A very good friend of mine sent this to me from the East Coast and it was so sweet I had to put it up. Thanks J.L. xoxo

But reading it in black and white I can see her point. Two or three times a week?!!! That just can’t be accurate! And if it is, it’s about to change.

I guess I’ve been letting stress, work and lack of sleep get in the way of what’s really important: fucking my girlfriend.

What was I thinking?! Work, schmerk. She’s leaving soon … she got reactivated and is headed off to Iraq or Afghanistan next month. I should be doing my duty as an American by making her scream my name every single night.

No more excuses. It’s my birthday today, so it’s the perfect time to make some new goals. When I blow out the candles on my cake today, you can be sure of what I’ll be asking for.

As soon as I pulled away from her, she hit me upside the head with this remark, “Considering all the stories I’ve heard about you, from before I got with you, you’re surprisingly not what I expected.”

The next sound I heard was my relationship coming to screeching halt…. Wait. What the hell does that mean?

“Please explain yourself.” I said with as much calmness I could muster over the defensive tide that was quickly bubbling to the surface.

“Well, I mean I’ve read all your old blogs….” She explained.

And ???? …. I didn’t actually have to voice that, she got it from the look on my face so she continued.

Pausing here and there trying to carefully weigh her words, “I just mean you seemed so sexual in your blog. When I first met you, you seemed SO overtly sexual. But now, with me … you’re just not.”

Wow.

Ouch.

Great.

Nothing like not living up to your own hype! Holy crapola. I knew my blog would come back and bite me, but I had no idea it would bite this hard.

I didn’t really have that much to say. Was she blaming me for our less then XXX evening? Couldn’t she understand that I was in a lot of pain, sleep deprived and starving? Ok, not starving since I scarfed down some Taco Bell right before this revelation. But still.

I had been in other relationships where sex was expected on every date. I was fine with that. I was better then fine. I was great with that!

But these women were not my girlfriends (yes, I’m aware how bad that sounds) and I didn’t see them as often as I see my girl. I see her almost every other day, if not every day. These other pseudo-relationships were hot and heavy sure, but it’s easy to put on your porn star persona once or twice a week. But every night, after a long hard day? Maybe every night just isn’t going to measure up to that level of mind-blowing, acrobatic, screaming at the top of your lungs till the cops come knocking, kind of sex.

Another factor I felt she hadn’t given enough credit to, for our lack of sexual Olympics, was the lack of privacy we have. We are both in room-mate hell right now, which lends itself to a lot of public sex. (Which call me crazy, can be pretty hot and always is.)

So after a night of sleeping on this problem that I didn’t even know we had and on my sore ribs, I woke up nauseous and for the first time in our relationship, feeling claustrophobic. A feeling I was all too used to from past dating experiences. But I thought this one was different.

I had decided before I even opened my eyes that morning that I wasn’t going to talk to her that day. That I needed “space.”

But after several apologetic texts, I gave in and spoke to her. But to my surprise, hearing her voice only made me feel worse. So I cut it short.

She met me at my gym before my Muay Thai kickboxing class bearing little presents she knew would go a long way in melting the ice. But I had to get to class before she had enough time to really make any dent in my bad mood.

It wasn’t until after 2 hours of fight classes that I felt better. I guess I just needed to hit something to clear my head. But as soon as I got out of the gym, we talked … and talked … and true to lesbian relationships, talked some more. Ugh.

Eventually it came out that:

She wasn’t complaining about my sexual prowess. But was insecure about hers due to things she had read on this crazy website called cardcarryinglesbian.com.

Whew! Thank god, my reputation was still in tact.

But really, what we finally realized was that every time we do have sex it’s always amazing. When I say amazing, I mean, fucking hot! Up against my car on the street. In my backseat. In her front seat. Up against her car in the middle of the night in Long Beach. Outside at a park. The beach. Life guard towers. While we’re driving home after a club …. the list of public and inappropriate places goes on and on.

So maybe we only have sex 2 or 3 times a week. But when we do, it’s ridiculously good.

What exactly was her point that night? We discussed that and decided it was just her night to be an ass. Everyone gets at least one free pass.

She apologized. I accepted.

So, now we’re off to have sex in a dark corner of GirlBar to celebrate my birthday today!!!

