
Saturday, June 26, 2010
Happy Pride!
Happy Pride to those who accept that sometimes being happy is better than being completely accepted by the average joe. Keep on keepin' on...

You give me the electric twist and it kicks like a pony...
This weekend is NYC Pride. Pretty exciting-eh? In light of the many many drunken women I will meet, the many many drunken exes I will surely encounter (Curly included) and the many many drunken friends I will take care of, I have decided to make a short list of the most important survival skills for Pride:
1) In case you spot your ex, make sure you are surrounded by your most beautiful friends. If your ex was your most beautiful friend, surround yourself with ugly people so you can look the hottest possible.
2) When a friend decides to make out with you and you don't want to, quickly shout "Tequila shots!" Tequila and lesbians go hand in hand.
3) When a friend decides to make with you and want to, don't even think about this post, just do it.
4) While at the Pride parade, do not, even though it seems cute and funny to joke about, take free condoms from people passing them out. It's awkward and confusing for those of us lesbians that don't know what condoms are.
5) And most importantly, do not try and crash a gay male party. Stick to the lesbians- because isn't the entire point of pride to "bond" with other women...a.k.a. get as many phone numbers and meet as many hot strangers as possible?
Until the drama continues...
1) In case you spot your ex, make sure you are surrounded by your most beautiful friends. If your ex was your most beautiful friend, surround yourself with ugly people so you can look the hottest possible.
2) When a friend decides to make out with you and you don't want to, quickly shout "Tequila shots!" Tequila and lesbians go hand in hand.
3) When a friend decides to make with you and want to, don't even think about this post, just do it.
4) While at the Pride parade, do not, even though it seems cute and funny to joke about, take free condoms from people passing them out. It's awkward and confusing for those of us lesbians that don't know what condoms are.
5) And most importantly, do not try and crash a gay male party. Stick to the lesbians- because isn't the entire point of pride to "bond" with other women...a.k.a. get as many phone numbers and meet as many hot strangers as possible?
Until the drama continues...
Saturday, June 19, 2010
I don't believe in anything but myself...
On a completely unrelated note, sometimes it is nice to see lesbian role models and strong women in magazines. Imagine my surprise when I find one of my acquaintances/role models/chatting buddy in Go Magazines 100 Women We Love Class of 2010. Enjoy the inspiration, ladies:
http://www.gomag.com/article/100_women_we_love_class_o2/
Yay for strong women!
http://www.gomag.com/article/100_women_we_love_class_o2/
Yay for strong women!
Let's get physical, physical...
On a whim the other morning, I decided to precede my shower with crunches, weight lifting and push-ups. I noticed I was getting a little tired after lugging boxes and heavy items around my office, and it upset me.
The final count? 10 reps of 6 different arm exercises, and 30 crunches.
30? Ugh.
I've never been a huge exerciser. I love running and I walk everywhere (which comes with the territory of being a New Yorker.) Other than that, actual working out bothers me. I'd rather play a rough game of soccer or play catch.
The final count of 30 really bothered me. I started to count how many of my lesbian friends actually work out. Pretty much everyone. When I thought about it, only one out of the five most recent people I've hooked up with did not have some kind of ab-like definition. I started to worry, because I'm definitely a softer lesbian. I like my curves, and as Ginger told me the one time we slept together "You have such a beautiful body." Whether that was a line, the fact that she was drunk, or maybe even the truth, I don't know. What I do know is that the number 30 is really starting to bother me.
Mission: incorporate more ab-work into my daily regimen, whether it be sitting up straighter, side bends during work, that awkward sit in the chair and hold your knees up at work, or go to the gym with a co-worker- I'm going to do it. This way, the next time someone calls my body beautiful, I'll actually believe it.
Let me clarify though- I in no way dislike my body/think I am fat/will develop some kind of eating disorder- it's just the vanity of the New York lesbian scene that worries me. I want someone to love me for me, but when it comes down to it- I want my one-night stand to remember me fondly as this "hot-chick I once banged."
Question: When it comes down to it, we all fall in love with the person, not the body, but to sleep with someone, we all want to be with the hottie potottie with the six-pack and the glutes of glory. But isn't being gay about loving ourselves and others for who we are? Are we turning into obnoxious gym-obsessed 23 year old boys looking for a hot-piece? Are there enough lesbians in NYC that we can actually start to be incredibly picky with who we are dating?
