Coming out…again…

This isn’t so much a blog entry – though I will try to come back and flesh it out later – as it is a comment:

Having dinner with coworkers, an ex, a few of my friends, my girlfriend, her wife and her best friend (and sometimes lover) was…wow.

I introduced everyone to my girlfriend, her wife, and her best friend. Then we just ate and talked and nothing felt awkward or off. No one was weird. No one seemed offended. Just a huge group of people having a good time.

It’s funny how, like being a lesbian, whether or not I’m being monogamous is a non-issue. People may have questions, but it’s not some huge ordeal I have to worry over every time it comes up.

Dancing: Beauty Bar

I was dancing, being silly, and wearing out my feet to the DJ’s endless playlist. Christy, a friend of mine, was weaving around our group, her movements loose and energetic. She’d been celibate for a couple months and I think she was attempting to dance out some of her frustrations.

I kept my eyes on her, tracking her around the dance floor. She was a few drinks in and I was waiting for her to drop her purse, as she tends to do, so I could grab it before someone else did. The sex pulsing from her was drawing all sorts of guys, and even a few hipster girls. So each time someone would approach her, I’d dance closer to my other friends, not wanting to get in her way. At one point, this big, beefy guy told her she had great moves and that he’d been watching her. I snorted to myself and moved away. I used the time to dance with some guys and take a water break. It’d been only a few minutes when she grabbed my hand and pulled me to her and Mr. Beefy. She slipped an arm around my waist and told me his name and where he was from, her body turned to me. I shook his hand and was saying hi when she began to sway against me and in tune with the music. It was pretty obvious body language for “get me away from him.” I pulled her close and danced with her. I wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity.

She whispered that she didn’t really want to be around him anymore, so I pulled her closer, seemingly intimately whispering in her ear, and chuckling. I slipped my fingers into hers, familiar and comfortable, and we slow danced despite the fast beat. Then I slung her arm around my neck and pulled her even closer, breathing her in. Acting like we were oblivious to it all. Mr. Man got the hint and said goodbye. We continued to dance like that for a while.

It kind of killed me.

I couldn’t help but wish I were sharing the feeling for real. The feeling that someone was mine and I was theirs. I want it. So much that I convince myself that each relationship I have is The One until it ends and hindsight shows me otherwise. So much that I can’t even stay single for more than a couple months.

And I *am* happy with my current girlfriend. I enjoy her company, spend time with her and her wife, am happy when she texts me or emails me. But the more I’m with her, the more I want. Dancing with Christy made it worse. I want to be someone’s – anyone’s – forever. And I don’t know how to unlearn that. I don’t even know what forever means anymore. Can I be seriously committed as someone’s secondary? Would I then feel the need to be someone else’s primary relationship? Or do I want monogamy? I can’t definitively say.

My life is ridiculous

Crush: a burning desire to be with someone who you find very attractive and extremely interesting. In my case, I’m classifying crushes as pre-relationship. Actually, pre-any physicality. And let’s all remember that they are normally called “crushes” because they end in crushing turmoil most of the time.

It’s odd to think that I can count the number of crushes I’ve had on one hand.

1. I had a crush on a boy when I was 7. I thought I loved him when I was 12 and then I realized I was gay when I was around 13.
2. I had a crush on the head cheerleader in high school. I followed her around like a puppy dog and did whatever she asked of me until she graduated.
3. I had a crush on a college basketball player. I’m not sure I actually ever talked directly to her. It was so debilitating that I couldn’t even say hi every time Ashley tried to introduce us.
4. I had a crush on a rugby player for all of two weeks nearly a year ago. I got very drunk and told her repeatedly how cute she is. I still think she’s cute, but wow the drama.

And now? You are NOT getting the name from my lips. Because, yes, it’s likely that some of you know her. But yes, there’s a fifth crush. And it’s fresh. And it’s inappropriate. And it’s ridicutarded.

Most of the time, when I find someone attractive, I take a mental note and then file it far away under Not Gonna Happen, because I’ve either just met them, think they’re straight, or realize that the attraction is purely physical and that their personality already clashes with mine.

I’m picky.

And it’s unlikely that I’ll give you a second glance unless you make some sort of first move. Especially lately. I’m just too busy and enjoy being single too much.

