As I mentioned in my last post, I’ve recently started talking to a man. It’s nothing serious, and we haven’t gotten that physical. (I’ve discovered I’m a lot less enthusiastic about penises than I once was–they’re actually pretty icky. But he is a good kisser with nice hands.) But it is real and there it is. I told him that I mostly date women–and he guessed that I mostly date black women. He told me he was honored that I was attracted to him, but really I felt like I had no choice. There was one moment, though, last time I saw him, when I think he had second thoughts about seeing a lesbian.
Me: “I hope it doesn’t snow on Sunday.”
Him: “Why, what’s happening Sunday?”
Me: “I have to do some work on my car: I’ve got some rust on the door, and I have to sand it down, fill it with with bondo and paint it with primer.”
His eyes got big: “So you you like to work with your hands?” He squeaked out. I could see the wheels turn in his head, as he realized that he might not be dating a Lesbian, but a bona fide Dyke, like any moment I might don a polo shirt and stud stagger (okay I could, but he doesn’t need to know that).
“Not really” I played it off, “I just can’t afford to take it to a shop.” Which was true about the money, but not true about the liking part.
I love working with my hands. I love using power tools and making things. It seems stupid that such things are gendered, though. Sure I like working on cars and building things, but I also like knitting and jewelry making and cooking.
The last woman I saw was a stone stud, so I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised when she almost broke it off with me after I told her how much I enjoyed a construction project I did back in the day–but hey, since she worked in construction, I thought she might like it that I shared some of her interests! Eh, not so much. That’s when she started calling me a butch-femme and lamenting my lack of nail polish.
Between the people I’ve been dating, and the fact that my career has taken an unexpected and unwelcome turn from Video/AV/IT to administrative work, I feel like the world wants me to be femme.
I’m just not ready to fit in that small box yet.