Last night my gorgeous friend Nica invited me out to a lovely dinner where the wine was almost as good as my view. As soon as we were seated and Nica removed her coat, my eyes were met with Nica’s perfect breasts busting out of her very low cut blouse. Apparently the girls needed breathing room and a little fabric wasn’t going to hold them back!

I settled into my seat, took a drink of wine and reminded myself that I am happily ensconced in a very healthy and happy relationship. “Be good Sasha,” was a little mantra that kept running through my head all night. Even though I’m spoken for, a sexy woman is always a welcomed sight.

After some small talk and catching up, the conversation quickly turned to porn. Much to the amusement of the entire wait staff that couldn’t have been more helpful and maybe a little bit to the shock of a lady sitting within ear shot. At one point a fragment of our conversation that entailed talk about anal sex, Masters and threesomes must have floated across to the next table because I heard an audible gasp from the lady next to me.

Nothing like a little shock value to help you digest your food.

It’s weird being out with a gorgeous friend who at one point in the not so distant past I almost dated! But now that I’m in a relationship we’re stuck in this weird limbo where flirting that used to be so natural between the two of us is now carefully edited, but still slips out every once in a while. Then immediately met with eye contact where we’re both searching each other’s face to see if that invisible line in the sand was crossed and if anyone is feeling uncomfortable. Ready to gracefully retreat and act as if nothing ever happened … after all nothing did. Words are just words until someone makes a move. Right?

Dinner with a gorgeous, brilliant porn star who also happens to be a dear dear friend? Priceless.

God I love my life.

I would think that if there was going to be a gym full of lesbians, it would be at a fight gym. But no. From what I can tell there’s only two and half of us. Myself, another girl who’s actually so good she’s gone pro now and a third girl that I’m pretty damn sure is family but I haven’t been able to get it out of her yet.

But everything about her sets off my gaydar from her board shorts to her multiple tattoos to the way she talks. But if she’s not ready to come out of the supply closet who am I to push?

Oh wait, there’s one more. My friend Nica who’s bi. But she’s not even totally on our team! We have to share her with the boys. Ugh.

Back to my original question. Is it just me or shouldn’t there be more lesbians at my gym? Don’t get me wrong, I’m not complaining about all the pretty straight girls running around all hot and sweaty. But it would just be nice to see our superior athletic ability at all things manly better showcased.

I say that if there’s any sport that lesbians would dominate, it would be MMA. Forget golf, my friends. That’s so ‘07 and Dinah Shore only happens once a year. But kicking ass never goes out of style.

We stumbled in there one night after trying to have a normal evening on Pier Street. But after getting tired of being stared at by drunk surfer boys and hit on by forty year old men, we left in search of a more gay friendly atmosphere. Enter the Dolphin. The only gay bar in the South Bay. If you’re not up for driving to Long Beach or West Hollywood, this is the best you’re going to do.

The moment we walked in we were greeted by flaming gay boys, a tranny named Diana and a hot bisexual bartender. The drinks are cheap, the atmosphere about as gay as it gets and no body cares if I make out with my girlfriend in the corner. It’s a safe refuge for us homos stuck in the middle of upper middle class white America … aka … the beach cities. Add to the list the fact that it’s walking distance from my gf’s house and you can pretty much guess that we quickly became regulars, on a first name basis with all the bartenders.

Last night I needed to discuss something with my girl that I knew, sober I would never get out all of the details. So we headed over to the Dolphin on a Monday night (yes I am aware that getting drunk on a Monday night is a sign that I may need a 12 step program) with the intention of getting slightly hammered, spilling my guts and then apparently, pissing my girlfriend off to no end. All of which I accomplished in record time. Thank you very much!

After telling her the sordid details of what I had to tell her (and no, that is not for public consumption) she was understandably irate. Her word not mine. But eventually with enough batting of the eyelashes, and some angry make-out time … you know, when you grab her by the hair and kiss her as hard as you can, hoping she’ll feel what you can’t say. Whether it’s anger or sorrow, some times that’s the only way to get the point across … but I guess it worked because she started to calm down, when a man walked up to us, cleared his throat (mind you, I’m in the middle of kissing my gf in an empty gay bar) waited for us to stop, look up at him with stunned expressions that any idiot could have read said, “What the hell is wrong with you?”

But instead of reading the signals he proceeded to introduce himself to us and then hit on us. WTF?

A few minutes later I realized that two other men at the bar were staring at us. I didn’t give it too much thought after all, this is a GAY bar. These men are probably GAY.