Side track: I might need to define the word “single.” I’m currently kinda/about-to-be going on dates with someone. I’m still clinging to the non-relationship status, but that doesn’t mean I’m sitting at home by myself.

The thing is, I still WANT a relationship. I’m just less believing that a lasting one is around the corner. Which sounds cynical. But honestly, it’s more realistic to view things as temporary. Less drama, less worry, less hurt.

So why the uninvited dreams about her? Why the sudden desire to be in a relationship again, but solely with HER? Actually, why her?

Let me give you a few facts:

1. She’s straight
2. She is probably dating someone
3. She does not even hang out with me, or speak to me (when it isn’t necessary)
4. She’s straight
5. SHE’S STRAIGHT

I mean, come on. I get the falling for women only to find out later they aren’t really gay, or don’t want to be gay. Which, while different, end up sucking just about as much. Though, I guess Ashley got over the “not wanting to be gay” and I should have realized Katherine was just lesbi-curious. But this takes the cake. She couldn’t be straighter. And I couldn’t be sillier.

I notice things about her, even without trying. But I’ve always just rolled my eyes at myself because I figured there isn’t anything I can do about it. Somehow between Friday and today, I changed my mind. Despite the obvious hurdles (read: infinite brick walls), I actually want to do something about this attraction. This is where Argyle SHOULD tell me to step back and rethink my horrible decision. Except Argyle *encourages* me to hit on straight women. Why? Because Argyle is a lucky bastard who happens to have found the gayest straight girl ever.

So my first goal? Some one-on-one time. *snort* And just how the hell do I plan on getting her to hang out with me? Oh, I have plans.

My life is ridiculous.

What ‘Poly’ and ‘Genderqueer’ Means to Me

It’s 2 a.m. and I’m sprawled on a colorful glass and concrete floor on an Austin hillside. Twenty-five plus queers joke and hug and drink around me. There’s a hand moving high up the jeans of my inner thigh and someone briefly taps my shoulder for an utterly corny joke I made.

I’ve filled on cheese and bread and chocolate-covered strawberries and am now content to lay there, listening to the happy chatter and playing with the soft hand resting in mine. I’m amazed at how easy this is. To laugh, to touch, to be with people I’ve barely met. There’s quite a few kings I’ve seen perform, a few exes of an ex, people I met at Flipside, and others I’ve only seen on Facebook. One girl looks so familiar to me – I feel like I know her – but her name is not one I’ve heard before. It takes me a few minutes to realize I’ve read her profile a couple times on okc.

I’m truly enjoying the open atmosphere and the soft kisses and the cute growling noises. I’m feeling completely decadent and I haven’t had a drop of alcohol. Three weeks of sobriety and I’m getting somewhere. All those drunking experiences left me with a bit of doubt. How can I be sure I’m doing what I want to do when I can hardly stand up straight? How can I gauge my wants/needs when alcohol makes me so much more aggressive than I’m normally inclined to be? I can’t.

And I’m fascinated by these new friends. What else have I been missing out on? What more of me is there left to discover? How many different versions of me can I really cycle through?

A positively handsome, tall butch sits across from me, held in the arms of one of the hottest femmes I know. I’ve seen him before and watching him now further awakens my curiousity. Over half the crowd refer to each other as “he” and “him” and I’m more than a little imbalanced when the gender jokes float over my head. Obviously so much more for me to learn. Every person I already know in the group is in some form of a long term relationship, yet most of them now sit with others resting in their laps, offering friendly scratches and lingering hugs. Way more for me to learn. Nobody is angry, nobody is alone, nobody is too weird to join the group. A complete stranger skates by and we invite him to join us, offering up food and drink and he gamely joins in the late-night party. I am floored by the absolute welcome these people exude. The confidence they have in themselves and the love they spread to each other.

When I’m home again, in the early morning hours, I sit on the edge of my bed, too wired to sleep. I want to read up on gender discussions, want to understand what it is everyone else already seemed to know. I’ve never branched beyond the confines of the word “lesbian.” I’ve never worried whether someone would or would not mistake me for a guy. I’ve never cared to spell words like “womyn” or “grrl”. I don’t know what an FtM goes through, how drag kings feel about their personas beyond performing, what a genderqueer individual sees when they look in the mirror.

