Jul 17 2010

“I’ll explain where I’ve been for so long.”

I haven’t had all the time that I want to write lately. I’m under tremendous stress at work in a job I hate, so when I’m not at work or job hunting (shh), I’m trying to just relax. My personal life is also crazy for other reasons too, not the least of which was a car accident the other day in which some unfortunate soul decided to just ram her car into mine on the freeway.

But! There have been good things, too.

Quality time in the hammock

I saw Jonatha Brooke in concert again!

Want to be an OG on July 4th? Wear a glow necklace and drink apricot hefeweizen. FROM THE BOTTLE.

I saw Brandi Carlile in concert again, too.

I cuddled with a magnum of cava while my friend ... well, anyway.

I’ve had good times with great company this summer, including two amazing concerts, and more fun on the way. Here’s to more fun on the horizon – I need it to retain my sanity! And if you have the chance to see either Jonatha Brooke OR Brandi Carlile this summer, you should certainly do so. Both are amazing artists who make incredible music.

Oh, and the title of this post is from “Of Graves” by another favorite singer, Alexa Wilkinson:


Jul 9 2010

A butch among men: now, with women!

So yes, I get along with men pretty well. It’s a necessity; they’re everywhere these days. But there’s a distinct difference in how I act when I’m out on my own versus when I’m out with a date or female friend.

I’m much more guarded, for the benefit of both me and my companion. I still like to have a good time, but I’m watching everything and everyone. I notice when a man walks by a little more closely than he should, or pays a little too much attention to her from the bar. I stand taller, walk a little more aggressively, drink less and sit between her and the sketchy guy at the next table who can’t stop looking at her or at us.

I figure one of the reasons that this happens is because they’re checking out my friend or date. There is the occasion when a guy will flirt with me, but it’s so rare and laughable that I don’t often think about it. In any event, the look on a man’s face when he’s admiring an attractive woman is clearly different than when he’s thinking he’d like to take her out back and fuck her, whether she’s given him the time of day or not.

There’s another angle, too. If it’s a date, and a guy figures this out, that can change everything. I’ve heard everything from fascination (“Oh, hey – can I watch?”) to optimism (“You just haven’t met the right guy yet”) to confusion (“How can you be that hot and not like cock?!”) to denial (“Spend a night with me, and I’ll turn you straight”) to anger, which usually then gets blamed on me (“You couldn’t get a man if you tried,” “No wonder you’re a dyke – you look like a dude” or “You better watch it. Some guy will change her mind”).

I feel like there is a delicate way to handle these conflicts. If a guy starts coming on to her, I feel like it is her right and responsibility to respond to him in a way that helps her maintain her autonomy and power. If I jumped in every time that happened, I’d be doing it a lot, and it would only make me look jealous. But more importantly, in my opinion, my knee jerk reaction would take away from her the ability to express herself with conviction; he should hear it come from her mouth that she’s not interested (for whatever reason). The last thing I want him to think is that she’s too vulnerable to speak on her own or that because I intervened, she might feel differently.

This isn’t to say she’s on her own. I’ve found that it helps to have this conversation at some point with my date/friend. I ask how they handle these situations. I ask if they can think of a situation where they’d like me to get involved and, if so, at what point they start feeling like they need some support. Is it the third time he asks? Is it when he puts his hand on her arm? I want the women I go out with to have a comfort level, to know they’re not alone. We all need someone to have our back sometime, you know? There might be idiots out there that start shit – we’ve all seen it – but running into them shouldn’t compromise the strength of my relationship with my companion. Should this conversation happen before a first date? Maybe not. But should it happen after a couple of dates, or with a friend you often socialize with? Absolutely.

Reining it in is hard for me sometimes. I’m protective, and sometimes guys just don’t get it. When some drunk idiot won’t give it up, it’s all I can do not to kick his chair out from under him. However, I usually end up doing one of a few different things, depending on the situation: I make a joke with him, let him know that I see what he’s up to; I take it up a notch and suggest that he actually listen to what she’s saying to him; or I let him know in no uncertain terms that she is telling him to get lost, and he should do just that. And in some cases, it’s apparent that the best thing to do is pack up and call it a night. I know I’m strong. I’m know I’m masculine. And while those qualities help me, I also know that if some guy made up his mind that he was going to have his way, there would be little I could do. I hate that physical helplessness, but it’s also made me smarter. And it’s not about focusing on what I need to feel secure; it’s about preserving the relationship, no matter what.