But moments later we were surrounded by them. Three, drunk, horny, straight men hitting on two lesbians in a GAY establishment. It’s not really hard to know it’s a gay bar, the huge rainbow flag that hits you in the face as you walk in is usually a good sign. Not to mention the clientèle is a nice mix of uber gay men, butch women and trannies.

Let me wrap this up. One guy was a dentist and he left after he realized that: 1. We really were lesbians and he wasn’t going to get anywhere. 2. That the hot bi bartender wasn’t working that night and 3. That he wasn’t going to be getting any from any one there that night unless he switched teams.

One down. Two to go.

Which left one harmless older man who kept wanting to buy us drinks and give me his credit cards. And a super creepy ass hole that kept trying to feel me up, put his hand up my shirt and even tried to kiss me when my gf was out of the room. Oh yea, he also challenged her to a fight right there in front of all of us. Again I say, “WTF?!”

I got tired of being hit on by him so I excused myself to go play with the jukebox. It wasn’t too long after that, the creepy molester dude slithered out of there without so much as a glance my way. I didn’t think much of it till later I found out that when I had left the room, my super cool gf told him that if he touched me one more time she was going to have to kick his ass.

Hahahahaha!!!!!!!! How hot is that?! The really hot part is that however she said it, he took her seriously and made a quick exit with his tail between his legs. Afraid of getting his ass handed to him by girl. As he should be.

My question is this: Did these guys really not know this was a gay bar? Were they really secretly gay but afraid to admit it? Did they really think they had a snowball’s chance in hell at sleeping with two lesbians?

Whatever. I don’t care. I just know that we go to the Dolphin to escape the attention of the straight world and to feel comfortable and safe to be as dykey as we want to be. We never expected to be surrounded by a pack of horny (questionably) straight men, grabbing my ass all night long.

So straight men, if you’re reading this and I know a few of you do. (It’s ok I won’t tell) It’s fine if you go to a gay club. We don’t mind. But don’t hit on lesbians. It’s bad manners.

How can Mr. be mad at me when the whole time we were “dating” I wanted to be with her but she didn’t want a real relationship?! Yet now that I’m with someone else, she’s on her high horse looking down at me saying that I hurt her! Wait. What?

How could she be hurt when she told me repeatedly that she didn’t want anything more than friends with naked benefits? I can’t tell you how many times I was at her beck and call. For months, when this woman asked me to come over, I would drop everything and show up on her doorstep just happy to spend time with her doing nothing. Of course we both new that the night would inevitably end in bed.

Yet no matter how good the sex was, it was just sex and we both knew it. I tiptoed around conversations that had anything remotely to do with feelings or our pseudo-relationship. Knowing full well that she would either shut me down completely, making me feel like a needy wanna-be-girlfriend (which I was not) or she would say something so astoundingly hurtful that I would feel as if I had just been punched in the gut.

I remember telling her one time, “You probably won’t appreciate me until I’m gone.”

To which she responded in a flat, monotone voice, “What makes you think I’ll appreciate you then?”

Ouch.

In that moment I knew it was never EVER going anywhere. But I still stayed.

Why you might ask? Well for one thing I still fucking cared about her whether she cared or not. I was still madly attracted her. The sex was awesome. We had fun together … when we weren’t fighting. I was attached to her, despite all my best efforts not to be. So I stayed.

But a girl can only take so much.

So now I’m with a girl that doesn’t say hurtful things. She doesn’t play mind games. A girl who’s actions belie her words. Imagine that!

But in moving on I hurt Mr. Which even after all that’s happened between us, I never wanted to do. I still care about her and hate that she thinks I would do something with the intention of causing her pain. I would never and I’m sorry that is has.

I’ve heard of lesbians remaining friends with their ex’s … I hope it’s not just an urban legend.

It’s so new I can still freak myself out if I think about it too much. How in the world did two commitment phobic flirts decide to make a go of it, forsaking all other nookie in the name of a monogamous relationship?! Yikes. All other nookie? Yep … wow … look at me, being a grown up.

So wish me and my new girlfriend luck … I think we actually need it. (Hehehe, “My girlfriend” …. that sounds weird coming out of my mouth. I feel like I’m in junior high school all over again, but without the bad perm and sexual identity crisis.)

