Broken Up

If there ever was a good test to see the differences between the person I am today and the person I was seven months ago, it’d be this moment right now. Pix broke up with me last night and I guess I have to admit I saw it coming. I didn’t do the best job of stemming my normal pessimistic worrying and the last few weeks have been a mini roller coaster. But I’m doing OK. I grew a lot in the last four months. I’ve discovered truths about myself that I never would have even known to look for. I’ve met new people and reinforced old friendships. It’s been good. Actually, it’s been really fucking great. And I’m sad to see her go.

But, I know I’ll be OK, given a bit of time. I’ll move on, I’ll party some more, I’ll probably slip up a bit. And a month from now, 6 months from now, somewhere down the road I’ll forget quite how much this hurt and I’ll probably try it all over again. The human race would have a hard time surviving if it was incapable of forgetting the severity of past pains like childbirth and heartache.

Hot Tub: a new kind of drunking out

I held a very small housewarming party last Friday. I wanted to show people my new apartment and get some mileage out of the giganto twisty-turny pool that roams the courtyard. People headed over after work and we grilled veggies and veggie burgers, and steaks. There was much beer handed around and I tossed back some whiskey. There were even jello shots later in the night.

Pix showed up a little after the party started due to a crazy work schedule. I was well into my second beer and the bottom sixth of a whiskey bottle. The sun had just started to go down, so there wasn’t much pool time left. The slight breeze would have made it pretty uncomfortable to swim in.

Some of the guys, and a friend, Nicole, had just finished cooking the food, so we all huddled on a circular picnic table and stuffed our faces. I joked around with my friends and tried to keep in physical contact with Pix. I was hoping my proximity and the wealth of food would help de-stress her. It’d been a looong week.

You know, it took about an hour to get the coals hot enough to cook on, and it only took about 10 minutes to plow through all the food. Figures. It wasn’t long before we were all grumbling about full bellies and complaining about the cool weather. I suggested we pile into the hot tub. That seemed to perk everyone up and we abandoned our table and crunched through gravel and ornamental plants to the decked hot tub. We eagerly jumped in. And wow, did the complaints start flowing. Hot tub? Seemed more like a warm tub. Where was the button to get everything hotter? Could we get a maintenance person to hike up the temperature? After a few drunken stumblings and not-so-suave tamperings, we left well enough alone and resigned ourselves to sitting in a lukewarm pool. Better than swimming in the actual pool.

There was a lot of talking. And there was a lot of rough-housing. At one point, one friend had me upside down and was dunking me into the pool. My drunken brain started to panic and I knocked him once in the balls. He dropped me and went under. I thought that was pretty hilarious. I’m sure he doesn’t agree. But hey, I was pretty sure I’d have a bruise on my boob from where he’d accidentally knocked his teeth while struggling with me. Fair enough. We spent the next half-hour discussing whether or not I should have hit him in the balls. I stick to my decision.

Then I turned to my right and saw Pix talking to Nicole. I can’t remember the full details, but at one point, Nicole grabbed Pix’s foot and pulled it into her lap. Pix pulled away and went to the other side of the tub, not wanting to put herself in a sexually charged situation, I guess. At the time, my tipsy brain took entirely too long to figure this out. I thought maybe Pix was mad at Nicole for something. I was wrong and we started to joke about her making out with Nicole. Nicole stated she would be into that. We joked some more, before it became apparent that she really would be into it, and would me and Pix be, too? Pix didn’t really give an indication one way or the other, just looked at me for my opinion. Honestly, I was curious. Ever since the monogamy discussion (and the ones that followed), I was really curious about how I would react in such a situation. I voiced my consent.

I think I was more comfortable with the idea of Pix kissing someone else, if I was kissing them, too. So, nervous as I was, I had Pix kiss Nicole first. And I watched. And I felt. Was I jealous? Sad? Hurt? There was a brief panicky feeling. Would she like kissing her more? Did I just end my relationship? Then Nicole kissed me, too. And Pix pulled me close, putting her arm around me. And I calmed.

I’ve got to explain that the experience was nice and new. But not necessary. I never once felt like maybe Pix would need me to do this all the time, in order to stay with me. I felt like it was an added bonus. Something we just did because the opportunity presented itself and we were both interested. I knew that all I had to do was voice my discontent and we would stop. Pix remained in constant contact with me and even when she was kissing Nicole, I felt like she still had me in mind, still knew I was there. And this helped allay a lot of fears I had on this very issue. Fears that Pix would leave me if I let her experience other people. Fears that I would feel dirty and wrong if I touched someone else. Fears that even though I was open to all these new boundaries, I was deluding myself and opening myself up to more pain. Fears that, if I let it happen once, I’d feel obligated to let it happen all the time.