I want to reiterate that here have been only a handful of times that a guy has been a complete asshole to me or a woman I’m with. While that’s not a high percentage, it’s enough to keep me wary and alert. In those cases, I’ve also been in a place where there were a lot of people around, strangers, who also saw what was going on, and that helped convince the guy to back off.

Society has changed. Straight bars are no longer only for heterosexuals, and gay bars aren’t always patronized by only LGBT patrons. Misunderstandings happen all the time, and I’ve actually met some pretty cool guys because of this; most of them had no idea what they were getting themselves into, and when it’s clarified for them, they tend to be very embarrassed and apologize. By the end of the night, we’re all laughing about it.


Jul 6 2010

A butch among men

I went to my friend’s July 4th barbecue over the weekend, where I spent the majority of the night talking to some straight, married guy (Mormon, even!) I met when I arrived. We discussed the plight of our poor, poor Chicago Cubs (we are both fans), American history – both Revolutionary and Civil War-era, Utah’s stupid handgun laws and traveling around the country. Sure, I hung out with my other friends too, but that was by far the best and most substantial conversation of the night – both he with his can of soda, and me with my bottle of beer.

It got me thinking about my relationships with men in various settings. When it’s one-on-one like this, I get along with guys pretty well. In high school and college, I always got along with and a responded better to my male coaches than with my female coaches. I excelled in my military career, in which I worked in groups that were predominantly male. I tend to gravitate more toward my male co-workers at department meetings and functions. I just relate better to men in general than I do to women, and I have a lot of male friends as a result.

I attribute part of this comfort to my family structure; being the youngest sister to five older brothers dictated that I learn to socialize in certain ways. I learned to say what I mean, to speak up in matters that didn’t really involve feelings. I may not be great at standing up for myself within my family when it comes to my personal life, but hell – if I wasn’t aggressive in other ways, I never would’ve had my fair share at the dinner table. (I’m not saying this is a good thing, I’m just saying it’s the way it was.)

I also credit it to the fact that for me, there is absolutely no sexual tension. I interact with men objectively without any underlying intent or objective outside of that particular conversation. I’d like to say that I do the same with women, but that would be false. And no, I’m not creepy (I don’t think); it’s just different talking to someone you’re attracted to, and I happen to not be attracted to men. So. Continue reading


Jun 16 2010

“Save me!”

It’s not often that I mind finding myself in a room full of women. In fact, let’s be honest: most times, I quite like it.

But if that gathering is for a bridal or baby shower, count me out. I had to go to a baby shower last weekend, and it was downright painful. I was dreading it the whole time leading up to the event, and I kept telling myself to try to relax – how bad could it be?

The answer: bad. I went primarily to be the wingman for my BFF, G; otherwise, I would’ve politely declined. When G arrived at my place, we did a shot of vodka. We then packed a little road soda of ginger ale + vodka to tide us over (also: calm our fears) until we got to the shower, and I couldn’t have been happier that we employed that strategy. Within ten minutes after arriving, G and I were stealthily texting back and forth, with the messages ranging from “SAVE ME!” to “WTF” to “You have got to be kidding me.” I thanked my lucky stars for that vodka shot and road soady, because without them I may have had some sort of Tourette-ish outburst.

I don’t know exactly what it is that bothers me about baby/bridal showers: the hetero culture of it all, or the fact that it was mostly Mormon women there, or the fact that I am not good at bestowing shallow or fake praise (all those “oohs” and “ahhs” I’m supposed to deliver). I always feel completely out of my element. I’ve attended gay baby showers, but those aren’t really showers – they are PARTIES. I can totally get behind that.

And then there were the games. Continue reading


Jan 18 2010

Butch bonding

When I lived in Memphis several years ago, I hung out with a group of four or five butch/boi friends. Our girlfriends were friends as well, so we all did a lot together: barbecues, trips to the Gulf, pool parties, you name it.

Not only did my mixed group get together on a fairly regular basis, but we also implemented a Boy’s Night Out. (The ladies had their night out at the same time, but I’m not here to tell their story. Also, they didn’t tell us what they were doing half the time. They’d just say “girl talk” and giggle when we asked.) Boy’s Night Out was our time to get together and hang out, just us boys. This involved all sorts of activities like watching a ball game, going to heading to the neighborhood bar to shoot pool, or just meeting up at someone’s house to grill out and have a few drinks. In the fall, we’d also get a bigger group together at a park down by the Mississippi to play football. No matter what the occasion, there were a couple of simple rules: get together consistently, be ourselves, and no girls allowed.

We should’ve had a tree house, damn it.

Continue reading