We need your help to put a face on the lives of those that this proposition affects!! Help us to ‘get visible’ and let our presence as upstanding citizens of this world be seen by all. We need to raise awareness amongst all citizens of the good State of California of the need to stand up for equal rights by vowing to Vote NO on Prop 8 on the up and coming Election Day, November 4, 2008. We call all who support equality and fairness to help us “Personalize Prop 8 across the State!”

You can join us in taking action every weekend (Saturday and Sunday) from now until Election Day on November 4th, to “get out and about” in your community!

The idea behind this LGBT Community Call to Action is to put a familiar face on the LGBT community and give those in the heterosexual community a chance to interact in daily life with those that the measure would directly affect.

Here are Some Ideas for What to Do Over the Weekends :

• The number one recommended way to become more visible on your community is to visit your local McDonald’s one day each weekend until Election Day, November 4th. McDonald’s is a highly recognized and popular business that is located in most communities across the state, country, and planet! Many locations offer a McDonald’s Play Land if you have children, plus you can find many choices on their menu to fit your lifestyle and budget. McDonald’s is a corporation who has recently shown their support to the LGBT community by joining the NGLCC. Visiting your local McDonald’s over the weekend is a great way to get highly visible in your community, and is one way that we can show support for a corporation that supports our community!

• The next way you can become more visible in the fight against Prop 8 is to get out and about in other ways such as attending birthday parties and weddings, going to the mall or movies, taking your laundry to the laundry mat, walking your pets, grocery shopping, or take your kids to the park. Visit straight friends and family members and tell them why you are making it a point to get out and about, and let them know how important their vote is to you this Election Day. You could even just drive, ride your bike, roller skate, or just go for a walk around your neighborhood!

• Take it to the next level! Purchase “No on Prop 8” tools and merchandise to wear while you are out and about in the community or hanging out at McDonald’s. You can put a bumper sticker on your car (or window decal), wear a No on Prop 8 t-shirt (men’s here and women’s here), or a No on Prop 8 button.

• Want to take it even further? Report your experience from the weekend or your visit to McDonald’s on social news websites like iReport or on your personal blog! Download the NO on 8 ToolKit here for good examples.

Even if you don’t live in California or are not a member of the LGBT community, you can still help in the fight to strike down Proposition 8 on Election Day!

You don’t have to be married or planning to get married to vote for freedom, equality, and fairness for all by voting NO on Proposition 8. Everyone can and should support equality for all in any way that they can… it could be your rights that are up for debate one day! We are all in this together.

Here Are the Ways That You Can Help:

• In California – Visit your local McDonald’s to show your support for our efforts every weekend until Election Day. You can let us know about your pledge to Vote No on Prop 8 by utilizing the tools mentioned above, and/or reporting your experience on iReport or on your personal blog. Above all else make sure that you register to vote and Vote NO on Proposition 8 on Election Day, November 4th.

• Around the World - Voice your opinion about gay rights and let’s open up the conversation to discuss equality worldwide. Comment and discuss the issue on your favorite social networking websites, message boards, or even write your local newspaper. You can also join the fight in our efforts to strike down Prop 8 by joining the NO on Prop 8 web pages on MySpace and FaceBook.

Wherever you are, please pass this message on!

Re-post, forward, or link to this post and spread the word to help in the fight.

Every vote counts, and every vote matters…

About the Author: Julie Phineas is a work at home mom of 2 who lives in Southern California. You can find out more about her and view her photos by visiting her page on MySpace.

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Posted By ~Julie Phineas~ to Lesbian Mommy at 9/09/2008 12:00:00 PM

We all know that friends can be protective. But there is nothing quite like lesbian friends. Dykes tend to stick together like sticky rice in a sushi roll. Once we decide that someone is our friend, we make all their problems, our problems. And like the gay girls that we are, every problem must have a solution. If it can’t be fixed from something at Home Depot than surely it can be fixed by endless hours of discussion, with or without you being present. Yep. Lesbian friends will hijack your romantic or any other kind of troubles and use them as the evenings entertainment when you’re not around, under the guise of concerned friends trying to figure out what’s best for you.

Imagine my glee when on the phone with Remi last night, her best friend sends her a text informing her that she just read my blog about us “just dating.” Ughhhhh!!!!! Talk about pressure! The last thing I want is an Amazonian Marine mad at me because of my smart aleck commentary about dating her best friend and questions as to why we’re still “just dating”?

