So that's why I wasn't popular

I'm going to be Xena for a Halloween party we're going to. Boy sorta convinced me. It's partly exciting to be my childhood hero, and it's partly nerve racking since I feel so strongly about her and can do a season-by-season critique of the series. Laaaame.

Me: I dunno if I want to be Xena for Halloween.
Boy: Why not?
Me: Because everyone has mocked me for liking her over the years. I dunno if I can share my love for her with a buncha strangers at a party. Plus I'm in the closet.
Boy: I doubt that anyone is going to be like, Ooh, look at that girl being Xena! I bet she's a queer!
Me: Noo! I'm in the Xena-loving closet.

Boy: Let's watch some Xena together.
Me: [whining] You can't understand my love for her! It's a retroactive passion! I grew up with a shitty mother figure! Xena is strong, smart, and kicks ass. Besides, we don't watch TV.
Boy: I'm sure I could at least appreciate what you see in her.
Me: Well, I have to warn you that my IQ drops like 20 points when I watch her.
Boy: I'm going to enjoy this. Plus you said there was eye candy.

Me: I don't like how there's some blonde modeling a Xena costume on this package. She wasn't blonde. And Xena didn't wear that much blush or wear lame boots like that.

Me: This costume comes with a cape. I won't be wearing it.
Boy: Why not?
Me: Xena didn't wear a cape, and she's above the cliche of wearing capes.
Boy: Your obsession is adorable.

Uh oh.

1. Boy and I have been practicing cohabitation during this past week. It has been going well so far. I find myself enjoying doing domestic things with/for him: the dishes, cooking, taking out the trash. When the hell did this happen?

2. I am somewhat pleased to report that the sporty spice part of me is coming back in bits. I don't foresee myself being a gym whore with workout goals anytime soon. But it's certainly nice to whip a little ass on the basketball court and glide a frisbee around.

3. I am gaining weight. My love for dark chocolate is helping. I know that this is good; even I was starting to feel like I looked too much like someone from a third world country. I am eating more on purpose. But this doesn't mean that I'm doing what I really want to do. I'm just doing the right thing, because, well it's the right thing. I do not want the right thing.

I am coming to accept that I will always be playing a bit of a game with myself that bounces between scratching an old itch and being "normal." Luckily I am not putting my health at risk.

4. I am finding, more and more, that finding a female visually pleasing does not necessarily mean that I have any desire to touch her.

5. I wish I wasn't such a bitchy hypocrite about pudginess. A tiny bit of girl pudge is cute and tactile; a bit too much of girl pudge turns my head away. It's worse that I don't judge males as harshly. I feel like such a bot.

Lowered Expectations

I haven't really hung out with my female friends much as of late. I could stand to not be in the presence of testosterone for an evening. Not that I don't enjoy being desired, and I am currently in a state of aching boyfriend withdrawal, but I sorta forgot what it's like to interact with people and not get groped.

I'm realizing that a part of me doesn't really want to try to find a girl to date. I feel like this is wrong; I should stop being afraid and try to experience different things. I'm young, my tits are still perky, and life is short. But, ugh, I feel like I don't have it in me. I suppose this would change if an amazing girl was in the picture. Then I'd have no choice because I don't say no to amazing people unless they repeatedly treat me like shit.

But amazing girls don't really fall into one's laps. At least they don't fall into mine. I'd have to look. Do I look casually or with some drive? Meh, it never hurts to keep your eyes open.

I need to remember that girls can be as mean as boys. We all expect men to be douchebags, particularly about sex. And they pretty much all are douchebags about sex at some point (to varying degrees). So the blows I've taken from boys have hurt less in a way because I hold them to a lower standard; I need to adopt this same standard for girls.

In some ways, I have the potential to romantically "have it all," but I can't help but be skeptical.

No.

This evening I got a call from my best friend's boyfriend. I hadn't heard from her in a while, and she hadn't been responding to my calls/texts. I was starting to worry, but she does things like get busy with life and lose her cell phone charger, so it wasn't anything out of the ordinary.

But my gut instinct was correct: she tried to kill herself. My best fucking friend who I can say anything to. She's the first person I outed myself to way back in high school. I had so much respect for her in high school and prided myself on winning her over because she intimidated so many people. The friend that I've always been able to get support, insight, humor, and understanding from tried to say goodbye to existence forever.

