fingers, ugh.

Dana cut her right index finger. Sad! And it's her good hand, too! There was an accident with the meat slicer at work, and the first thing I asked when I got there to drive her to the walk in clinic was, "did you cut it off or just cut it? She assured me that it was just a flap. I won't lie, it's a pretty bad cut that required four stitches and a tetanus shot, but luckily her uninsured self is indeed insured by worker's compensation law. thank god. the doctor who stitched her up could have been queer, but there wasn't any hard evidence. thankfully everything was free, including the script for pain meds -- which means... We got free darvocet! Hah! Not that I would ever break the law and take someone else's prescription. *wink*

We went to see the local vaudeville/burlesque show Saturday night, which was pretty great. It was a little too zombie-centric and I'm really not into the living dead so I was disappointed by that. But there were lots of cute girls in bras and underwear and lots and lots of lesbians. woo! I should say, though, the drinks at this particular club are awful. If you're not getting a shot or a beer, don't even waste your money. Worst cosmopolitan I've ever had, with the exception of the one time the old man behind the bar though a cosmopolitan was vodka and grenadine. Nope! Try again.

There was even one who was about the size, shape and age of Crave and it made me miss her a little bit. I'm ever so fond of her girl-boyness. Crave and I are spirits that speaks the same language, sometimes we chance to meet in a forest clearing where the sun shines down and we share precious few words together. I don't think even we know why or by what means we are so drawn to each other. Strangers.

It was nice to have a date with Dana, to be out and about in public. In the morning I have sooo much homework to do, and I am not looking forward to it. Whoever decided that college should be so much work? Am I just a slacker? I mean. I only work 35 hours a week, but I still feel overwhelmed by all the homework. Blegh. Of course it is women's studies - notorious for tons and tons of mostly redundant, although very interesting, articles and books. We shall see.

Miss you all dearly! Love and kissies!

pool party!

I kissed a boy, and I liked it! He bit my lip, too!

5 queer girls plus an underdefined boy all naked or nearly naked in a pool this evening. this calls for troublemaking!

reconnecting

I would tell you how she eased her cock so gently into my cunt. If I wanted to, I would describe the weight of her hips rocking closer to me. I could give an account of the sweet way she worked her cock for exactly the third time ever.

But what I really want to tell you about is what happened afterward. Reclining on her back, she was resting from all her hard work, I flung my hair out of the way (it has grown quite long) and brought my hand down to where the leather straps were so tightly fastened around her waist, glutes, legs. I brushed my fingers over her labia, feeling how wet the show of my orgasm had made her, and finally pressed my fingers into her cunt. From there, my lips quickly found her cock, and I graced the two - cunt and cock - at the same time. Immediately, the obvious moan of her pleasure rose from her body. I love the way she takes to my fingers, or my mouth, or whatever the instrument of choice, allowing her body to be soothed by my affections.

We have a question for all of you - blog readers and writers. Some butches and transmen say that they can "feel" their cock when they ar wearing it. That the touch gives a certain sensation even though it's not physically attached. Is this cultivated? Does it have to do with the degree to which one identifies with a masculine persona? Is there a spectrum of how trans or not trans a butch can be, and if you lean to the trans side of things then it gives you pleasure to have girls touching your cock and if you're on the genuine butch woman side, then not so much? How does this all work? Having an answer to that question would be so very helpful. Sin? Dylan? anyone? What's this all about?

a change of luck

I had noticed her walking around alone, doing that sit-down, stand-up, walk-around dance that people who are in bars alone do. Looking drunk and sheepish. At 02:30 she sat down near where my friends and I were congregated. For the third time tonight. I'd decided I'd had enough of waiting for her to say something to me so I made the move. I smiled at her until she caught my gaze and blushed. Then, I plopped myself down next to her and delivered my classic line.

"Are you here by yourself?" [coy femme smile]
"Yes -- Actually my friends were here. they went home but I wanted to stay."
"Yeahh, that happens to me all the time!
"I'm a little bit drunk so I'm getting a cab."
"Well that's good."
"So, how old are you?" (always the first question followed by "are you bi?")
"I'm twenty-something, what about you?"
"How old do I look?"
"I'm not good at guessing games."
"I'm twenty-six."
[...]
"Are you from around here?"
"Yeah, I grew up here."
"I see. I live in South Town; moved here from Texas but I'm not from there, I only lived there a year"
"Oh really? Where are you from?"
"New York. I move around alot, I like to travel and I want to see everything before I die."
"Me too, I love travel, I've moved 7 times in 2 years."