And polyamorism? I haven’t read nearly enough. Still have so many questions yet feel like I’d be an ass to blurt them out when they come to mind. That life feels so easy right now, but only because I’m not tied to any one person. As long as I’m “single,” this is an avenue I can easily take. But what happens when I fall again? Will I want to have multiple partners? Or am I just interested in a pathetic version of polyfuckery? Will I be attracted to someone that identifies as male? I mentally check myself. Do I identify as male?

No. I don’t think so. But that doesn’t negate my curiosity. Question after question comes to mind, but I don’t even know where to begin to find the answers. I curl up in bed, watching my dog sleep. I count the rise and fall of her chest and try to calm my mind. I’ll go to the bookstore tomorrow. I’ll contact a few friends with questions.

I have to know what I’m missing.

Friends, random hangouts, and other sober musings

I had lunch with Ashley and her gf (shut it) Bess (ahaha, I LIKE that fake name). We talked about clubbing and rugby and random fun when Ashley reminded me about her rugby game for the 12th time. I had already promised to go more than two weeks prior and she’s doggedly reminded me every day since then. I have no idea why it’s so important I go. But I’m going. As I told her at lunch.

But, I cautioned her, I would be coming straight from kayaking. A dive master I met while scuba training had invited me out to the lake in the morning and beer tasting in the evening. I might have a slight crush on her. So I agreed to both. Even though I’ll be waking up early on a weekend AND running straight from there to the rugby field. And even though I’ll have to give her my beers. *sigh* I really need to start letting people know I’m taking a break from the alchy. I need more willpower to do that though.

cute girl > liver

bwahahaha. So sad I’m convinced she’s straight.

I was still going on about my favorite subject (me … shhhh, I’m working on it) when Bess bursts out, “Why don’t people randomly invite ME to fun things like that? People are always doing that to you.” And while she and Ashley half-jokingly tiffed over Ashley never inviting her fun places, I thought about her comment.

It’s kinda true. I get some random invites from an increasingly large number of people. Jort festivals, beer tastings, public pillow fights, zombioke, metal concerts, Thursday-night clubbing, night diving, football viewings, and jam sessions have filled my last two weeks. I’d permanantly give up sleep if I could.

So why now? Why do I suddenly scream, “Hang out with me. I’m up for it all”? I think it’s because I’m relentless in my pursuit of people. They aren’t just miraculously appearing at my doorstep like she thinks. I’m looking for them, and I’m working hard at it.

For example, Bess and I are both on OKC. She keeps her account because she wants to make new friends in this new town. However, she’s ultra picky about who she talks to and she likes to carry on conversations for a few weeks before ever thinking about meeting in person. Me? I’ve become impatient over time. I now message all sorts of people and I make sure to invite them to a real place within two returned messages. I’m not looking for pen pals. I’m looking for dates or friends and both require in-person interaction.

I itch to meet new people and since I do so very well at talking about myself, I tend to make it apparent that I enjoy new experiences and odd events. So when somebody new has an event they want company to, I guess I’m one of the fail-safes.

And that’s more than all right with me. In fact, now that I’m more aware of it, I think my next goal is to further cultivate this availability I seem to be exuding.

Summer luau party

I always enjoy reading through austinconfidating’s blogs when I know that I was there at the event she’s describing. We usually have different experiences. For instance, chatting up random groups of strangers/friends has never been a problem for me. I tend to gravitate to the loudest group and determinedly steal away the attention. I’m an attention whore like that. So, when I showed up at the luau last weekend, I stepped inside and basically yelled out a big hello before walking up to the closest group and chatting about nothing. My conversation piece of the night was the fact that I was so slickly dressed up in black and white and a faux hawk while everyone else was in luau gear.

So, my goal was to have a few one-on-one convos with people I’d never met. Groups are easy. But it is so damn hard to wander up to that one girl that’s standing by herself and looking so cute and aloof. I immediately talk myself out of it. She’s probably straight. And even if she were gay, she’s either in a relationship or simply won’t find me interesting. This low self-esteem thing is starting to really hold me back.