I feel like a crappy friend. I feel like I shoulda been more keen and diligent about watching out for her. I knew she wasn't feeling terribly happy with her life, but I didn't think she would do something like this. We are, after all, mildly depressive people. But I shoulda seen through the her tough exterior.

I need to step it up and be a better friend. I need to give more.

Whore Thyself

After months upon months of waiting and working, my life appears to be heading in the direction that I've been wanting it to.

I've noticed, however, that the buysness has left me with little time for myself and my personal pursuits. I've been spending the majority of my time attending to life's inevitable obligations, pleasing others, and getting bullied. It's been taking a toll.

Furthermore, it's gotten to a point where I'm falling into a pattern of being afraid to be assertive with anyone because the best way to keep the peace is to just give in regardless of how I feel.

Lame. This is unlike me, and it's a step backwards. When did I become so accepting of oppression? Sure, we all have to do things we don't 100% enjoy to survive and compromise, but this is starting to cross a line. I need to treat myself with more respect.

And, for the sake of comedic relief, I'll link to this clip (Shane and Alice's clothes, however, are embarrassing).

Sigh, I miss the joy of listening to a new Kelka podcast. I hope that day comes again soon.

Cutting to the Chase

1. I used to be sporty spice. Now I'm a scrawny, whiny pansy. The thought of working out in a serious way sounds sort of...foreign. I used to love being athletic, and I find athleticism/physical fitness to be a turn-on in both boys and girls. I used to want to compete with guys in gym class and prove that I wasn't just some pushover girl. Now I'm content to just be the weak one.

2. The most acceptable thing your boyfriend can whine about is wanting to lick your clit more. I am one lucky bitch. And any woman who complains that men suck at eating pussy is either 1) a bitter, man-hating lesbian or 2) a bitter straight woman who is with a non-GGG partner.

3. For a while I didn't think I could love a boy as much as I currently love my own. I kinda got locked into the idea that the love between two people of the same sex would be inherently more intense and understanding, even though I've only really been pursuing guys for the past few years now. But now I really see that the gender of the person doesn't matter; a connection is a connection.

4. I'm going to be honest and admit that unintentionally losing 15 lbs and weighing less than what I weighed in high school has me slipping back into old patterns of obsessing over what I eat. I am not out of control by any means, and I have people who've got my back. But there is a danger in losing the taste for things like candy, bread, pasta, etc. There is a danger in "seeing the light" and realizing that these foods are nutritionally unneccessary.

5. I know it's about the desire for control during stressful times. But I also hate having a [predominately] female mental issue. I'm going to have to make a point to bring my mind and body back to a state of balance that appeases both my desire for discipline and my desire for joy.

All Apologies

So I'm in my mid to late twenties. Most of my friends are too. I've been hearing more and more of them say things like, "I thought I would be further along in my life now," or "I feel behind" I've been noticing a lot of feelings of inadequacy over not making enough money, not owning property, or not being in the ideal relationship.

It's kind of depressing. Not only because the people I care about feel dissatisfied with their lives, but because I'm not sure having all of these things is going to guarantee peace of mind/fulfillment. And what happens to one's sense of self when these things disappear/are threatened?

I feel like people want things like marriage and a certain career more for the status these things display than for the enjoyment they bring. I'm definitely not anti-ambition, and I can see myself being married (and even having kids!) if it was right. But it feels like these goals are a bandwagon, and it's a bit of a downer.

No, I'm not going to try to preach that you are the all singing, all dancing crap of the world.

But when I'm really honest with myself, I can't see myself being anything beyond my state of mind in this moment. Life is a series of moments, and I'm afraid of looking back on my life and not appreciating what each moment had to offer.

The irony is that I've been an anxious insomniac with a knot-ridden back. Turning off my mind, relaxing, and floating downstream has been proving to be difficult for me as of late. And I think the source of this anxiety is the desire to push my life forward and achieve some long overdue goals. Maybe this is just imprinted in the human condition.

I can't speak for others, but I suppose I will always be trying to find balance between appreciating and supplicating.

Grin

Since I've been bitchy, I figured I'd share that I finally made the effort to make conversation with Cute Health Food Store Girl. We had some nerdy nutrition talk for about 45 seconds. Sadly, this is a milestone for me.