She took the last sip of her water and said she'd be right back. I was plotting. Marian was wearing a blue striped polo, loose jeans and sneakers - a common butch sighting in this particular club. I went to the bar and stood up on my tip toes so that I would be seen (I'm pretty short) - ordered my new favorite drink - disaronno on ice. It's a nice break from the incessant cosmopolitans and shots of goldschlager.

When she came around again, I was leaning my back against a pillar, faced away from the others.

"Are you here with friends?"
"yeah, them" [I pointed]
"See that girl over there? She's got my heart. I mean, I'm not with her or anything, but if you ever have a conversation with her, she'll jut blow your mind."

Remember this is drunk talk, she probably wouldn't have said something that exaggerated while sober. I listened intently as she continued:

"She's really amazing, but she's untouchable..."
"She's pretty girly - do you like girly girls?"
"Heh, yeah, I guess I do..."
"Well, if she's untouchable, maybe you need to find someone... touchable?"

My breast was gingerly touching her elbow, her arm.

"I just got out of a real bad relationship. You know when you put your heart into something, when you think she's the one..." The rest of that sentence isn't important. What she basically said was she got her heart smashed and she doesn't have any intentions of letting that happen again. She said she believes that there's someone out there for everyone. I find it hard to believe there is someone out there for everyone. "So what's your story? What's your deal?"

"My deal? uh... I dunno." I laughed nervously.
"You know, do you date girls only? Do you date boys too?"

It was inevitable. Remember, she's drunk and heartbroken. Why do I gravitate toward these bleeding hearts? It's chronic, I swear. The last three women I've talked to have had these sob stories. Marian tonight, that butch latina from the next town over, and then back in October, that musician from my school who just broke up with one of my old classmates a week before she answered my Craigslist ad! No more bleeding hearts, Miss Avarice! Listen to the voice of reason!

"I only date girls."
"Are you single?"
"Um... yeah! But I haven't actually had a serious relationship before." [Maybe not the best thing to come out and say immediately, but why save it for later? Why not just throw it out there and get it over with?]

My memory is already missing some of the conversation. She finally [finally] asked me what I drink, said I should get drunk and enjoy myself. Just as I stepped up to the bar, the lights came on. Damn! Three a.m. Not even three, quarter-to-three and last call had come and gone without me realizing. Instead, she said next time, "I'll get it for you - when will you be here again?"

"Honey I work nights like you, I work Fridays but today I got out early..."

"Ok, well I'll give you my number and you can call me, instead."

So she gave it to me, gave me the spelling of her name, she saw my face in the lights. My friends rushed past us in the direction of the door.

"I guess they're leaving."
"You'll call me right?"
"Yeah if you can get whatsherface out of your head."
"I can do that, no problem."
"Then, I'll call. It was very nice to meet you"

She reached out for a handshake, I took her hand and I leaned in with my other arm for a friendly hug and stole one of those sideswipe kisses - the kind where just the corner of your lips touch the corner of the other person's lips. It's kinda like cheating.

I skipped out the door, hurried to my car through the chilled air and sketchy neighborhood, grinning.

boy on boy action

P.S. crashpadseries.com will release a video for download next Friday featuring two trans guys sucking each other off and wrestling for top. I am probably going to die of the anticipation before next Friday. See what they put me through! Finally another vignette with butch/transguys in it and they tease me with PICTURES. Ah! Granted the pictures are fucken awesome, but it's just not the same without the audio. At one point the one gettin fucked has his face smashed into the coverlet, ass in the air and and with his arm twisted around his back, he's grasping the other guy's hand. See? It's that hand-holding thing. I notice it everywhere now! There's also a picture of them - switched this time - and the guy has a Hitachi in his pants, and grasping his cock.

God, I love butches and transguys. Hmm. Damn. And I have to wait til next weekend to get my Jill on. Er... off, rather.

cradle and all

I hold my hand out for a femme who is walking in heels next to me when we go down stairs, because I want her to have something solid to hold onto in those high heels. I switch sides of the sidewalk when I notice a grate or something she can't walk over. I open the door for her because I don't want her to ding up her fingernails that she spent two hours perfecting. I take her coat because her dress is tight and if she lifts her arms up above her shoulders it could actually damage the dress.

I am aware of the ways that her gender - her physical body - interacts with the world, and I want to enhance that presentation, cradle her, protect her, celebrate her ways of showing off her beautiful, sexual, powerful self.

Just like she does for me.

Sinclair, Sugarbutch, August 2007

This is a little bit of a rant. This quotation comes up for me all the time in thinking about why I'm femme, why I love butch women. How I love butch women.

Just like she does for me.