Time to start my crunches...
Until the drama continues...
The final count? 10 reps of 6 different arm exercises, and 30 crunches.
30? Ugh.
I've never been a huge exerciser. I love running and I walk everywhere (which comes with the territory of being a New Yorker.) Other than that, actual working out bothers me. I'd rather play a rough game of soccer or play catch.
The final count of 30 really bothered me. I started to count how many of my lesbian friends actually work out. Pretty much everyone. When I thought about it, only one out of the five most recent people I've hooked up with did not have some kind of ab-like definition. I started to worry, because I'm definitely a softer lesbian. I like my curves, and as Ginger told me the one time we slept together "You have such a beautiful body." Whether that was a line, the fact that she was drunk, or maybe even the truth, I don't know. What I do know is that the number 30 is really starting to bother me.
Mission: incorporate more ab-work into my daily regimen, whether it be sitting up straighter, side bends during work, that awkward sit in the chair and hold your knees up at work, or go to the gym with a co-worker- I'm going to do it. This way, the next time someone calls my body beautiful, I'll actually believe it.
Let me clarify though- I in no way dislike my body/think I am fat/will develop some kind of eating disorder- it's just the vanity of the New York lesbian scene that worries me. I want someone to love me for me, but when it comes down to it- I want my one-night stand to remember me fondly as this "hot-chick I once banged."
Question: When it comes down to it, we all fall in love with the person, not the body, but to sleep with someone, we all want to be with the hottie potottie with the six-pack and the glutes of glory. But isn't being gay about loving ourselves and others for who we are? Are we turning into obnoxious gym-obsessed 23 year old boys looking for a hot-piece? Are there enough lesbians in NYC that we can actually start to be incredibly picky with who we are dating?
Time to start my crunches...
Until the drama continues...
Monday, June 14, 2010
I'm coming out, I want the world to know...
Or maybe not.
This weekend was Brooklyn Pride. Went out with friends and the whole evening started innocently enough. I was excited because I was to be hanging out with a good friend, Gay Goddess, who incidentally is the reason I know I am gay. Nothing has ever happened with her, but after the large amounts of alcohol ingested by me, SuperGay, Ginger, and PopStar, I was fearless...
and blacked out.
I awoke the next morning to find my phone littered with messages mysteriously sent by me. Most too incoherent to understand, but about fifteen texts were sent to Gay Goddess. All said "Come to my house" or some variation of "You're beautiful. I love you." Most of the texts were spelled very creatively and several had extra punctuation or no punctuation or spaces at all.
Granted, this is not the first time I have drunkenly professed my love for someone, yet for some reason, my secret crush I have been harboring for four years is all of the sudden known. It takes away the mystery and allure of Gay Goddess...all of the sudden, she knows.
I guess my question is this: We all do stupid things when drunk, but should we ever regret them? As long as they don't hurt anyone, is there really a reason to stress out about it?
Just breathe...remember to breathe. Gay Goddess apparently found the texts incoherently flattering...
Until the drama continues...
This weekend was Brooklyn Pride. Went out with friends and the whole evening started innocently enough. I was excited because I was to be hanging out with a good friend, Gay Goddess, who incidentally is the reason I know I am gay. Nothing has ever happened with her, but after the large amounts of alcohol ingested by me, SuperGay, Ginger, and PopStar, I was fearless...
and blacked out.
I awoke the next morning to find my phone littered with messages mysteriously sent by me. Most too incoherent to understand, but about fifteen texts were sent to Gay Goddess. All said "Come to my house" or some variation of "You're beautiful. I love you." Most of the texts were spelled very creatively and several had extra punctuation or no punctuation or spaces at all.
Granted, this is not the first time I have drunkenly professed my love for someone, yet for some reason, my secret crush I have been harboring for four years is all of the sudden known. It takes away the mystery and allure of Gay Goddess...all of the sudden, she knows.
I guess my question is this: We all do stupid things when drunk, but should we ever regret them? As long as they don't hurt anyone, is there really a reason to stress out about it?
Just breathe...remember to breathe. Gay Goddess apparently found the texts incoherently flattering...
Until the drama continues...
Monday, June 7, 2010
I know how you feel, no secrets to reveal...