So I’ve been using these parties to practice. On guys. With women, I only ever get anywhere if I wait for them to make the first move. I have no balls when it comes to stating my interest, so I just wait it out. This leads to very random, and infrequent, success.

To bolster my own confidence, I’ve started to walk up to random guys, introduce myself, and start conversations. It’s a bit like cheating, as I don’t feel nervous – this guy is not getting my number and he’s certainly not getting in my pants. But, there’s still some fear there of being ignored by a random stranger, and that’s something I hope will go away with practice. However, with guys, I tend to have a hard time getting the first word in. Maybe it’s because I’m so obviously gay; maybe it’s because I am more relaxed around them and am therefore easier to approach. Either way, they seem to have no problem zooming up to me and starting conversations.

So the party turned out to be sort of a racing game. I kept trying to find a guy I hadn’t talked to yet and then walking over to say hi before he spotted me and beat me to it. That, and it was hard to have individual time with anyone. I tend to tell loud and ridiculous stories at parties and that usually pulls a small crowd of people around me. Kinda hilarious really.

I eventually had a few jello shots and a glass of whiskey and coke. I had a DD that insisted I get drunk to make her not drinking worth it all. So then it was no problem chatting up strange women for the rest of the night. Really, I’m starting to think I need to give up alcohol, if only for a month. I need to figure out a way to gain true confidence that doesn’t come in a bottle. I know – blasphemy!

Friendship building: Kerbey

So there I was, outside of Opal’s at 11 o’clock at night, trying to figure out what to do for dinner. All week, with the scuba diving, I’ve had a hard time forcing myself to eat before class. So I’ve been having dinner around 11 each night. Wednesday night was no different; diving and swimming for four hours had me starving and we had just found out that Opal’s kitchen was already closed. My diving buddy and I were discussing possibly going to Kerbey when both of our phones rang. His was a girl he hangs out with (“Stephanie”) and mine was a girl I’d gone on a date with a couple weeks prior (she can be “Emily”).

Separately, Aaron and I explained that Kerbey was the plan and that they were free to join us if they wanted. Emily sounded more than happy to come out, so I hung up with her and waited for Aaron to hang up, too. Instead, he cupped his hand over the phone and turned to me.

“Do you know ALL the lesbians in Austin?” I wish. He went on to explain that Stephanie was telling him that the girl she had just finished a date with knows me.

“What’s the girl’s name?”

“Emily.” I figured. It would explain why Emily, who lived 30 minutes outside of Austin, was driving around downtown at 10 o’clock at night. I smirked at Aaron and explained that Emily was the very girl I had just invited to dinner. He then clued Stephanie in and she decided it might not be a good idea to come out when she had just told Emily she was too tired to do anything else.

Soooo weird. It just seemed like such a huge coincidence that the girls would be on a date together when Aaron and I were hanging out together, and that they would both end up calling one of us the second they separated. It made me feel even more like my social circle needs a little expanding.

Dinner at Kerbey was relatively quick and Aaron headed out a little after midnight. I was wired on coffee and ended up sitting in the Kerbey parking lot with Emily discussing video games, astronomy, and Prague. Since our date, we’d been emailing and texting on occasion. I had been getting a friend vibe the whole time, so I wasn’t surprised she had gone on other dates since. Besides, so had I.

We leaned back against the semi circle of my bed extender, feet danging off the tail gate, and stared at the bright star-like Mars that was moving across the sky. Time moved by relatively quickly and we watched as sheriffs and police officers parked outside Kerbey and went in for a late dinner or early breakfast. We watched as a ditsy blond attempted to get on her boyfriend’s crotch rocket, only to have a muffled argument with him when she fell off and dumped the bike on its side. People came to open their shops for the day, traffic slowly increased on 183. The sheriffs, for some odd reason, went back to their cars but never left the parking lot.

We kept saying we should go home, but then a new topic would come up. And the later it got, the harder it was for me to truly focus on what we were saying or doing. It was a bit like being drunk. It was after six in the morning when Emily and I finally said good night and went home. I hadn’t really stayed up that late for years. I used to do that all the time in college. Ashley and I would stay up until all sorts of hours just because we could. We even stayed up for 2 and a half days straight once, for fun.