From my paper journal: I've been thinking about why I love butch women so very much. perhaps I simply have a tender heart that sees the fragility of gender. The fragility that gender creates... How lovely. How dear their masculine identity is to me! I want to wrap myself around their queer masculinity. I want to embrace it, to protect it, to hold it tightly. I want masculinity to run to me when its self-confidence is wounded, so I can shower it with healing kisses. [reference to above quote] [...] It's the same idea of protecting the other persons' subjugated gender. I always feel visible and validated on the arm of a butch woman. Is that the same thing as feeling validated by a man? I don't think so. I pass for a straight woman, so being on the arms of a butch means I'm more likely to be read as a woman who loves women rather than men...

That is related to this:

Cody: I think so. I think that’s a big fucking part of it. It’s fear. It’s [seen as] not hot to be a butch, or a man. Because you have to work for it.

Sinclair: It amazed me how much I felt socially policed while I was still coming to this butch identity. All those comments from other butches about toughness, competition, objectifying women. I still get those comments - they just don't effect me as they used to. One comment would throw me for a loop for days.

Cody: Every time someone put down my butchness, or my male-ness, I regressed like YEARS in my discovery and comfortability with it.

Sinclair: [Masculine identities are] so sensitive! I wonder if this is also what teenage boys go through, all that fag/pussy-bashing stuff.

Cody: Homophobia: the deconstruction of masculinity. Homophobia is all about the construction of masculinity. It’s more about gender than sexuality - sexuality is a part of it, but its more about gender. It’s all about 'othering'

Sinclair and Cody, September 2007

My internal instinct is to love and cradle and hold very near to my heart the masculine identity. This is where it is fragile - there was not men's movement to give presumable "un-masculine" men a place in society! Boys and men are so harshly punished - more so than women - for being "un-masculine" and in my deepest heart, I wish to comfort, to console masculine people when they are looked-down-upon by society. I want to center their being, to build up their sense of self.

I didn't have time to explore all of that in my journal the other day. It takes much longer to write than it does to type, so sometimes all my thoughts don't end up coming out before I forget them. There's a problem here, if I feel invisible [as a woman who loves women] without a butch by my side I'm frustrated by the fact that I cannot feel confident about my visibility by presenting femme. So. How do I fix that? Do I have to get a big ole dyke tattoo? Do I have to wear a big sign around my neck (I DON'T DO BOYS, GO AWAY) or (FEMME FOR BUTCH. YOU?)

My time's almost up. Darn hour limits on school computers! grr!

not so dirty details

Essin' Em says I've been keeping you waiting. I'm a bit scatter brained so I'm sorry if things have been disjointed, lacking substance. So here goes.

The first person to answer my response to their CraigsList ad was Dave, a trans-guy and sweet as can be. After a few emails we've settled on a date for Monday to go run around Manhattan looking for trouble. Maybe not trouble. Maybe, we'll go to Babeland. Maybe that'll be my day to visit the Museum of Sex! Maybe I'll finally get to go to Zeytin. I should ask him, and then make reservations... Anyway, if we're getting along fine, I'm hoping to work on my bottoming skills. Soliciting and maintaining desire. I'm a little concerned about the strap-on stuff. I have a sinking feeling that I'm too tight, too new for that... I know, you're thinking what? How? A sexy bitch like you? Yeah. Good question. Ask me on g-chat sometime, I'll tell you a long story short.

The second email I got was from a cute and adventurous butch. I looked her up on myspace. I know. I'm always sneaking up on people, looking them up on the internet and finding out who they are. It's just what I do. Curiosity. Found her pictures, very cute. I think I'll be bottoming again... "no expectations about whether i get on top of you, or you get under me, ok?" Fine by me! We're meeting at some art show somewhere, after I get out of the workshop on Saturday. She's picking the restaurant... and a club for afterwards... and hopefully it'll be back to my overpriced hotel room. This trip is so fucking expensive, I better have some damn good sex to make up for it!

I'm hoping to get a date for Sunday evening and Tuesday.

Wanna know a secret? I've never been on a date before.

Yep. It's the truth. Unless you count going to the movies with my boyfriend from 7th grade. Yeah, he's gay, too. Classic, isn't it?

slacks

You were dressed up so handsome
for dinner the other day.
Walking along the sidewalk and
holding your hand made
(makes) me feel visible
and validated.

If I could, I would always hold your hand.
You in general. You with short locks
clipped so close to your ears, your neck skin.
You in the pinstripes, in the Dapper Dan getup.
You with hands so like mine. Hands so unlike mine...

"There are a lot of people here... a lot of straight people."
"Yeah I think we pretty much make up the queer contingent."
"Wanna make 'em uncomfortable?"

brazen femme

wheeee! i just got my book, brazen femme in the mail last night. you should have heard my squeals of delight! even though it is kinda busted from being mailed in... plastic wrap. but it's still so lovely!

i was so excited about that, and about financial aid coming through, that i bought four more used books which will be arriving at my house next week sometime. all of them covering the topics of gender. one of them, a collection of butch-on-butch erotica. hmmmmmm... my favorite. really. boys kissing. gets me [...] every time.

