Lesbian Roles Be Damned

I know role-playing can be fun with the right woman on the right day. At least, that’s what I’ve been told. My problem is that I struggle with first impressions and defy typical roles myself. I look like the “girl next door,” or so I’ve been told. I’m okay with that until it gets in my way, pushing me in a corner by myself, unmatched and unloved.

Like most people, I would prefer a more interesting description. If people described me as sexy or edgy, I would definitely smile about that. Depending on what I wear and who I am with, those descriptions can be true. I have references. My personality is definitely more edgy than my looks. I have no tattoos, piercings or other markings that distinguish me from other people. Too often I am approached by total strangers who tell me I look like their sister, cousin, old classmate. I’m not sure what that means exactly, but it is weird.

While I never have trouble getting dates, I must admit to feeling some angst over the entire process. I actually went to a little party last weekend and only stayed an hour. I felt nervous and very quiet. I do much better one on one, unless I’m drinking. After a few drinks, I am much more talkative. But then I have to stress over getting UBER to pick me up and leaving my car. That is way too complicated. Besides, I want to meet people as myself, not the “buzzed” version of me that is much more dynamic, but much less genuine. That’s a subject for another post.

I guess the whole butch/femme thing, which is supposedly yesteryear, seems all too prevalent to me. I am not attracted to extremes. Super prissy or masculine women do nothing for me. I’m not trying to step on toes. I guess my reason for writing about this subject is because I rarely meet women who seem down to earth and middle of the road. Maybe I am looking in the wrong places.

With that said, I have hope and continue to put myself out there. At some point, I will jump on a dating site, reluctantly….The Girl Next Door seeks The Girl Next Door. Any takers? I know. I need to work on that some.

Carpe your fears for they will set you free! (or so I hear)

Wordy Grl

Permission to Wallow in Self-Indulgence Granted

Self-indulgence is really all we have that is all our own. The term has gotten a bad rap, compelling us to almost always apologize for it, or worse; feel guilty about it. This blog represents my favorite compulsion. If you don’t like it, don’t read it. That’s what I love about writing. Only the followers who feel a connection will continue reading, right? How perfect is that arrangement. As dynamics in relationships are evaluated, it’s hard to find a better set-up.

Little girls keep diaries with tiny metal keys to keep their siblings from reading their most private thoughts about their hopes and dreams. Big girls create blog entries late at night when they finally settle down enough from the day to be honest with themselves. I am trying to break my “people pleaser” tendencies that interfere with my ability to truly be honest about who I am underneath my need to be liked and accepted. Finally, I want to live an authentic life that makes sense to me, even if others don’t agree or approve.

I am in search of my tribe. Writers and people who like to connect on a deeper level, who like to study life; those are the human beings I enjoy being around. Philosophy majors are my favorite. Who cares how marketable their skills are? Not me. People who collect stuff as a way to fill up their time bore me to tears. Capitalism is exploitive at its core and needs to be reconsidered if we ever want to live in harmony instead of as a world divided.

As a newly single lesbian, I am having some exciting thoughts about how I want to live. I think I need two homes, or at least a main home and a getaway to escape the extreme weather that I hate. While I love Atlanta in the spring and fall, I hate it in the winter and summer. I love the beach during off seasons, when all the tourists all long gone and you can walk the beach in relative peace accompanied by the seagulls and the sound of the waves greeting you at the shore.

Somebody might threaten to take away my lesbian card over this next proclamation, but hey, that’s okay. I never want more than two pets ever again. After living in a zoo for 7 years, I truly appreciate the limits of my patience relative to dog walking, kitty litter and all things related to the loud noise of multiple dogs barking at once. I love animals, but I believe being outnumbered by more than one is asking for more aggravation than I am willing to manage.

For the first time in my life, I am very open to having a deep relationship with a woman without living with her. That does not mean that I would never consider cohabitation with a woman I adore, but if she is a slob, has a bunch of pets or is a control freak, I don’t want to live with her. Who could blame me?