When I finally made it home, I collapsed on my bed and started to fall asleep. Then my phone beeped. It was Emily. We kept texting back and forth until about 7 in the morning when I finally couldn’t keep my eyes open anymore. I got about two and a half hours of sleep before I had to get up.

If this is what it’s going to be like having a friend that is so young and carefree, I’m going to have to start taking naps in the afternoons.

It’s a small world and it’s getting smaller

I’m huddled in the darkest corner of the room, listening to the growing sounds of a so very hungry crowd shuffling steadily in my direction. My heart is pounding in my chest and the guns keep slipping from my sweaty hands. I’m standing as still as possible, breathing as shallow as my body will let me. The crowd comes closer still. I can feel their collective hot breath buffeting my throat. Can feel their broken hands reaching for my skin. I know what they want. I can’t stop them.

My life is a video game.

Lately, paranoid as it sounds, I really can feel that crowd breathing down my neck. In that crowd is every person I know. And though the piece of me they want isn’t quite so literal, they’ll take it all the same. It’s slowly sapping the happy out of me.

It’s hard to know where to start. OK, so I went and drunked out this Friday. I mean, REALLY drunked out. I went further than I wanted to, but I knew what I was getting into and I had alcohol anyway. And this is where I don’t know what to say. Normally, I’d spew out all the details. Who reads this anyway, right? Except this time, I feel too ashamed to share. Not because I actually feel like I did anything wrong, but because I’ve seen that disappointed look on my friends’ faces often enough to know I’m weary from it.

Something I’ve repeatedly told myself along this “journey” is that as long as I don’t regret my choices, any pain or other such consequences are manageable and worth it. I don’t regret anything I did that night. Sure, I think a little less of myself. I mean, wow. But I guess I just view that as a price I have to pay before I can finally figure out who I want to be.

Doesn’t mean I was all that angelic or even intelligent Friday. Or that I didn’t do something that would aggrivate my friends. I’m worrying them, disgusting them, and angering them. I’m bumbling around, willingly walking into situations I know will violate me in some way, will hurt me just a little. But I can’t seem to explain how totally UN-masochistic this is. How curious I feel and how much I value each lesson I take away from these crazy nights.

It hurt Friday, to discover how incapable I am of protecting myself, and to realize that I’m not always surrounding myself with people I can trust my well-being to. That might sound like a given, but I guess I was really starting to automtically trust that people would have my safety and interests in mind. ha, naive, I know. But now I DO know. Now I’m maybe just a bit smarter. Having people tell me to watch my back, to be careful, and to drink less is nothing like figuring it out for myself.

What hurts more, is the knowledge that my friends might think less of me each time I do something stupid like this. That their response will be a resounding, “Duh, what’d you expect?” and a look of pity. So I strain myself, attempting to give off an aura of confidence. I know what I’m doing, everything will be ok. Except I’m scared half the time. I don’t know what will come of all this. I don’t know who I’ll lose and what I’ll become. And what if it’s too late? What if the person they’re sticking around for doesn’t exist anymore? Maybe the pieces of me they love are already gone. What they want, I can’t give. I’m not sure. Maybe I’m just tired. Maybe I’m still hungover. Maybe I need to stand in front of a mirror and say “I’m worth it, damn it.” ha

Maybe I need reassurance. Tell me I’ll be ok. Tell me you understand.

You know.
Lie to me.

Slightly drunking: swimming in my boxers and other weekend follies

This weekend, I got a bit of closure from the whole month of drunking with Kasey that occurred earlier this year. Each time I think back to how it ended, I cringe a bit, because we did a pretty good job of using each other. It made me feel a little worthless, to only have a person want to hang out with me and kiss me when they had been drinking. But I went to her for the same reason. And it never occurred to me to ask more personal questions to find out what Kasey was going through. I was just too wrapped up in my own crap.

So anyway, this weekend I was enlisted by Kasey to make a meeting with an ex of hers slightly more tolerable. She’s pretty tight with the family and felt obligated to go to one of their gatherings, but she really didn’t want to go empty-handed. I had met some of the ex’s family before, and Kasey knows I can field questions and talk people’s heads off. So I went and played the outgoing date, got drunk with Kasey, went swimming in my boxers (unlike Kase, I did not have a swimsuit tucked away in the car), and just generally blocked Kasey from as much annoying ex crap as I could. It still wasn’t super fun for her, but I hope I made it better than it could have been.

