Chapstick Chapstick

Monday, June 4, 2018

A Hard Day to Be Gay

Today has been an extra hard day to be gay. I’m sure other queer folks can relate. First, I went into work to hear two other queer people in the elevator talking about the Supreme Court decision. I whipped out my phone to read the article. The Supreme Court sided with the Colorado baker—you know, the one who refused to make a wedding cake for a gay couple.   

Within 5 minutes of hearing the Supreme Court news, I walked into a difficult conversation—prompted by someone else—about another person making crude remarks about my sexuality. Don’t get me wrong, I felt supported by the person who stood up for me, but it was a hard discussion that I didn’t want to have. I’d love to just be left alone.  

I got home and poured myself a drink. I started sipping my 3:00pm wine (don’t judge!) when my best friend (also gay) messaged me about the Supreme Court case. We went back and forth about how scary this decision is for both of us. We’re talking about bakeries now, but what about restaurants? Hotels? Law offices? Housing complexes? Hospitals? Freedom of religion shouldn't allow for blatant discrimination, right?   

While I’m angry and heartbroken by the events of the day, I’m even more upset at myself for my responses to them. I responded to the discrimination against me with, “Well, I’ve dealt with worse. I’ll just stay away from this person. Can we not talk about it again? I don’t want to label myself as a problem.” When my best friend and I were talking about the implications of the Supreme Court decision, I thought to myself, “If this were to affect housing, I should be able to look straight, plus I’m single, so I could weasel my way through housing as a “straight woman” if need be.” I’m embarrassed and ashamed to share these responses with all of you. I hate myself for saying and thinking them. But I also hate that I live in a country where I’ve been conditioned to think this way. 

It’s been such a hard day to be gay. To those of you who had similar days, I feel your pain. I’m sorry. I’m here for you. You are my family.

They won’t serve me cake, but I will.

Too soon? Yeah, definitely.  

Saturday, May 19, 2018

Tornado Women

I’m interested in a certain type of woman: older, unavailable, and MESSY. When I say messy, I mean her life is in shambles.

Here’s my dating checklist:

Are you unavailable for any of the following reasons?
a)    You’re way too old for me
b)    You’re in love with someone else
c)     You JUST had a turbulent breakup
d)    You don’t “do” relationships
e)    You’re married or in a committed relationship
g)    You say you’re “straight” *wink wink, nudge nudge*
h)    You’re actually 100% straight

If you answered yes to at least three of these, you’re my type!

My taste in women is so much worse than it was for men. Honestly, I dated some pretty great guys. Okay, I went on dates with a billion terrible guys, but all of my serious heterosexual relationships were with truly fantastic men. This is not true of the women I’ve loved/dated. Most (though not all!) the women I’ve dated and/or wanted to date were… well…

I think the reason for my different taste in men versus women has to do with rationality (or lack thereof). When I dated men, I was very calculated about whom to date. I found men who were kind, smart, interesting, and generally lovely people. With women, my rationality is out the window. I find myself enthralled with women who I know are bad news, and when my brain says, “Woah, she’s a total mess,” my heart says:

I've avoided two such women in the few monthsbooyah! Fingers crossed I'll stay strong. ;)

Monday, May 7, 2018

Pride Prowlin'

On Saturday I went to a local Pride parade with a group of my fabulous friends.

*Me dancing around with my Pride flag in front of a bubble machine*

I have two STELLAR stories from this Pride day. First, I was walking around with my pals and I was complaining to my queer male friend about how I’d watched him get hit on exactly 1.56 billion times during the parade. “Lesbians just don’t work like gay men! It’s not faaaaaiiiir,” I lamented. A beautiful woman in front of our group turned around when she heard me whining and said, “Girl, you are gorgeous. You hear me? Gorgeous!” My reaction:

My second story is even better! My friends had their eyes peeled for cute masculine-of-center women for me. After no luck during the parade or festivities, we decided to go into town to get lunch. I’ve been crushing on this waitress at a local restaurant for quite some time. We went to her restaurant (per my request) hoping to scope out this woman whom I’ve been playfully calling my future wife. This may sound creepy, buuut—actually, super creepy is completely accurate.

What are the chances that she was working AND we got seated in her section?! I know. The lesbian goddesses were on my side.

My friends were thrilled about the opportunity to woo her while trolling me. They made it their mission to figure out if she was single. Among the questions they asked her:

1. What’s your name?
2. Did you go to Pride today?
3. If you hadn’t had to work today would you have gone to Pride? (Translation: You’re a lesbian, right?)
4. Oh, you went last year, huh? Did you have fun?
5. Are you going to go to any of the parties after work tonight?
6. If we go out tonight, are we going to see you?

She was an amazing sport. She chatted and joked with our table while oozing butch charm. I’d like to say my flirting game was on point, but I barely said two words to her. My friends really carried the interaction—thanks, pals.

My friends decided I needed to ask her out. I agreed to leave my number for her. On a small strip of paper, I wrote:

If you’d like to grab a drink after work, let me know.
-My name

During the conversation, she told us her drink was some tequila cocktail. One of my friends pulled out a tequila shooter and said, “Leave this on the note. It’ll be soooo cute.” <— lol that we had tequila shooters on hand. Some morning/day drinking *might* have been happening.

When we were ready to leave, I waited for her to walk far from our table, I put the shooter on the note where I was sitting, then RAN THE FUCK OUT OF THERE!

She didn’t text me that night, which was a bummer. I tried not to feel too self-conscious about it—unsuccessfully. 


She said: “Thanks for the nip yesterday! It made the 13 hours of work a little more bearable. Rain check on a drink on a night when I’m off before 1am?”

We haven’t established when this drink is happening yet, but I’m walking on sunshine that she texted me. I figured she was WAY out of my league (she’s a butch goddess), so I’m tickled pink that she responded and wants to take me up on the drink.

Once we’ve UHauled and adopted a dog together, I’ll tell her that we went to lunch that day with the specific hope to scope her out. I’m sure she’s think it’s “adorable” and “charming” rather than “creepy” or “stalker-ish.”

I’d say I had a successful Pride.