Setup

If you know me personally, and well, then you know all the shit I will say in this blog already. If you know me socially, you will probably still have no idea who these people are. You might be able to guess. Basically, though, this is new to you too. I am doing an Ex post. And it's gonna get messy. But I will keep it anonymous.

-I was reading effing dykes, one of my *fave* blogs, and ruminating on my exes. Let me tell you, that shit reads like a chronological appendix of the girls I have dated or fucked.

- The Boy: this was my first girlfriend, classic butch turned tranny. She was a she when we dated, and he is now a he. We had an unpleasant breakup, but hey. He was my first girlfriend and then he told me he was going to be my boyfriend instead. I jumped ship, he may have called me transphobic, I may have aimlessly screwed several girls to get the taste of strap-on out of my mouth, he may have screwed several girls to get the taste of my self-righteousness out of his mouth, and he may have blogged about me being a bitch with an eating disorder (not true, by the way). But now we get along fine. He has a beard and gets a lot of ass, I don't have a beard and get a lot of ass, no harm done.

-The Crazy: I know everyone thinks they have a crazy ex, and they do. But she was the *queen* of crazies. We broke up 2.5 years ago (re: I dumped her crazy ass) and she STILL calls/texts/emails me on the regs. She is crazy delusional, threatens to kill herself, blames me for her general suck-ass-ness, and still tells me she loves me. I have dated 3 girls and casually dated like....4 since we broke up. She has dated an unknown number, professes to love at least one, and still calls me and hisses about how I am a heartless bitch. Even her friends think she went off the deep end. No one knows why we dated, we never got along and she was always a trash can. But I was the sads over The Boy and looking to be punished by a dickwad, and then she had some tragic family shit happen that I had also experienced and we bonded over that and then I felt responsible for her ensuing severe depression and volatile behavior. I refer to her regularly because I still halfway feel like she will go off the deep end one day and cut out my innards.

-The Bio Boy: not an ex, but bears mentioning. After those two exes, and about 4 others I hooked up with/casually dated, I went abroad. Eastern Europe will fuck your shit up. EVERY GIRL LOOKS GAY. None, and I mean NONE, of them are. They are severely offended if you even inquire. And after breaking up with The Crazy and making out with some faux bisexual girls on my study abroad program, I was all "women are the devil, I am fucking a man." So one of my good guy friends and I were drunk and- ta-da! We hooked up. It was fine at first and then really stupid. I love him to death, but I don't want to be with a dude. We had a bromance and were never affectionate, would hit on the same girls, get simultaneously shot down, shrug, and have sex without foreplay. I rarely ever looked at or touched his penis. I am usually a bit of a top, but with him, shit was quick and dirty. However: he gets bonus points for going where too few lesbians go: the asshole. If a girl throws the shocker, she gets an automatic 9 in my book. But ultimately, I am the lesbian cliche. I want to be with someone I could at least SEE myself wanting to be with, and if I don't, I am bored. So that was short-lived.

-The Good Ex: Ahh... she was such an upgrade from all other beings. But she and I did long-distance and are both super busy and ultimately I got the 7 month itch and now we are BFF.

-The Closet: she broke my heart/spirit/faith in women for a hot minute, but then my friend told me he saw a chunky 12-yr old boy in the supermarket and thought it was her, and I brushed my shoulder off and got back in the game. She is g-g-g-gay but is in denial. We had a twisted emotional affair with little physical reality and that shit got old. We remained friends for a while because I really cared about her, and then she fucking threw me under the bus like a little bitch and now, when I hear her name, I throw a finger in the air and exclaim "curses!" or "that cunt!"

-The Cute Ex: She is a fucking button. Melts my heart. Love her to death. But we fought like crazy straight girls and she has a wicked jealousy problem that does not suit my temperament. We broke up, but shit is still blurry.

Now, would that I could post pictures and reveal to you the perfect gradation of butch to femme. I have, in 4 short years, managed to progressively date femmer and femmer women. The Closet is an exception because she dresses similarly to The Good Ex (long haired jock) but would be more androg if she ever came out. I never intended to date butch women in the first place. They were not the girls I crushed on in grade school. But I am a) feminine b) lazy c) a recovering ragingly insecure little doormat. So I used to date whoever pursued me, and that was butches. But then The Crazy unwittingly knocked some sense into me, and I am back where I belong. I am still too oblivious to ever pursue someone, but now I have the good sense to turn a bitch down if she reeks of "I want to top you but secretly I want you to hold me." That ain't my scene. Though, "I want you to hold me and go down on me all the time" is equally not my scene. I like to cuddle and bone, but really I want to date a girl who is midline like me. I like the back and forth and I like a girl who is comfortable in many roles.

I would still date a butchier girl if she was really hot/awesome/we had great chemistry. It also bears mentioning that my hookups/casual dates are all over the place. Before The Cute Ex, after The Closet, I hooked up with a friend from college who is a straight-up rugby dyke. She is awesome, and I would totally date someone like her. I then had a one night stand with a girl we call Shins, for reasons I cannot name, and I legit blocked it out. She dresses like a fag.

