I really appreciate the butch-femme dynamic–from both sides!
See, even though I’m most often attracted to studs and butches–and love following on the dancefloor, having the door held for me, dinner paid for, etc., love, love love recieving in the bedroom–a part of me wants to be the one doing all those things.
I’ve mentioned her before, but I have a straight(ish) femme friend, and hanging out with her has given me an outlet for the butch side that I try so hard to hide. When I told her about my plan to dress like a stud for Halloween, she looked at me funny, and asked how that was different from how I normally dressed. I looked down at myself in my over-sized concert T-Shirt (Bob Marley) and baggy jeans, and realized that I did always seem to dress more masculine when I visited her. Now I do it consciously. Last time I didn’t even wear a bra. (When you’re already big, loose titts could be man-titts lol.)
Over time I’ve also been taking on more of the tasks that she usually assigns to her no-good menfolk: installing her AC, locks and curtain rods. When I come over I bring bread and salad and she cooks elaborate and delicious meals.
Recently she was talking about how she had to mow her lawn.
“Well I could have my son do it, but–” she started going through a list of possible dangers of lawn-mowing: dismembered limbs, gouged eyeballs, concussions…etc…this woman has a seriously over-active imagination.
“I’ll do it.” I told her, feeling wonderfully capable and completely disregarding the previously un-thought-of perils of lawn mowing.
“How much would you charge for that?”
“I couldn’t charge you.” I replied, unconsciously puffing my chest out and feeling deliciously chivalrous.
I could never be in a relationship with my friend, even if she was my “type”–I’ve seen how she obsesses over her partners, and I would not like to be the subject of that level of neurosis. (Plus, it may sound wrong, but she’s told me enough about her sexual history to make me not want to go there.) Even so, sitting there at the dinner table with her and our six kids–I feel the greatest sense of peace.
Heading home from her house with the mantle of female masculinity settled comfortably around me, I wondered how I could make the transition back to femme to go out that night?
Usually switching is not so much a choice as an instinct, it’s like I get gender-role exhaustion: when I go out excessively feminine, the next day I’ll go out as a boi, and after a boi day, I get tired of the negative reactions and extra–idk–work that presenting as masculine in society usually takes for me. Then I settle back into my daily low-key femme ways.
But with my friend it wasn’t work, it wasn’t tiring, it just felt natural…and right…hmm…(?)
With the kids in bed, I decided to start by shaving. After shaving my chin, pitts and those random hairs on my chest–I started feeling more femme–and was soon dithering between four skimpy, sparkly outfits.
What can I say, I love to follow on the dance-floor!