Well to set the record straight, which is the only thing straight about this blog … we are indeed stuck in some sort of limbo that exists after dating but before a “relationship.” Why? I don’t know. What are going to do about it? I don’t know.

I’m going to Home Depot because I’m remodeling my bathroom. Maybe the answer to my dating dilemma will come to me out of the blue as I peruse the paint aisle, trying to figure out which faux finish I might actually be able to pull off.

So in true lesbian fashion, I’m off to Home Depot …. or maybe Lowe’s. Eh. Either way, nothing makes me look gayer than skipping happily through the aisles of a home improvement store.

The Marine I’m dating that’s headed back to Iraq in a few months has regaled me with many stories of how she has seduced, kissed, slept with countless women in her company. OK OK, not countless. But you get my point.

In the beginning, I too thought that I would be the one with all the opportunity to cheat. After all, I’d be left behind, but left in the land of lipstick lesbians aka Los Angeles. Meanwhile my would-be-girlfriend would be fighting a war on foreign soil, in 120 degree heat, trying to stay alive and come back home safe and sound.

But then one night she showed me a photo album from her last tour in Iraq. Imagine my surprise when I saw pictures that most closely resemble a college frat party in uniform. Or actually, mostly out of uniform. These kids are over there fighting alright. But at the end of the day or whenever they have some free time it sure seems like they try to make the best of it.

Add to it the fact that it seems that the military attracts lesbians, most of the enlisted women bat for our team. She has more opportunity to meet women than I do! Plus they’re all in tight quarters, on the other side of the world, in harm’s way 24/7. Wow, could there be a bigger recipe for hot hook-ups in the desert? I don’t think so.

So yes Donna, from what I hear from several women that have served in the armed forces …. it is pretty much the best place to meet and hook-up with hotties in uniform. I wish I had joined right out of college. All those hot young women in uniform, good Lord! But I digress.

Orgies in Iraq? I don’t know about that. But it does seem that her chances for cheating (if we were to commit to one another before she left) would far outweigh mine. Not to mention she’s got the whole, danger girl thing working for her. But when it comes down to it, I guess it’s all about trust.

Holy crap!!!

So far my only saving grace has been that she too seems to be as painfully gun shy of changing her myspace relationship status as I am. Throw in the little fact that she’s headed back to Iraq in a few months and we’ve got art imitating life in a few uncomfortable ways …. just call me Alice. (For anyone not of the lesbian persuasion, that’s an L Word, season 4 reference) But the harsh truth remains … one of the few girls I’ve met that could possibly tie me down, is headed off to war.

Am I supposed to commit to a woman who’s going to be gone for a year, when I’ve only known her for a few short months? As several friends said, “You can’t stay faithful to women you see every day, how are you supposed to do that for a whole year?!” Isn’t it lovely when you’re friends are brutally honest, at the top of their lungs while sitting on a bar stool at a crowded lesbian club? As if my blog isn’t repellent enough, let’s just scream out my faults for a live audience.

I do have a tendency to live by the motto” Absence makes the heart wonder.” Well, at least that’s the effect it seems to have on mine. I don’t know if something is utterly and terribly wrong with me at a core level, but if I don’t get enough attention, I lose interest. Gasp!! …. did a lesbian just admit to being an attention whore?!! Oh shut up! You know you are too, at least once in a while, we all are. I am when it comes to relationships. Maybe I’m just insecure. But at least I know my limitations. I need a lot of sex and a lot of attention. Or, I need a little of both from several admirers in a nice regular rotation.

Wow. Could I sound like a bigger bitch?

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not a cheater. If I do commit, I’m faithful. But up until that crucial point, all’s fair in love and war.

ps: I am a proud supporter of our men and women in the military and if I were to commit to one of our brave soldiers, I would be 1000000000% faithful to her while she was away. So please, no hate mail. At least not about this.

Having been involved in a butch/femme dynamic I am still wheeling from the stark differences between what it’s like to date a butch and what it’s like to simply date a self-identified lesbian.

I couldn’t help but notice all the similarities between a straight relationship and a butch/femme relationship. The pseudo gender roles of the fifties were strictly enforced under the guise of chivalry and these roles extended well into the bedroom. As the femme, I was supposed to know my place and in my place I wasn’t supposed to be able to open a jar of peanut butter or touch my lover anywhere other than where she said. Which by the way, was basically no where except to grab her hair when screaming her name or to lie in her arms afterwards.