She's cute. She has a cute smile and a cute voice. She smiled at me. And she looks like she has soft skin. We're soo gonna run away together.

Well, I don't really want that, but it is nice to actually feel this way about a girl. It's been quite a while.

So, if I can use some advanced sleuthing skills to figure out her name (by, you know, asking her), I will actually not feel like a big wuss.

Ooh! And my best friend and I have decided we should go to a gay girl bar together. In spite of her confidence and charisma, girls turn her in an awkward pubescent boy too. We'll take turns taking initiative.

Yay for progress, even if it's in the form of baby steps.

Mini Rants

My moodiness is subsiding somewhat. But still...

I do not like the whole concept of there being a size 0. It sends a destructive messsage. The smallest size should be either a 1 or 2, depending on if the store goes by even or odd numbers. I'm no mathematician, but it should be a number that has a value to it.

I'm also tired of being around stereotypical female insecurity. Luckily I only get the occasional dose of it now. I know it's a part of being human, but it's been annoying me lately. Just, fucking stop comparing yourself to the people you think you Should be like! Stop acting how you think you Should act! Just be yourself. As much you can. Because we're all deriviative in some way anyways.

I finally realized that I do not always equate prettiness with beauty; in fact I mostly equate prettiness with boringness. (This, however, does not mean that I find ugliness attractive). This makes me even more picky. I'm picky about everything: who I spend my time with, what I eat, and now who I jones for.

Blah, I dunno why I've suddenly become so militant again. I need to chill.

Bitchiness Overload

My current emotional state embodies all of the worst in a stereotypical female: bitchy, spoiled, insecure, weak, reactive, etc. My stomach is growling on a timer, I want to make dark chocolate a food group, and I feel ready to verbally eviscerate the next person who even remotely tests my patience--regardless of if they mean well or not. And the next inanimate object that doesn't obey my will could stand to get bruised from my my arm violently introducing it to the floor.

This is not me. I am not usually like this. I do not like being this way; I like being calm and in control. I generally like to choose to be logical, even if I am angry. I've been told I can be even too logical at times. I would prefer this to being an emotional lava lamp. I guess I'm just going to have to work harder to be myself, or rather, how I perceive myself to be.

Carrying this mood around when you're looking for clothes isn't a good idea. It's sort of the opposite of shopping while you're famished. I kept walking around the store thinking of how much I hate straight people/gay men. I of course did not buy anything.

Shopping for clothes can feel like work: you have to find something you like, something that fits, and something that you can afford. I do think that finding an article of clothing that meets all these criteria is quite satisfying, but the work required to reach this state can be tedious. Especially if you're poor and picky like me.

Furthermore, I'm always playing this little tug 0' war in my head. I don't want to buy anything too irritatingly girly that makes me feel like I'm wearing some costume on my body. I'm a fan of combining lines and angles with curves as opposed to building a tower of frill that feels an unnatural growth.

On the same token, I've also evolved from having an adolescent, baggy, hoodie-centric sense of fashion. I may want to attack Ellen Page with my lips, but I certainly don't want to dress like Juno. So it's a balancing act, as usual.

I think I'm feeling disillusioned with being a [queer] woman at the moment. With all of the female-specific bullshit we have to do and put up with. I could make a list, but I don't think there's anything novel on it. I guess I just needed to bitch so I could get over it and move on.

Incongruous

I really miss KC and Elka all of a sudden. I got used to their absence, but I realized that the amount of gayness in my life has shrunken to an iota, and I will be an active participant in shrinking it further. And I don't mean sex wise. Maybe a part of me wanted it that way, but I feel like I'm neglecting that part of myself.

And all my bi friends, like me, are seeing men. Of course, you can be queer and straight. But, goddamnit, it'd be nice to have more gay friends. Perhaps when I have more time, I can work on this while trying to find a girlfriend.

I'm just going to forego manners for a moment and be bitchy and dramatic: straight people can be annoyingly boring and cliche. Their sense of beauty, fashion, roleplay, etc. gets on my nerves after a while. And they don't have to see how programmed they are because they have most of the power. I wish I could fully fit in that way.

I need to work up the courage to make conversation with Cute Health Foods Store Girl.

