If I was to write a blog with a less confrontational name, I would call it “The Reluctant Femme.”
I’ve never felt such pressure to be feminine since I’ve been actively engaging in the lesbian communities. I know I bring a lot of this on myself, since I seem to be attracted to bois, tombois, and–my favorite–studs. I’m attracted to women right up to the razors-edge of Trans. (I don’t think I’d want to date a woman who was actively trying to turn herself into a man. I support his right to do it, but I think that the chemical and physical alterations would turn me off.)
Of course, I’m also attracted to femmes. But the thing is, I can pull both dressed as a femme, and I can only pull femmes as a butch. (And I don’t think I would be attracted to the kind of butch who likes other butches.)
I’ve been having dramatic gender-identity swings: I feel like a femme to a butch and a butch to a femme. But I do have a preference for butch women, and they want femmes!
I keep being told I’m a femme, and I dress very femme when I go out to the club…but then the next day I wear my baggiest jeans, boots, a big T and chain. I’m a big woman with broad shoulders, and never learned the lady-like thing all that well, so trying to be femme can actually be harder than being butch…but I don’t yet know which side I’ll end up coming down on. If I come down…
After one of my “boi day’s” as I call them–which happen about once a week–I’m tired of the hostile looks from other butches (hilariously, the butch at my office practically hisses at me like a cat guarding her territory when I dress butch, but is totally friendly when I’m dressed femme) and some men–tired of, I don’t know–the type of energy I’m putting out…and I settle back into my normal girl jeans, blouse and necklace–my low-key femme thing.
I can’t help it if I like auto mechanics and knitting
Fixing computers and fixing dinner.
That I worked for years as an adult to teach myself how to apply make-up–only to have my date ask why I don’t wear any!
The closest thing I had to a successful relationship was a totally non-sexual arrangement I had with a male friend of mine: he cooked and cleaned and took care of my kids, and I went to school and worked, paid the bills and shopped.
Which makes me think I should cut my hair and find a nice femme to settle down with.
And then I see a sexy stud across the room, and just want to giggle and twirl my hair.