So The Waitress and I had a fabulous first date, until I took her to a party with me after the lovely dinner, walk in the park combination.
She came along with me to a friend's party. Everyone was extremely intoxicated, and my own drunkenness hit me pretty quickly. I panicked and worried because first impressions count. Surprisingly enough, despite my sloppiness she asked me out again for yesterday evening.
I was a little shocked, because I would have written someone off if they were that drunk in front of me on a first date. Granted, I would be considered a huge hypocrite, but still.
The question is: How forgiving should one be of another's behavior on the first date?
Another instance, same night: I drunk texted a gal, The Musician, I have a date with on Wednesday to say happy birthday- four times. Each time I said "Just wanted to wish you a happy birthday" or "Did I say happy birthday yet?" "Happy Birthday!" I apologized in the morning, and she laughed and said it was ok. I was slightly taken aback by The Musician's forgiveness. Have we really come so far that we give people second chances before ever meeting them?
Until the drama continues...
She came along with me to a friend's party. Everyone was extremely intoxicated, and my own drunkenness hit me pretty quickly. I panicked and worried because first impressions count. Surprisingly enough, despite my sloppiness she asked me out again for yesterday evening.
I was a little shocked, because I would have written someone off if they were that drunk in front of me on a first date. Granted, I would be considered a huge hypocrite, but still.
The question is: How forgiving should one be of another's behavior on the first date?
Another instance, same night: I drunk texted a gal, The Musician, I have a date with on Wednesday to say happy birthday- four times. Each time I said "Just wanted to wish you a happy birthday" or "Did I say happy birthday yet?" "Happy Birthday!" I apologized in the morning, and she laughed and said it was ok. I was slightly taken aback by The Musician's forgiveness. Have we really come so far that we give people second chances before ever meeting them?
Until the drama continues...
Thursday, June 3, 2010
But the queen's just a pawn with a bunch of fancy moves...
Despite my ever-ceasing love for Curly, I know I must at least attempt to move on with life and play the field. Mission: Prep-time End Result: Hot Date.
Tomorrow night I have a date with a new chick, The Waitress. We met on a dating website, an experiment of mine- to see if all women on websites are desperate for love or just trying to enter a new technological age. Up until now, I've come to the conclusion that they are all mostly desperate to meet people outside of their own social circles. The Waitress and I have been chatting via text for a while now and finally the stars aligned for us to have a date.
On the eve of my date, I have had ample time to prep. I've studied her pictures so I will be able to recognize her when I show up to the restaurant and not do that awkward dance around people. I've nervously smoked a cigarette (Curly would yell at me if she knew- as would all my friends) and I've had a beer to bring myself down from the tobacco high (yes- I still get high off of tobacco,) and I've mentally planned my outfit for tomorrow evening. Granted I am planning for both a date and a post date party with a ton of friends so I need to plan accordingly, but I think the clothing choice is a good one.
Tomorrow will include shaving, shower, depending on the weather- how I wear my hair. I realize it all sounds incredibly superficial, but hey, first impressions count.
I still can't decide if I am excited about said date. The Waitress is nice, but will she challenge me intellectually? I'm not sure. It sounds incredibly snobby, but I do have high standards. A girl must be cute (preferably blonde with curly hair), sarcastic, able to keep up with me in conversation and above all else- never use shortcuts when texting or e-mailing. I abhorr the use of "u" and "ur" and especially any kind of abbreviations like "lmao" or "lol." Emoticons are ok as long as they aren't littered within the texts you send me.
So far, The Waitress has struck out on the last one. I'm hoping the girl can prove to me she's more than just a funny girl. We'll see how it goes.
I think my biggest question is, should lesbians have pre-date rituals? Aren't we all about being ourselves and saying "screw you" to anyone who doesn't like us?
The girl in me (who comes out every so often- no pun intended) is all atwitter with the idea of having a date, but the sane person in me (sorry ladies- but let's face it- we're crazy) says be yourself and have fun, it's not a marriage proposal, it's just a meeting of two people who chat every so often.
Breathe. Just remember to breathe and not take yourself too seriously.
Until the drama continues...
Tomorrow night I have a date with a new chick, The Waitress. We met on a dating website, an experiment of mine- to see if all women on websites are desperate for love or just trying to enter a new technological age. Up until now, I've come to the conclusion that they are all mostly desperate to meet people outside of their own social circles. The Waitress and I have been chatting via text for a while now and finally the stars aligned for us to have a date.