I am always interested in the strange and varied queer dating rituals, because they are so comical. Gay girls can be as rigid in their expectations and roles as any straight males/females, and that is so damn ironic and annoying. I despise being approached by butches like I am some delicate flower, and equally despise being approached by straight girls/faux bi girls like I am gonna make them forget about all the men that broke their hearts. Get in line, sister. We are all trying to forget our string of exes. I'd like to do it with someone who doesn't play games, genuinely desires my anatomy, doesn't talk big game, and is going to fuck me and let me fuck them. Is that so much to ask?

who am i kidding

like i could really keep the rants down to 1x pr day.

so last week at the dentist, the technician noticed a crack in one of my teeth. sadly, i need a filling. i went to the receptionist and did the awkward time dance necessitated by the 1L year schedule: "i can do MTW 12-30 to 2:00, or 4:00 on, and also Th F after 1, except every other Th when I can only do it 1-3:30." yeah. i feel like a jackass. the receptionist was super nice and scheduled a 4:00 appt for today. she even wrote the time and date down on a nice little business card with appt scheduling space on the back.

i show up at 3:50, 10 mins early like i prefer, after dashing out of class to my car parked in the teacher's lot because of the timing issues of Boston traffic at 3:30. risking a ticket and spending 2 dollars in quarters, i arrive soaked and ready to go. i am then berated for being late because i had a 3:30 appointment and the dentist left. i receive judgey bitch eye from my favorite technician.

....not a big deal, except i am extremely punctual for professional type appointments. i hate when people waste my time and i try really hard not to waste theirs. i often show up a half hour early to appointments and interviews because i get so nervous about being late. in undergrad, in would routinely skip a class if i would be more than 10 mins late because i think it is inexcusably rude to saunter in at that late hour. if, for some reason, i would be that late, i would email the professor and army crawl in the back entrance, whispering "sorry, sorry," like it is my job.

naturally, i pull out my planner where the appointment card is paperclipped and show her that i am NOT late. she chirps "whoops," and then asks if I can do next tuesday at 2:30. so we go through the whole dance again, and i finally leave with a new appointment.

all in all, no harm done. except 45 mins of rush hour driving, 2 dollars on parking, endless irritations, soaking wet hair and sleeves, and a bitchface.


onwards.

So, I've taken quite the hiatus from writing. Mostly because I began law school, moved back home with my parents, ended and began 2 separate relationships, and have been generally disinterested in chronicling anything. I also deleted past posts and have decided to make this whole thing a wee bit more private/ambiguous. Obviously, if you know me, you know what's up.

So the rant of the day has to do with threesomes.

I am not exactly closeted and I do enjoy a good drink or seven. But recently I have been propositioned by two separate men with girlfriends in what can only be described as an entirely unwanted and offensive experience. One of these gentlemen was a guy I actually enjoy a lot, generally, and I know he meant no disrespect.

Listen, I am not a man-hating gay. I have two brothers, love my dad, love my dog, have a shit ton of bros that I totally adore, and regularly discuss sex tips and preferences re: females with random men I meet at bars. No shame, no game. If you want to know, out of curiosity and not condescension, how I "boned" that girl without a bone, I will probably tell you. If you want to know what the primary sex act is for lesbians, I will present my thesis with a full question and answer section. But I need to give you a heads up:

If you catch my staring at your girlfriend or glancing at her a few times, here is what is happening:
-I think she has a cute outfit on and am engaged in an inner battle about my ability to pull it off
-I am wondering if she's that girl who sits behind my in my Torts class
-I am disgusted by her bronzer
-I have something stuck in my contact and am looking 'round willy nilly
-She keeps sending me bitch face and I'm assessing the likelihood of me winning in a barfight
-I am mentally comparing my body/face/outfit/hair to hers
-I think she's super pretty and I'm jealous


Sad, but true. I really am that boring/shallow. I am not mentally fucking her.

THE EXCEPTIONS:
-We are at a gay bar. Then, sir, wtf are you doing bringing your girlfriend in these here parts? I don't want to fuck you both, just her please.
-She is gay. G-g-g-gay. Like, wearing flannel. Again, wtf are you doing dating such a closet case? I'll take her off your hands, if she's cute. If she ain't, I am just....stunned and confused. Staring like you two are the train wreck that you clearly are.

Look, I don't chase straight girls. I've "turned" a few in my day, but that is context based. The only "straight" girls I've ever messed with were gay girls who were in the closet. And they were hockey-playing, rugby-watching, sweatpant-wearing homos who grew up in W.VA or had pastors for parents that precluded them from flying the rainbow flag. I was not snatching them from your warm, masculine embrace.

The other exception is the gaggle of straight girls I've kissed in drunken gigglefests of my friends, where irony rules and no boyfriends are around. This either occurred between me and my bffs, while studying abroad in the CR, or while attending Smith College. So again, you were not involved whatsoever.

Alright? Great. Glad we cleared that shit up. No hard feelings.