Don’t get me wrong. I love butch women. I absolutely adore them! But in some ways, while dating them, I feel a bit cheated out of being a lesbian. I don’t get to please her, touch her, kiss her when I want to or buy her dinner once in a while. There are plenty of wonderful things that come along with dating butch girls. Men of today should take lessons from our butch sisters in how to treat a woman. There’s just something about having doors opened for you and generally being taken care of that gives me a warm, ummm ….. nice feeling if you get my drift. But in exchange for that, there is a price. To me that price was falling into a box where my role was “femme” and her role was “butch” and anything that threatened that delicate balance was grounds for a fight.

It’s been a while since I dated a woman that let me touch her, kiss her and walk her to her door. I forgot how nice it is to feel a woman, to taste her. I forgot how good it feels to make a girl weak in the knees when I kiss her neck or touch her just so. I recently started dating a girl that lets me kiss her goodnight and pay for a round of drinks. When I look at her body I’m reminded of how unbelievably gay I am and how glad I am that she’s okay with that! There aren’t any rules on who’s allowed to do what and when. We’re equal and both fully capable of taking care of ourselves and each other. So we sort of take turns being the dominant one or the girly one.

Granted, I think I’m still the femme in this situation. She’s a little more tomboi than I am and I like that. But when it comes down to it, I get to be a lesbian again and not a 1950’s housewife.

I got an elbow from a stranger behind me, pushing me even closer to my date as I strained to hear if I heard her right? Did she just say what I thought she said? We stared at each other, both of us waiting for something. I was waiting for her to clarify or repeat herself. She was probably waiting for some sort of coherent response from me other then a dumbstruck smile on my face.

I leaned in and whispered, “What if I told you I felt the same way?”

As if on que the friends that had been fashionably late showed up just in time to break the mood. We smiled, hugged, shook hands and made small talk but my thoughts were spinning back to the moment before when she said, or when I thought she said, she had fallen for me.

Wait. Did she mean she was falling for me? Or that she had already fallen for me? What did that mean exactly? I wanted to kick myself because my girl brain was kicking into overdrive and all I wanted to know was, “What does this mean? Now what? What’s next?”

I wanted to just jump in without even looking into whatever this was between us. But then thoughts of Mr. interrupted my romantic daydreams and I felt a pang of guilt and worry. I didn’t want to hurt her. I didn’t want to lose her from my life. I’d heard of lesbians remaining friends with their ex’s but this was somewhat of my relationship unicorn. I had only heard stories, but had never been able to capture that particular magic. Maybe now was my chance. Maybe I could remain friends with Mr. Since we were anything but healthy for each other as lovers, maybe as friends we would somehow work better.

My attention was brought shooting back to Remi as I felt her hand take mine. She has a way about just taking control of a situation and handling it with such deftness that I feel weak in the knees and just smile as she reassures me with a kiss or a hand at the small of my back.

Could I do this? Could I actually be in a relationship with someone who’s …. gasp … wait for it … good for me???? I don’t even know how to do that!!

The night had just begun and Remi was just getting started making me see her differently that evening.

By the end of the night and the one arm pull ups she did in the park after the club closed, I was seeing something in her that I had been afraid to see before. I saw strength. Not just physically, but strength of character and emotional maturity in the things she said. When I looked back over the time I’ve known her, she’s been consistent in all these things. But for some reason I hadn’t appreciated them till now.

Well I guess we’ll see what happens.

To which Mr. and I both smiled politely and were going to let that be it, but the look of expectancy in the girl’s eyes made me continue on with the banter, “Yea I love to smell like food.” I said with a stupid laugh, immediately realizing how lame that was.

But it wasn’t lame to her. Without missing a beat she responded, “Yea, because than people think you taste yuuuummmmyyy.” With a raised eyebrow and a huge smile she looked and me and than at Mr. and back to me. The old man standing behind me in line took an uncomfortable step backwards and Mr. got all flustered and almost broke the ATM thingy where you swipe your card.

I smiled, raised an eyebrow and bit my lip, not sure of what to say next so I just said, “Well I’m glad you said it and not me.”

She licked her lips and again her glance bounced back and forth between Mr. and I and said in a slightly lower voice this time, “Well, I knew where you were going with that.”

She realized Mr. was having issues with the card swipe thing-a-ma-jig and leaned over the counter suggestively to point out where she should sign. Mr. responded with a nervous laugh and, “You girls are speaking my language and you’ve got me all flustered.”