I need to get used to feeling incongruous.

The Best Policy

There is a lot of new and renewing love in my life right now. Several opposing parties are reconciling, my friends kick ass, and my boyfriend and I still don't really do things like watch movies because we're so into each other's lips. I'm really lucky to have all of this.

However, I feel conflicted between the desire to make other people happy/be what they want me to be and the desire to simply be myself. Lately, the former desire has felt right for the most part. I feel somewhat less militant about asserting who I perceive myself to be, and I'm happy to please those I care about. But I don't want to turn into a puppet.

I see myself first as a person, and I just happen to be in the body of a female. If one removed the (mostly socialized) pansy, girly behaviors, I could just as easily be the same person in a male's body. I would also still be bisexual. I think many people's identities are inextricably linked to their sex; I don't think I'm one of those people.

However, I never wanted to be a boy (although I think that aside from being expected to make more money and be emotionally sturdy, males have it easier). But I did not enjoy growing up being constantly compared to other girls and having all of the ways in which I don't measure up be shoved in my face. I have made significant strides in getting over all of that, but I suddenly remembered how that sentiment will always sting a little.

I have mostly accepted the fact that when you interact with others, you will rarely get the chance to be yourself 100% of the time. I'm not sure if this is good because it's practical or bad because I'm "selling out."

I also think I have accepted the fact that while being queer is more okay than it used to be, it will always be the minority. The subjective idea of beauty will mostly be in the hands of those who do not appreciate gray.

The desire to not feel conflicted with oneself and with society is a powerful motivator. People who do drastic things to their bodies (e.g. taking hormones and getting sex change surgeries) are really chasing after that sense of congruity and coherence that non-queers take for granted.

I'm glad I don't feel the need to do anything that drastic; I just need to regard compromise and the occasional lie means to a greater end.

Transitional Phase

I haven't been much of a blogger lately. My life has been becoming less about thinking/writing and more about doing. Furthermore, I think I've analyzed most of the queer-related topics that are of concern to me. And while I will always identify as a purse-hating gay girl who gets nervous around girls with mohawks who work at health food stores, I think I've entered a different phase:

I kinda hate The L Word.

I think Shane/Katherine Moennig is hot, but too skinny. And all that smoking is starting to catch up to her.

KC and Elka are...?

I'm in love with a boy.

Consequently, I will be blogging more here about whatever comes to mind.

Free Agent

Boy and I have been together for a little over five months now, and he only recently started to tell his [male] friends that I play for both teams. He didn't want to be that guy (even though he does have some of that stereotypical male in him). I find this endearing.

There are some advantages to dating a boy when you're bi:

1) You get advice on how to hit on/approach/move things forward with girls.
2) You get to objectify women together (I can be a bit bashful about this).
3) You are more likely to be allowed to chase girls. I wonder how many lesbians would be cool with letting their girlfriends pursue men.

However, you sorta become the bisexual female cliche. Meh, whatever.

In other odd news...

Boy: It may inform you to know that I touched pussy before I touched boobs.
Me: Huh? Really?
Boy: Yup.
Me: [Thinks about it]...That's weird!
Boy: Yeah, it kinda is.
Me: Pussy first? But everybody loves boobs! Cept gay men.
Boy: They're missing out.
Me: I still can't get over that. Boobs come first! They're boobs!

Later on...

Boy: [jokingly]I'm kinda like a lesbian trapped in a man's body.
Me: [laughs hard] How so?
Boy: I'm just all about the pussy. Even straight guys kinda like to look at cock in porn. I don't have that.
Me: You truly are 100% heterosexual. Most people have at least 1 or 2% gay in them.
Boy: Yeah, I guess I'm just stuck with using this dick here. Can't argue with nature.
Me: Sure you can.
Boy: What's the point? Gotta work with what you have.
Me: True. Well, I accept your trapped inner lesbian too.

Hmm, maybe I should make him a mix of Tegan and Sara, Le Tigre, and Riot Grrl music to welcome him to the club.

"And that's why ya don't kiss straight girls."

If only there was that one-armed guy from Arrested Development to teach me this lesson. For some reason, I didn't want to write about my first experience with a girl here. I figured it was a bit too complicated, and I didn't want to be a drama queen. But this is the place to write about complexities, and I'm over it now. So here goes.