None of those fears came to fruition. I got to experiment a little with my wants and needs and, amazingly enough, came out intact and still happy.

6th Street: Cinco de Mayo

There was a party last weekend that I almost skipped. Except, when I told a few friends about my proposed absence, I was immediately engulfed in wails of, “You can’t abandon us.” and “Why do people become so boring when they start a new relationship?” So I went. And I had a lot of fun.

I realized that I didn’t want to become that “boring” person. And I realized that I hadn’t been hanging out with much of my friends. Not 100% my fault, as most of us work together and we’re all feeling the crunch of deadlines this time of year. But, I also hadn’t made it apparent that I was available for hanging out and maybe my friends were starting to assume I was busy, rather than ask. So I did what comes naturally and demanded everyone give me their time and attention Tuesday night. It was Cinco de Mayo and surely something would be going on downtown.

A group of us went, including Pix, and started the night at El Arroyo. We parked a couple blocks from the restaurant and took a leisurely stroll to the patio.

Most of the group had already made it to the restaurant by the time we arrived. Plenty of food choices, even for vegetarians and vegans and plenty of alcohol. I started off light with beer and Pix drank the fruity type of drink she favors (and honestly, it tasted pretty good). We sat around and chatted with everyone. Most of the group left after dinner. Damn you all and your early bedtimes. But, four of us headed over to Woodrow’s, then Halcyon, Rain, and finally Ginger Man. The spiked coffee drinks at Halcyon were pretty tasty and we were all willing to be a little silly. Pix mentioned (for the second time) this urge she had to play M.A.S.H. I hadn’t played since probably freshman year of high school, but I did vaguely remember the who-will-you-marry and where-will-you-live concept. While the two others ordered their drinks, Pix outlined the game on an index card and had me start filling it out. We immediately ran into a problem with the first question, “Who do you want to marry?” I don’t really think of the concept of marriage anymore. It’s part of my living-in-the-moment attempt. I used to spend entirely too much time thinking at least 6 months in the future. Usually, I had retirement all planned out. I can’t do that anymore and remain happy. And how awkward would it be to list people you want to marry in front of the person you’re dating? Do I include her on the list? That seems VERY forward. Do I not include her on the list? That seems … rude/false?

So, we changed the game. Who do you want to have sex with? And we changed all the accompanying categories (which I believe used to be, where you would live, how many kids you would have, and what kind of car you would own). Instead, we had where you would have sex, what you would be wearing, how many orgasms you would have, what food item you would use (in some way), and what music would be playing in the background. Hilarious. Especially when you were only allowed to pick one for each category and the rest of the group got to pick the rest of the possibilities. My favorites? The suggestion of Jesus and Santa for the person you’d have sex with and the furry costume clothing and dog biscuits. Awesome.

Later in the night, on the way back to our cars, I spotted a row of sprinklers. I joked with austinconfidating’s sister that we should run through them. She didn’t seem that receptive, even though I really did want to do it. Pix, who must have heard me, let out an immediate “I’ll do it,” grabbed my hand, and took off running. I didn’t really have any time to think it through, just ran along with her and started jumping and running beneath the spray of cold water and totally freaking loving every second. Even the moment where we both tried to get away from a different sprinkler and nearly ran into each other. I must have laughed the whole way. I couldn’t help but hug her at the end of the row.

I’m so glad I got to hang out with my friends. And I’m so glad that Pix came along. We’ll have to do that again some time.

What you can and cannot do

Coming from a monogamy-drenched background, it has never occurred to me to discuss ideals of monogamy with the person I’m dating. I’ve always assumed it meant the same thing for everybody. You date one person. You look, but don’t touch. You don’t fuck around. But, the more I think about it, and the more I actually pay attention to what I like and want, it becomes so much harder to define monogamy.

It doesn’t feel like cheating if I notice other women. Even if I voice my pleasure in staring at them. Doesn’t mean I’m about to ditch who I’m with to pursue them. And when someone flirts with me, it feels perfectly natural – and harmless – to flirt right back. And touch, I love touching … EVERYTHING. I run my fingers along shelves in Target. I rub my hands over sweaters hanging on the rack. I relish the cold of a metal seat seeping through my bones. And I love to touch people. When I talk, when I joke, when I’m drunk. In harmless platonic fun, and in slightly grayer, flirtier ways that still don’t mean much beyond immediate sensory pleasure. Nope, doesn’t feel like I’m betraying my partnership with the person I’m dating.