I have heard you should never say never, but what can I say, I’m a rebel at heart. l will never move in with anyone until I have known them a full year, have taken a long vacation with them and have met their relatives. We also must have at least three good fights, to see how well we handle disagreements. Some lesbians don’t fight fair. I will not ever again do mean. Why should I? Why does anybody?

I have given up on wanting or needing to please others. That does not mean that I will not serve others in the ways I can. I know how important it is to connect with people and to help out. As far as I can tell, being of service to others may be our single most important reason for being on the planet. But I will no longer try to change who I am at my core to be accepted by anyone else.

Until next time, embrace the life you want. Don’t settle for somebody else’s version of what your life should be. Be true to yourself. You are already good enough and deserve all good things.

Carpe Diem

Wordy Grl

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

When the Kissing Stops, “Check Please”

When in doubt, I write. It’s easier than talking and choking on my words. I can send this out to the universe and the right person will read it. Like a note cast out in a glass bottle into the cyber ocean filled with lost souls trying to reach out to one another, I can sleep tonight believing that somebody will find my message and I will no longer be alone with my thoughts, unheard and uncelebrated.

It’s a leap of faith, for sure. It is easier to share with total strangers than burden friends with my many words.  The word verbose comes to mind. But, I am not without hope now, which is an improvement over where I was mentally before the breakup.

I have been lonely for a long time now. I broke up with my girlfriend 2 months ago, but I had been lonely for years before the end. She stopped caring and then I stopped trying, so the breakup was simply a formality. The odd thing is I still miss her in some twisted, dysfunctional way.  As weird as that sounds, it’s true. Some of the rhythms we had as a couple were comforting. Now, I am making up new rituals and finding my own way, and it’s lonely, but it’s authentic.

The fight we had before we finally broke up, she told me she didn’t love me anymore. The next morning she begged me to stay. I could not run away fast enough. While she was at work, I packed up everything I could in my Toyota Celica and drove 500 miles to Atlanta, my hometown. She’s in Florida, a place I thought I would love after moving there only months earlier with her. It will be a long time before I go to Florida again.

In true lesbian fashion, there was drama at the end. It’s funny how relationships tend to both start and end with drama, or at least mine do. Inches from my face, she screamed….”Get out.” I had forgiven her so many other times when she screamed or yelled, insulting me or complaining about this or that, but I finally got to that point where I could no longer see any love in her eyes, or feel any warmth in her touch, and I knew there was no going back.

I deserve better. I told her several times that “I don’t do mean.” Apparently, she was not listening. A part of me believes that she didn’t believe she deserved me or anybody for that matter. There was a power struggle always. Friends thought we’d get back together, but I knew we never would. I could not remember the last time we had kissed, besides a lifeless peck not worthy of the beautiful sentiment expected in such a sweet gesture.

I love women. I keep trying. Evidently, I am not terribly good at relationships. I have many stories to tell and have been fortunate enough to love many wonderful lesbians. If you lined up all the woman I have loved, it would be hard to understand “my type.”

My lineup of lovers includes tall, short, white, black, younger, older, Christian, Pagan, Jewish, heavy and skinny women. About all they have in common is me. The funny thing is I loved them all with everything I had. Unforeseen things always happened and the love never seemed to be enough in the end.

I am not quite ready to hop on the dating sites. I started to, then I didn’t pay, so I am waiting for something. A sign maybe. For the first time in my life, I feel a bit frightened by the process. I am no longer the fearless, confident woman I was. Something has shifted. People who know me would not believe me if they heard me say that.

Everybody meets online these days. But, I guess I want something more romantic, an organic love affair borne of physical chemistry and a mental connection shared over time, instead of puked out on a dating site like a resume meant to attract attention. Granted, online dating offers expediency, but there is something to be said for seeing her across the room and finding a way to meet her, watching her until you finally have the chance to speak to her.

Until we meet again. Sweet dreams. If I’m lucky, I’ll see you there.

Carpe the wet kiss!

A Wordy Grl