As with any other remotely intelligible thing I write, the objective of this post is to 1) explore the grey areas of sexuality, 2) attempt to write about something complex and significant with a degree of objectivity, and 3) to question the actions of the involved parties.

My first experience with a girl didn't go over so well for either of us. It put a huge dent in a friendship that had a lot of potential.

Here's a cliche: the first girl I kissed was my best friend and roommate in college. We had a unique chemistry that is hard to explain. We were sorta opposites and sorta the same person all at the same time. We could make simple things like going grocery shopping feel like an amusing adventure. We could have satisfying intellectually conversations and be silly as hell. We could peacefully co-exist and still find the other person fun to be around.

Here's another cliche: we had a lot of great things in common (e.g. athleticism, a love for nerdy movies, etc). One of the not-so-great things we had in common was the fact that we both dabbled in the world obsessing over how much you weigh and eat. We both had issues prior to meeting each other, and when we started to bond over this perverted commonality, we fed into each other's unhealthiness.

Here's the last cliche: we were drunk during all of our little explorations of the XX + XX equation. I didn't take it so well when I discovered that her "solution" was straight and mine wasn't.

As a friend, I loved her lots. The option of seeing her as more than a friend didn't occur to me until we started drinking together and getting progressively more touchy feely as time went on. When the option did occur to me, I really wanted it and looked for opportunities to get drunk with her. What can I say? I was young and stupid.

When we finally just had a big makeout session like a year later, I had a big internal woohoo! moment. I was pretty ecstatic for a few days until I inferred that it was only a curious exploration to her, and she wasn't likely to return the feelings I had for her. It bummed me out, but I eventually came to accept that this would not happen again.

But then it did. With more intensity a few months later. I was high as a mothafucking kite until she flat out said that we won't be doing anything physical anymore. I completely sunk when I heard this.

To be fair, we didn't communicate very well. I didn't express how I felt to her. Even though she was more of the initiator, she didn't intend to lead me on and reject me (although it felt like it at the time). I made a point to keep my feelings hidden because I couldn't deal with them, I was afraid of putting myself out there, and I knew that she was probably straight.

On top of all this, I didn't yet realize that one reason why I developed an eating disorder in the first place was to avoid admitting to being a queer. So for me to fall first for a straight girl with an eating disorder hit several nerves I wasn't fully aware of. Furthermore, we were at different points in the "admitting you have a problem" department, and this created another rift between us.

I resented her for not returning my feelings and for encouraging my self-destruction. I also took a few slightly homophobic remarks she said to heart. She resented me for being cold and passive-aggressive.

We tried to patch things up before she would have to move across the country after graduating, but I could never bring myself to explicitly tell her all that was bothering me. I partly didn't see the point in telling a straight girl that I was in love with her. When she left, I was drenched in a bitter little cocktail composed of one part anger, one part loss, and one part vindictiveness.

There were many months of fights, passive-aggressiveness, and unfriendly silence. We missed each other, but we both let the negativity fester. We eventually de-briefed these confusing incidents a few years later. She said she didn't entirely know what brought them on. I told her that I felt like a used experiment to her.

She admitted to being a bit on the bi-curious side, but she said she didn't want to know what it was like to kiss a girl; she wanted to know what it was like to kiss me. And while she loved me, she wasn't attracted to me.

Guh? Okay, the only reason this makes the remotest of sense in my mind is because I know this girl and it kinda clicks in my head because I know the rapport we had. I am also generally accepting of the spectrum of emotions that can fuel the varying levels of affection we want to show.

I hate to cite this, but it sorta reminds me of Claire and Edie in Six Feet Under. I wasn't a fan of Mena Suvari playing that role, but it was a similar situation. The two had an aesthetic appreciation of the other as a person, but it wasn't sexual. And I have to say that my feelings for her weren't predominately sexual either, but I didn't want to be strictly platonic either. Yet another annoying gray area.

So she wanted to express her intense platonic love for me with her lips and wandering hands (she described it as "lusting after me emotionally/spiritually"). Again, this transubstantiation of sorts sorta makes sense and sorta doesn't. Regardless, I accepted what she said, and we moved on. We both felt refreshed and grudge-free. It was great.

