging me forward, motivating me.
That’s not the only thing that is motivating me. The friend I’m staying with is the same friend from my infamous toilet tissue posts ( 1, 2, 3, 4 ). Remember a 4 pack of toilet tissue gone in 5 days because she was mummifying her pads? Yeah, well, history repeats itself because when I got there, I found 2 toilet tissue free bathrooms. Seriously. How can women live without toilet tissue? I went and bought a four pack the day I arrived and put a roll in the bathroom I’ll be using the most. I hid the rest. And today the other bathroom is still without tissue. I don’t understand how there are bags upon bags of hair, dozens of bottles of hair glue and no toilet tissue? Is it okay to drip dry as long as our hair looks good?
My mermaid calls me a nester. I like having a home. At the very least my own space that contains my own shit, my own smell, my own door to shout out the world. There is a certain peace that comes to you late at night when you sleep in a bed that curves to your own body and the pillow is dented from your head.
I want a nest…But first I need a job.
I often find myself having conversations with some really random people. I suppose it shouldn’t surprise me that the conversations are often random as well…
I was chatting with this girl from downelink. She didn’t have many pics up. She said that was because she didn’t want to be judged by her pictures. She said that if the pictures she had up weren’t enough to make people want to talk to her then she didn’t need to speak to them anyway. Superficial she called them. What a great way of thinking!
After more chatting, she told me about her next girlfriend. She had to be the baddest bitch. Her body, her face, everything had to be on point. She was just keeping it real. Her theory was that the way lesbians have sex, the girl must have the entire package. Face to toes, she must be the shit.
She went on to tell me about how her exes post-pregnancy stomach looked like it had been slashed by Freddy Krueger. How another ex drooled every time she saw a Proactiv commercial…
I laughed at these things that were said, her delivery was so comical, I chose not to debate with her. Could she really not know that she was contradicting herself?
I’ve heard a million times that you attract what you are. If she is really this superficial, won’t she attract someone that is just as superficial? That could be a problem for someone that admittedly has a proportionately small head and raccoon ringed eyes.
Just a thought.
Change is in the air. It’s surrounding me like my favorite soft blanket, offering me comfort & encouragement.
Some of you have contacted me outside of my blog to see how I was. I suppose the tone of my most recent posts might be the reason.
You see, I’m single. Again. Sigh.
Going into details seem a bit unnecessary at this point. Maybe another day, another time, I’ll revisit our story.
When I came back to SC about a year and a half ago, I felt like I was supposed to be here. Now, I feel like this city is giving me the boot. It’s kicking me out. And I am gladly leaving.
I’m headed back to Atlanta.
There is something about being around your family that reminds you of who you really are. Maybe it’s because your family has such high expectations. I don’t know. I do know that the person they see me as got lost in the hustle and bustle of the city. A lot of who makes me the unique individual that I am, got lost.
I’m taking the new/old me back to Atlanta to see how she does there. Hopefully avoiding the dreaded lesbian circle I left behind. Let’s see how she fares.