On the eve of my date, I have had ample time to prep. I've studied her pictures so I will be able to recognize her when I show up to the restaurant and not do that awkward dance around people. I've nervously smoked a cigarette (Curly would yell at me if she knew- as would all my friends) and I've had a beer to bring myself down from the tobacco high (yes- I still get high off of tobacco,) and I've mentally planned my outfit for tomorrow evening. Granted I am planning for both a date and a post date party with a ton of friends so I need to plan accordingly, but I think the clothing choice is a good one.
Tomorrow will include shaving, shower, depending on the weather- how I wear my hair. I realize it all sounds incredibly superficial, but hey, first impressions count.
I still can't decide if I am excited about said date. The Waitress is nice, but will she challenge me intellectually? I'm not sure. It sounds incredibly snobby, but I do have high standards. A girl must be cute (preferably blonde with curly hair), sarcastic, able to keep up with me in conversation and above all else- never use shortcuts when texting or e-mailing. I abhorr the use of "u" and "ur" and especially any kind of abbreviations like "lmao" or "lol." Emoticons are ok as long as they aren't littered within the texts you send me.
So far, The Waitress has struck out on the last one. I'm hoping the girl can prove to me she's more than just a funny girl. We'll see how it goes.
I think my biggest question is, should lesbians have pre-date rituals? Aren't we all about being ourselves and saying "screw you" to anyone who doesn't like us?
The girl in me (who comes out every so often- no pun intended) is all atwitter with the idea of having a date, but the sane person in me (sorry ladies- but let's face it- we're crazy) says be yourself and have fun, it's not a marriage proposal, it's just a meeting of two people who chat every so often.
Breathe. Just remember to breathe and not take yourself too seriously.
Until the drama continues...
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
When I see you walking with her, I have to cover my eyes...
After a year of lovey-dovey, mushy-gushy love, my past few months are spent by myself.
Let's recap- shall we?
I met the ex, we'll call her Curly, through a friend a couple years ago. We didn't start dating until a year later, but the moment we met, I felt an instant connection. Despite the high drama and intenseness of lesbian relationships, we worked and we were in love. Time went by and eventually we fell apart. I still find myself missing her six months later, but time has told me to move on.
Over the past few months, I've cried, healed, smiled, cried, smiled to cover pain, dated, rejected (several times to the same people,) been rejected (once each time, because I can take a hint,) and come to the realization that I am not ready to fall into a relationship again so quickly.
After being fine for months, for the past two weeks, I've been filled with memories and pained by the loss of Curly. She and I had an unbreakable bond that will last forever, so it's difficult to say goodbye.
Coincidentally, when I started to feel better about everything a few days ago, Curly texted me asking if we could get a drink. I weakly responded "yes" and braced myself for an awkward evening. We started out fine, laughing, talking, reminiscing. She then informed me she was miserable, doing stupid things, dating someone 25 years older than she and started crying, as she was being treated horribly by this woman. She apologized for treating me badly at the end of our relationship and told me she felt like she deserved to be really low for a while. I held her, told her it would be okay and I will always be there for her because deep down, I always will care and want to be there for her.
There isn't much I can do for Curly and it's killing me. I can tell her I only want good things for her and that she deserves nothing but the best, which I really believe to be true. But until she believes it herself, there isn't a thing I can do for her.
My question is simple: When you break up, friends say there is nothing you can do for the ex because he/she is not your problem any more. However, when you care about someone and want them in your life no matter what, aren't you supposed to try to help? Don't friends help friends? Why should it be any different if you dated the person? Do you draw the line when you still have feelings for the other person? No, she is not my responsibility, but neither are my friends, yet I go out of the way to help them. I don't get the whole double-standard thing. Will someone explain this to me?
As a lesbian, I'm accustomed to drama within my relationships, friendships, hook-ups, and even acquaintances. I can only laugh now that I am started to dive into the dating world again, because as I told a friend, within the past couple of weeks I've realized my life should be filmed and be made into a horrible lesbian reality TV show. However, as the world of technology and over-exposed lives progresses, I'm seeking a more anonymous way of sharing my story. Because isn't that what we all really want? Well-known anonymity?
Until the drama continues...
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