But then she got pregnant shortly after getting married. It dawned on me that this person lives across the country from me, is married, and will become a mother. I didn't see myself fitting into the picture. Our long distance friendship was pretty unsatisfying, and I felt rather disconnected from the phase of life she was entering. I was so tired of missing her and being locked in an aggravating state of limbo.

Eventually, I picked a fight with her, went out of my way to push her buttons, and we exchanged some mean words. That was the last fight. For real. All of the nastiness made it easier to say goodbye and just let go. While I was mad for a while, I found it easier to free myself from feeling hostile towards her.

I occasionally wonder if I did the right thing or if I was drawing one too many imaginary lines in my head. Did I really have to see her pending motherhood as such a threat? Was I allowing my own personal issues with parenting to color my perspective? Could we have made a long distance friendship work somehow?

I don't know for sure. I do know that I feel better after emotionally separating myself from her. I'm pretty sure she feels the same way. Do I wish things had turned out differently? Definitely. But it was time to move on, and I realized that I was wasting emotional energy pining over re-creating "the good ol' days" with her.

But some people simply become a part of you, whether you want them to or not. I'm not sure how she and I managed to establish such an intense connection that is difficult to forget. When things were good, I loved how we seemed to really understand each other and tried to respect each other's differences. And we didn't completely give up on trying to work through our problems.

I may not talk to her anymore, and I am not likely to see her again, but she probably will always be someone that I think about and remember fondly.

So the lessons I learned from this experience are as follows:

1) Don't kiss straight girls unless you are confident that they are at least bisexual or that you have the great powers of converting.

2) Don't do the whole wahhh I don't wanna be gay so I'm gonna self-destruct and/or live in shameful denial bullshit. It's a big waste of time. Accept yourself as a freak like everyone else and move the fuck on.

3) Don't have an eating disorder. It's stupid. I'm proud to say that I'm done with all of that crap after many years of hard work.

4) Communicate with more directness and don't rely on booze.

5) If you are romantically/physically interested in a friend, you should give serious consideration to whether you are willing to risk losing that friendship for the sake of taking things to the next level. There are some people that you just don't want to lose.

Angry

I hate living in my body. I have spent a good portion of my life working my ass off to earn priviliges that almost everyone around me takes for granted. It feels like I'm always teetering between -1 and 0. Blah, forget about all of the gender dissociation bullshit. To me, all that stuff seems whiny and self-absorbed now.

Right now, I feel like the next person who complains to me about some superficial dissatisfaction with the skin they're in (looks, weight, cup size, muscle mass) is going to be verbally assualted.

Ironically, I have a healthy appreciation of my own aesthetics. If only being thin, curvy, and proportional solved all of your problems like all of those ads directly and indirectly say. I used to think my body didn't reflect who I am, but now I think the opposite.

But it's like living in a house built by Frank Lloyd Wright: it looks good, but it's a bitch to maintain and starts to fall apart sooner.

This week has ranged from awful crazy to awesome crazy. I'm so in love. I'm so trapped. I'm racking my brain trying to figure out solutions. I realized how awesome it is to know amazing people that I value and can call up for support, advice, laughs, hugs, etc. I need to appreciate what I have.

I am not my limitations though. I need to remember that. I am how I deal with them/what I learn from them. It's what you think and do that ultimately matters.

List

Physically, I have not been feeling well today. This past week has also presented its share of challenges. I'm trying to not feel discouraged and overwhelmed.

So, I want to make a list of things I'm pleased with:

The delicious avocado and 87% cocoa dark chocolate bar that I scarfed down today. Mmmm.

The laughs I had with my best friend today.

My growing culinary talents.

The interactions between various parts of my body and my boyfriend's mouth.

My boyfriend's willingness to patiently stick by me through a rough patch that affects us both.

The fact that I made a few cute girls laugh in the past week. This alone is gratifying even if nothing comes of it.

The fact that boy keeps a fresh stock of Listerine for me at his place.

The fact that KC and Elka still make me laugh out loud at jokes that I've already heard several times before.

Gulp

I've rather proudly held the title of Blowjob Queen for several years now. Most of my friends know this, and one of my ex's still manages to throw in the occasional joke about it from time to time. Every dude whose dick has been in my mouth has given me accolades on my performance, and this further reinforces the enjoyment I already derive from the act.