And it helped, to finally meet this ex and get more of the story of why they broke up. It helped me understand why Kasey had been so into drunking the same time I was. It helped me NOT feel so worthless. We just happened to meet at a time when we were both so very hurt and so very needy.

So later in the night when she kissed me, I felt something I’ve never felt before. A sort of relaxed kinship. A feeling like I’d truly made a friend that I didn’t feel awkward cuddling or lightly kissing. We hung out at her place afterwards, drinking beer and talking about exes and jobs and whatever else tipsy people talk about. And we said good night with a hug and a kiss and a feeling of almost gratitude. For having someone who’s living a similar life. Someone who’s scarred and still breathing and still trying.

That night was so very different from the following night. I met a very, very cute hipster girl on OKC that thought we had a lot in common. So we decided to meet last night and check each other out. I later ended up confessing to Argyle that it was the most nerve-wracking date to-..uh date. I literally tunnel visioned when I saw her, dropped my jaw, and then nearly punched a passing guy when I shot my arm out to shake her hand in an awkward greeting. I was like “H-hi” and then shook like a little Chihuahua. Pathetic.

My normal ability to act more outwardly calm than I feel completely escaped me. I stuttered and blinked a lot and probably laughed nervously more than once. FAIL.

I console myself with her reciprocal awkwardness. Sadly though, the lack of inhibition-killing alcohol and the nervous standoffishness makes it very hard for me to judge how the date really went. Honestly, I’ve gotten used to either being very straightforwardly shot down, or so obviously hit on. So I’m a bit at a loss.

Fun times though. Total fun times.

OKCupid: Do I?

OKCupid. You know you have an account with them. And if you don’t, it’s only a matter of time. Me? I was forcefully signed up after Ashley and I broke up, so I’ve been a member for a couple years. That’s right – before it became the cool thing to do.

On it, I tend to be really picky. Text talk turns me off and I ignore anyone that winks at me or has kids or is taller than 5 foot 8. Before Pix, I turned away anyone who mentioned polyamourism, though invites to join a couple so the boyfriend can watch still turn me off. I usually avoid people under 21 and over 30, but I’ve gotten better at that. I don’t know if it’s an age thing, so much as a I-like-to-party thing and I really don’t want to feel like I’m being tied down. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve had the kind of relationship that feels all homey and settled. I just figure while I’m being picky, I’d like to have someone to go out and have fun with.

In general, I rarely respond to messages, especially if the person states that they are lonely and need company, or if they tell me the naughty things they want to do with me. I mean. Come on. I don’t even know you. Gross.

But, you know, the whole point of OKC is to experience new and different people, to put yourself out there on the meat market. So, I’ve made myself chat up 30+ mothers who think I’m cute. To humor wannabe gangsta girls that type the way they most likely talk. Horribly. I even read through one profile and saw that she had been in rehab once before, but that it was “in the past.” I thought, “That’s cool. Everyone makes mistakes. At least she learned from them.” But her profile later listed that she smokes, drinks, and does drugs. So I’m guessing she meant *trying* rehab was what was in her past…

These are the extremes though. There are a lot of seemingly normal people on OKC. I figure, why not meet them in person? If there’s no chemistry, it’ll still be a fun night and maybe I’ll gain a friend from it. And I really want more single, gay friends.

The point? I used to really make fun of dating websites. I mean, who really believes everything people put in their profiles? Most people are going to hype up their awesomeness and pick their most flattering photos. And, speaking of photos, who knows whether people are even reading your bios or just picking or dismissing you based on looks?

Doesn’t this sound familiar though? The first time you meet someone, your looks play a huge part in first impressions. And most people play up their best qualities in conversation. So, really, web stalking is just the same old game on a more global scale.

So, really, why not join the fad? You get better odds of finding someone. Or… at least, you get to be shot down by a much larger range of people.

And on that note, I *happened* to be on the country station when a Brooks and Dunn song came on that described my dating mentality oh-so-well:

I thought all along you’d
Be the death of me
I met one tonight who wants
What’s left of me
I’ve seen that look before
She’ll tear my world apart
I’m working on my next broken heart