Sometimes–I Don’t Care if You’re Gay!

Robot with tool saying "Yup, he's gay!"

So most of the time, like Sasha, I enjoy playing “Spot The Lesbian.” Although the hardcore butches aren’t much challenge for this sport (for them the game is: how do I get this butch to notice me?), there’s plenty of-in-between women  (and men) for me to test my gaydar on.

I also like to see who makes me: there was the annoying hipster who somehow pegged me on the first day of my last job, outing me by informing me in lofty tones that I “could get married too, now.” (Remember, I live in Massachusetts, where that information would have been thrilling if it wasn’t, like, six years old.)

There was the grey-haired professorial femme who stared admiringly at me for an uncomfortably long period of time at the airport on one of my boi days (bois fly more comfortably) before sitting down next to a soul-mate-matching short-haired butch who I could only assume to be her partner.

Then there’s that thrill of spotting the face that sends female signals from a masculine-appearing body, not to mention the lesbian nod, the extra smile… Sometimes I feel like a member of an exclusive club. A pretty darn cool one at that.

On the other hand, sometimes I just don’t give a damn! Today was one of those days: I was at an extremely dull party full of aging computer programmers, trying to keep my head up despite a sinking depression over losing a friend via email, and an older butch gave me that extra, approving smile. All right, so she made me! Like that was really so friggin’ hard when I’m wearing a purple tank top, goddess pendant, have my hair up in a bandana–oh yeah, and a big hurking Labris tattooed to my arm!

I felt like our conversation should have gone: “You like eating pussy?”

“Me too.”

Big freaking whoop! Is an attraction to the same gender really something you can build a friendship on? Wait, don’t answer that…lol…I know, it’s a place to start, and a lot of lesbians are fucking awesome people, it’s just…I don’t know, it can feel like a superficial connection at times.

I really feel that way about gay men a lot of the time. So what that you’re gay and I know it? Or I’m gay and you know it? Big fucking deal!!

I often feel like gay men and I have the least in common. Typical conversation at my last job:

Me: “Yeah I’ve been really getting into cooking lately.”

Gay Man 1: “Oh really, who do you cook?”

Me: ”  ”

Gay Man 2: “Oh I just love Rachel Ray!”

On the other hand, at my latest job I like the gay guy (it’s mostly women) the most. Having him there has helped me be out at work, and the fact that he’s something of a femme without going into “who do you cook?” territory helps. It really felt good when his fiance greated me with, “Oh I’ve heard all about you–your’e family!”

So I guess that I do care if you’re gay. Unless, I’m, like, in a bad mood, find you unattractive or am thinking about something else. Then I could fucking care less.

How Many Gays Must God Create?

If only there were more Minnesotans (and humans) like this guy:

Gaydar Fail: Straight Butch Professionals

Mary Carillo--Butch & Possibly Straight

Mary Carillo--Butch & Probably Straight

So my Gaydar has failed me three times recently–okay, make that 2 1/2 times. The first time was the bright blue-eyed, polished butch who waits at my bus stop. I was sure, make that positive–that she was a lesbian. Well, I was sure until she slid the words “my husband” almost guiltily into a sentence with the fake offhand casualness usually reserved for queers mentioning their “partners.” Or was that my over-sensitive imagination? Did she guess that I thought she was gay, and felt that she had to come-out as straight? Does she know that she comes off as a total Dyke? Maybe she’s Bi and embarrassed that she landed in a Het relationship?

Again I got fooled at my new job. Part of why I felt comfortable coming out was that everything about one of the higher-ups screamed lesbian to me–from her boxy horn-rimmed glasses to her awkward gait and slightly masculine suits. But then today I noticed she was wearing heals! And she too dropped the “H” bomb.

The third woman I only slightly suspected of being gay. Mostly it was the rainbow earings.

What is it with these straight butch women in the workforce? They totally blow my gaydar!


How You Gonna No Homo That?