Furthermore, I'm quite lucky to be dating the most enthusiastic, persistent, and talented pussy munchers I have ever been with. He's even bossy about it: ohmigod, pleeaase stick that pussy in my face because I NEED it.

In many ways, this is a sexual match made in heaven. We both have strong oral fixations coupled with hard-earned talents. There's just one problem: he is more into imbibing female fluids than I am into male fluids. Considering my enthusiasm for cocksuckery, he finds this baffling; I find it normal.

I wish I felt the same way he does; I feel guilty that I don't. And I don't know how to fake it. Dan Savage would probably scold me. I'm all about being GGG, and I've done things out of my comfort zone. But I'm not sure what to do about this one.

The only explanation I have is the fact I was randomly exposed to porn at a relatively young age (10, 11'ish). I've probably seen a bit too much male-oriented stuff, and I think seeing one too many messy endings with the girl obviously pretending to be into it created a turn-off. If porn creates and reinforces turn-on's, then it can do the same for turn-off's.

Or is this just the lesbian in me drawing the line? Perhaps that's too convenient of an excuse for someone with a dual identity. I don't know. Either way, some compromises are in order.

Bitchy

I had some issues with the whole idea of a threesome that I discussed with boyfriend. I kind of let the bitchy lesbian in me come out for a few minutes. I voiced how I'm not terribly into the idea of being with a girl as means to the end of turning on a guy.

Like, lesbians exist for pleasing each other. It's sort of an anti-cock act (at least in my mind), and having it be something to do for a guy's pleasure just screams cock always wins in the end to me.

His response was that this goal is most certainly not all about him, and he was aiming for everyone to benefit (both emotionally and physically) from this situation. He had stated all of this to me before, and he is quite the reciprocal, talented, patient, and orally-fixated lover (I really hit the jackpot in this department). But I still had to let the raging dyke in me say her piece. And I feel better.

On a related note, I tried to use youtube for scratching my itch for Xena. I figured it was easier and more dignified than digging out my tapes from, er, 10 years ago. And most of the results are of Xena and Gabrielle kissing.

Of course. The truth is that both characters were bisexual. And they actually did shit besides each other. Like unrealistically kick a profuse amount of ass and change history while prancing around in skimpy outfits. Jeez. What a buncha perverts.

In my experience, straightness generally does win in the end. Deep down, this still hurts a soft spot in me. Ironically, however, my own actions prove this point: I'm in a heterosexual relationship, and I'm generally happier when I'm into guys and more in touch with my feminine side. If you can't beat em', join em'? Does it have to be a competition?

But I find my own hypocrisy bothersome on some level. Consequently, I find little ways to blow off steam about it (e.g. stating how icky I find purses to be, recoiling at being described as "straight," etc.)

I can't say I feel distressed or divided about this as much as I used to though. Partly because I have more pressing things to be concerned with. And few people are one-sided and free of contradictions. And the people who are could probably best be described as "boring." So I'm happy to ride this dichotomy for as long as it wants.

Disappearing Act

I've been having Xena cravings lately. I keep trying to deny them, but they won't go away. She's so strong, and watching her is regressively theraputic and inspiring. It appeals to the archetypical desire for a hero one can identify with.

I want to be stronger than I am. Mentally more so than physically (although it's kind of sad that I need boyfriend to open cans for me). I'm realizing that, while I have come so far in building up psychological strength, I still have so much more growing that I want and simply need to do. I need to internally subert all external attempts to make me an unhappy, brainwashed pawn. I need to develop more constructive thinking patterns.

I feel like I'm disappearing both physically and mentally. I spend too much time catering to others. I'm tired of having other people's voices in my head telling me what to do, what to like, and how to present myself. I just want to relax and be without worrying about keeping up appearances for some other trying to use me for something.

I also found out that I weigh the least I have ever weighed as an adult. I didn't even notice until the numbers made it undeniably clear. I guess life has been too consuming for me to tune into such a drastic change in my own place of residence.

Something's gotta give. I'm the only one who can make it happen. I may never be able to go through life without being punished for everything, and I may not have much time for all the things I want to do. But I'll be damned if I let this crap make me mentally stagnate into a reactionary victim.