But where does it stop? Where do I draw the line? Kissing? Should neither one of us ever be allowed to kiss someone else? I’m not sure. I’ve had mindless, only-for-the-moment kisses that would never develop into more. I don’t necessarily see the harm in more of those. On either of our behalves. Don’t misread. It’s not like I necessarily want to keep the door open for extracurricular fun. Like, hey, I want my cake and I want to fuck it, too. No, really, I think I’m scared to put too many limitations on myself. What if, by saying what we CAN’T have, that becomes what we want? Everyone wants what they can’t have. It’s exciting. It’s “bad”. It feels good. Do I give myself a better chance at a healthier relationship if I give the relationship some breathing room? Sounds reasonable. And it’s certainly a different approach than the failed one that I tried before. So I’m open to it.

Besides that, I’m curious. I really do want the flexibility to explore beyond the stricture of the text-book relationship. How much of my previous approach was based on a moral structure I no longer believe in? To really figure this out, I have to test the waters. Play with my boundaries and see what feels comfortable. I have to ask myself, “What am I afraid of?” Obviously, I’m afraid too many rules will suffocate the fun out of the relationship. But, I’m also afraid that too much physicality (with other people) will lead to an emotional betrayal. That, by touching too much, getting too comfortable with someone I’m not with, or she’s not with, will mean that one of us will start to actually feel for that other person. The thing is, it seems like a dumb fear, kinda. You can’t necessarily stop yourself from feeling for people. It’s like saying, “Don’t you ever fall in love with someone else and leave me.” Except that happens all the time anyway.

I think, all we can really promise each other is honesty and (you guessed it) communication. Why wouldn’t I want her flirting or kissing someone else? Because I’d feel jealous. Because I’d feel inadequate. But, if I felt confident in myself and our relationship – as long as we’re still in the relationship for each other and as long as I know that, at the end of every night, she’s coming home with me – there would be no need for jealousy. Hypothetically. And though there might always be a tiny twinge of discomfort, I feel like all I need from her is a willingness to occasionally stop what we’re doing, take a step back, and reassess how we feel and what we want.

So yeah, when the topic of kissing someone else came up, I said I wanted to keep that on the table. Of course I can’t predict how her kissing someone else, or even me kissing someone else, would affect me. But that’s just the point. I don’t want to predict anything. I want to find out first hand.

Eeyore’s Birthday: notsodrunking

Austin saw some wonderful weather Saturday. Just cloudy enough to allow for hours of wandering the great outdoors in a crazy costume with a beer in each hand. Perfect, perfect day for Eeyore’s bday. I met up with a group of friends, who I will not mention individually because I refuse to make up 20 fake names, and we took in all the weird Austinites – ourselves included.

Pix and I went together and I got the chance to meet a cousin of hers. … who I’m hoping to see again in a setting where I’m not drinking and acting stupid with my friends. As I’ve mentioned before, it doesn’t take much beer to turn off my filters. All sorts of heinous things come out of my mouth. Please, please don’t ask me personal questions when I’ve been drinking. Especially if you don’t really want to hear the answer.

Not like I reached that point Saturday. I only had two beers. But still, why would I want someone’s first impression of me to be that I’m an immature ass? Well, unless that person LIKES immature asses. ‘Cause then I’m your man…ish…woman.

I had a lot of fun. Saw gigantic heads, gigantic twinkies, dozens of Waldos, and quite a few scantly clad women. Kinda reminded me a little of TRF. Great fun.

And the highlight? Hanging out with Pix WHILE hanging out with my friends. Ashley rarely hung out with any of my work friends and any other person I’ve … whatevered … has only ever hung out with me on an individual basis. So, it was actually pretty cool getting to chat with my friends and joke around like a dork, while occasionally pestering Pix or feeling her hand slip into mine. I think something that really bothered me with Ash was that we never felt like a couple. Not when the rest of the world was watching.

It took a long time before she felt comfortable holding my hand and we never really were into obvious PDA. We only ever hung off each other around one other couple, and I think a lot of that was because they were a lesbian couple, too. She wasn’t out to many people and that played a huge role in our relationship. Kinda forced me partially back into the closet. Which was NOT fun or healthy.

I guess I never really realized how much I resented having to hide things from other people, especially when it wasn’t my choice. I’m not one for facades. If you don’t like me for who I am, well then, tough skittles for you. I happen to be a very awesome person, and I don’t appreciate attempts to change that.

Pix seems pretty attracted to who I am. Which rules. And she isn’t afraid to express that attraction. Which means SHE rules. It’s an all-around ball of awesome.