So I ain’t tryin’a hate on Nicki Minaj–I think she’s really talented. She outshines every other artist that she shares a track with and it’s f@cking unfair that there seems to be this unspoken rule that there can only be one top female artist at a time, so that everyone wants that artist to be all things to all people, but I gotta take issue with one lyric from her song Baddest Bitch:

And if he want some pussy that’s a no-no
I only fuck with bad bitches no homo

No homo–really Nicki? I can see if you wanna portray yourself as Bi and talk about women and men, but how do you “no homo”  a comment like “I only sleep with women.” If you say no to men and only fuck women, that is so homo.
Check it out for yourself:

You Gotta Fight For Your Rights

Found on Stud With Swag

Eating Pussy is a Civil Right

You Might Be A Lesbian If…

  1. While kissing your boyfriend you keep thinking of how his mouth reminds you of eating pussy.
  2. After your boyfriend goes down on you you barely think about it the next day except to kind-of wish he hadn’t–but when a woman kisses you that night for less than three minutes you can’t stop thinking about her the next day.
  3. You find dicks disgusting and don’t want to touch them never-mind have them anywhere near an orifice.
  4. You find yourself constantly checking out women everywhere you go.
  5. You really, really love eating pussy.

Okay, this post is not about you, you’ve probably guessed it. It’s about me.

I might be a Lesbian.

Okay, I am a Lesbian.

I need to admit it, own it, and stick to it even if it means being celibate until I find the right woman.

(And no, he’s not my boyfriend I just thought that sounded better for the sake of this post.)

Adventures in the BBW District Part 1

We walked into the room like a thicker, sexier, lesbian version of Girlfriends. (Wait, does that make me Lynn? I am the lightest, thinnest of the four of us, and I have been known to be something of a hippy…okay I’m Lynn lol)

Four femmes walking across the room and we were invisible. I found myself wishing we had a stud with us so that we would be instantly recognizable as the Lesbian posse that we were. Not that were really invisible–three gorgeous brown-skinned women with their cleavage and legs proudly displayed (and their slinkily dressed white friend) strutting through a room full of plus-sized white women and thinner black men is hardly invisible.

We were at a BBW party. That’s a Big Beautiful Women (and the people who love them) party. My friend Chelsea had the idea that this would be a good place to meet women. She brought her friend Tami: a drop-dead gorgeous, golden skinned, curvaceous woman with a neat short puff and a deadbeat stud wife. (Whom she conveniently left behind.) I brought my off-the-hook friend Kiki: dark-skinned, extra thick, with a cute smile, WAY too much ass, and more sexual energy than I could handle. (I think…I don’t know…I feel a combination of intrigue and terror at the thought of getting intimate with her.)

We found a table and sat down. Over drinks the conversation got kinky. I realized how nice it was to be out with women whose minds are possibly dirtier than mine is, and mouths that would make a trucker blush.

Rather tame sample of our conversation:

“Justa’s like you Tami, she doesn’t use toys.” Chelsea announced. Tami and I high fived.

“Not me!” Hollered Kiki, “I have a whole bag full of toys!”

“Me too!” Put in Chelsea.

Me: “My toy box is just the place I keep my batteries.” (Hoots from the ladies)

“So what do you like?” Tami asked me.

“I like eating pussy.”

“Mmm me too,” Tami responded, showing the piercing in her tongue and making prolonged eye-contact with Kiki. “I can make a woman come in five seconds.”

“I’d like to see that!” Kiki replied sceptically.

“Me too!” I chimed in, trying to think of a time I came in less than twenty minutes…or forty…or longer. I can be a tough nut to crack sometimes, even for myself.

A curvy blond in a leopard print shirt approached our table and started flirting with Tami. Tami complemented her on her shirt, then she complemented all of us on her titts….Tami reached out and playfully squeezed her ample tit in response. A slenderish blond woman joined us at the table, hovering around her ‘friend’ as she and our table bantered.

“So there are some pretty hot guys here, huh?” The blond asked.

“I don’t know.” Kiki replied, “I’m gay.”

“Well, I’m not GAY,” The ample blond replied, “I just like women.”

Part 2