AHH! SO EXCITED!

and i paid off my credit cards.

the end.

hag

i realized the other day that i am a major, major fag hag.

two boys kissing just makes me smile and coo.

but i was looking at pictures of one of my butch friends kissing her butch girlfriend and in my head i caught myself thinking how incredibly hot that was.

and i can't get enough of it, apparently, no matter what type of boy, whether it's the darling gay boys or hot butches.

it's dark in here

So. She had two interviews yesterday and didn't call me all day, even though I left her a voicemail. She's been really down lately and trying to avoid me. I'm going to wait for her to call me. If she doesn't, oh well. I'm not a mental health professional, and I'm not significant enough in her life to be the one to pull her out.






That said, my life is absolutely boring. I have nothing of interest to report. Except that I'm moving in with a boy, I'm still single, and I had a little run-in with some haterz last week. I can't wait to start Fall semester and be in some real feminism classes and find me some girls that are a little more like me, eh?

Boi/Grrl Party

We're still talking. Still feeling out the situation.

The more she tells me about herself, her motivations, her life, the more I think I like her company. We definitely do joke around a lot and the flattery hasn't stopped. But tonight we got to talk a little more about some real life stuff. I really appreciate her heart. This is turning out to be very classic "don't judge a book by it's MySpace" because I didn't even give her a second glance until on a whim I decided to say "hey" to her Mobile AIM.

Y'know. I talk a lot of trash about sex. It's all over my blog, it's all over my flirtatious smirk. But I'm still so green, so new to everything. Not just with girls but with the fellas too. I'm still learning how to safely calculate risk. My *gem* heart loves adventure and flying off the handle into puddles of confetti and rainbow sprinkles. But at the same time, I do not tolerate mistreatment or manipulation of any kind. How can I predict who she really is until I meet her? hym.

these are the coarse oceans of desire and truth that i navigate through storms and sunny days. and tonight's a full moon...





touching on politics: Gendering - Butch and Femme

..."inherent to butch-femme relationships was the presumption that the butch is the physically active partner and the leader in lovemaking....Yet unlike the dynamics of many heterosexual relationships, the butch's foremost objective was to give sexual pleasure to a femme...
:) That part is my favorite!

flattery is just that - flat

So we're still talking. I'm not sure what to call it.

She's a little bit ghetto. But I think at my core, I'm a little bit ghetto too. She says she can't get enough of me. Still makes me blush. But how do I know how much of this is boi trying to score and how much of this is genuine interest in me. I know it's my weakness - the right words make me weak in the knees. But for now it's all talk.

You know. I've always done my very best to look beyond looks and look at the person. Physically, there are a lot more people that I am a lot more attracted to. But the more we talk, the more I'm hooked. The more I learn about her family and about what motivates her, the more I think I like her.

This is a strange experience. She's different from anyone that I've been interested it. She is utterly unlike the rest. I've surprised myself by this real attraction that is hardly linked to the physical.

So... 15th July, we'll see just what this is all about.

I think that makes me a birthday present...

on the road again?

...what's essentially hot about butches, and what is often absurdly forgotten, even by dykes, is that they are women -- women who wear masculinity better than men.

Michelle Tea, San Francisco Bay Guardian, 2001


so far we're matching up on a couple different levels.

i love to travel
>>> she's currently a truck driver (don't hate!)

i don't like big dogs, with the exception of pit bulls
>>> her travel buddy is a pit bull

i don't like girly girls
>>> being a boi comes natural to her

i'm like 99% bottom
>>> she's like 99% top (whee!)

she wants a wife
>>> i've learned to be domesticated

i like sex
>>> she likes it too (what a surprise!)

the thing is that i've never really met her and she won't be back in Florida until August. and she doesn't like to share.

if you're gonna be a truck driver, and i understand it's good money, i'm not hatin on that. but you gotta understand that i'm not going to go a month at a time without seein a bitch. i'm willing to share, but i'm not all about exclusivity at the drop of a hat.

and what's all this bologna about thinking you don't have a chance with me? I'm the one who says that all the time. i'm fighting with the butches and the femmes for the scarce attention of the few butch women that exist! and i always lose because i'm not aggressive enough or i seem aloof.

what i want is...

"Just a little lovin'
early in the morning
beats a cup of coffee
for starting out the day

Just a little lovin'
when the world is yawning
makes you wake up feeling
good things are coming your way..."