So, yeah, Saturday. Great times.

“Our?” … toothbrush

It’s a bright, shiny morning. You spent the night. It wasn’t planned.

(…okay, it was sorta planned.)

You didn’t presume to pack an overnight bag, ’cause the “sorta planned” part was all in your head. So again…

It’s a bright, shiny morning. And your breath could probably stop a Mack truck. What to do? It would have been a good idea to avoid the roasted garlic upon garlic pizza. But that’s a little after-the-fact and you, my friend, now need a toothbrush.

“You can use mine.” She says and your brain struggles with the choice. Choose your own adventure time. Do you…

Eagerly snatch up the toothbrush and work your way to minty freshness? (turn to page 3)

Throw the toothbrush back in her face in disgust? (turn to page 6)

For me, it has never been a difficult, thought-out decision. I just take the brush. But taking or offering a used toothbrush can cross some major personal boundaries. When is that okay? When, if ever, can I reach over and snag food off of her plate without getting a fork to the back of the hand? When do I bypass sipping from her cup to chewing on her straw? Will she freak out if I interrupt her shower to use the toilet? Hmmm, not testing that one.

In my own experiences, I’ve shared bathrooms and toothbrushes and have never had a scarring moment. I figure, if my tongue has been in your mouth, there really isn’t any reason to be afraid of a brush with some sort of cleaning agent on it. And if I’ve seen your bits, I doubt I’ll have a stroke if I witness you, well, using them. Then again, I’m a woman and I date women. Maybe that makes it easier. We use the same public restrooms at the same time, so maybe it isn’t such a stretch to use the same private ones.

But I do know some lesbicouples that absolutely cannot share bathrooms or toothbrushes. So what is the difference between couples who draw strict personal boundaries and those that don’t? Decency? Prudence? Which boundaries make for a better relationship?

Maybe it isn’t the kinds of boundaries that make the difference, but the fact that there are boundaries at all.

Is she really okay with me using her toothbrush? Am I okay with using it? If both of us are comfortable, then we can probably place toothbrush sharing within our boundaries. But, if either one of us thinks that’s icky, then it’s probably best to make toothbrush sharing off-limits. Seems rudimentary. But how often have I assumed that my comfort zones are similar to my partner’s? It feels weird to be all in someone’s face about whether I can snitch their food or if I really have to close the bathroom door. Especially if it’s a new relationship. Seems a little clingy if I come right out and state that I have no personal boundaries. Besides, that’s not even true. There are things that I can’t share. I can’t think of one at the moment, but I’m sure they exist.

So, and this will probably become my mantra, communication is key. Honestly though, if I can’t communicate with the person I’m dating, I probably have bigger problems than who owns which toothbrush.

So anyway, maybe you turn down the toothbrush and she smiles, unoffended.

She asks, “Do you want your own?”

Ohhh, that’s a different question entirely, buddy.

UHaul syndrome

Most of you have heard this joke before, but hear me out. What does a lesbian bring on the second date? A UHaul. It’s funny how I can tell that joke to people who’ve never heard it and their reaction when they actually don’t get it. It’s not hard to understand. Lesbians have the stereotype of going on one, maybe two dates, or skipping the dates in favor of sex, and immediately fancying themselves as “taken” and partnered up. Some women manifest this delusion in whiplash fashion. Take Lisa, for example. I remember losing a lot of interest in her when, after a brief makeout session, and some pretty naughty dancing, she was leading me around by my hand and refusing to let me stray far. I could feel all these claimy, committed vibes rolling off her and suffocating me. I went home alone.

It’s not always that intense, that obvious, or that fast. But, some stereotypes are built on a bit of truth and I have seen myself reserve that UHaul after just a couple dates.

Is there a problem with that? Well, every relationship goes through a honeymoon phase and it can become a problem if you zoom straight into a serious commitment expecting that phase to continue indefinitely. And it can stunt the growth potential of a relationship if you jump right in, because the honeymoon phase doesn’t require in-depth, serious discussions of boundaries, expectations, and fears. If time isn’t taken to learn more about your partner beyond their favorite color and sex position, problems can definitely develop afterward. That’s why the UHaul stereotype is often followed by the Lesbian Bed Death one. Desire and interest can wane when you begin to realize you know nothing about and really aren’t compatible with the person you’re dating.

Taking things slow is a good thing. A difficult thing. But a good one. And there isn’t a definitive time line that details too fast, too slow, and just right. It’s a conscious effort to be aware of your feelings, your hopes, your assumptions and the honest attempt to voice them and actually hear your partner when they voice their own thoughts as well.