What you have to understand is that while the words that were spoken may seem harmless enough what I can not convey to you was the flirtiness in her gestures, the twinkle in her eye, the way she licked her lips and raised her eyebrow. Anyone within the vicinity felt the temperature go up at that cash register.

Then I remembered the last time I was at Whole Foods about a week prior and smiled as I recalled the little exchange I had with yet another checker. This last time the girl was so interested in how I brew a particular type of tea I drink that she suggested I just come over to her place and teach her in person. Again, with the extra wink and biting her lip.

My question is this: What is going on with the Whole Foods girls?? And can we see more of this type of behavior?? Pretty Please?? With sugar on top

Yes, I can hear it now. “Good job, Sash. Should have thought that one out ahead of time.”

Well, who knew!?

But I can say that Remi is quite the catch and she’s shown another side of herself that’s pretty effin’ intriguing. More on that to come.

In the mean time just know that if I’m not blogging, it’s because I’m busy … ummmmm …. well … doing blog worthy activities if you get my drift.

The girl ? Ummm maybe that’s a bit too much pressure on both of us!

Miss Right (now) … too cliche and slightly disrespectful since she is definitely more than just a flash in the pan. While it’s true that my track record does not bode well for long term anything … she has pointed out to me several times that it simply takes the right girl.

Maybe her pseudonym shouldn’t have the word “girl” anywhere in it. I could call her “young one” since she’s A LOT younger than I am. But that could have a detrimental affect on my future sex life, so let’s let that one go. She’s legal in at least 40 states and that’s all that matters.

Let’s see …. she’s an amazing athlete, a boxer and several other cool things that I can not write about in an attempt to protect her true identity. Hmmm…. SuperGirl would fit, just ask anyone who knows her. But that conjures up pictures of a girl in tights and a cape. Yea. No.

I know! We both love to shoot and one of our future dates is going to be at the range when I teach her how to shoot my Remington shotgun. I’ll call her Remi after my favorite firearm. I think that’s appropriate. She’s sort of like my favorite guns. Small but powerful. Cute but they pack a punch.

So there. The “other girl” has now graduated to a full grown alias all her own: Remi.

Stay tuned for future updates. Hopefully I won’t screw this one up.

My first mistake was introducing her to myspace. The biggest flaw in that move was adding her to my friends list. Within 24 hours my comments page looked like a “lesbian soap opera” as one friend said. When I wouldn’t respond to her many requests to come over and hang out, she took it on herself to show up at my house at midnight to ask if I would take a walk with her. I have two small but very loud and protective dogs. The only way not to wake up the entire block was to give in to her a few times and, dogs in tow, go for a midnight stroll with my would-be new best friend, if she had anything to say about it.

If this was not enough for me to not want to continue this friendship things got even dicier when she befriended a girl I have the unfortunate pleasure of knowing in a weird confrontational way when I refused her advances. I mean really. This other chick is not just crazy, she’s scary. I warned Taylor about my history with this other woman, who we’ll call Nut Job for the purpose of this blog. But instead of heeding my very serious warning that this woman could potentially be trouble, she went out with her on a date.

The night after Taylor went out with (and when I say went out with, I really mean got banged by) Nut Job, she showed up yet again on my doorstep in the middle of the night crying. Long, weird story slightly shorter …. she kissed me. I did not return the favor.

Somehow on her walk home from my house to hers, she conveniently rewrote the recent accounts in her tiny little brain and told Nut Job that I had put the moves on her! Good Lord, people!!!!! Really??? I mean really.

So I’m going to wrap this little ditty up. Sure there were some rude texts exchanged between the three of us. Sure, a girl I went out on a date with and saw my myspace page littered with Taylor’s ramblings questioned me about her. Sure my Mr. asked me what the hell I had gotten myself into now. Sure. I’m an idiot for helping a stranger move furniture in the middle of the night while drinking vodka. Whatever! That’s neither here not there.

The important thing is I deleted and blocked Taylor from my myspace and my life. Yes, we live a block away from each other and we’re bound to run into each other at the local Targay. But I’ve done my part to end this particular dyke drama … at least my part in it.

Well that’s sort of what happened here, except anyone who knows me, knows that nothing is ever that easy with me. The first night I met this woman I was instantly taken with her. I mean, head over heels gone. Which hardly ever happens to me. But happen it did. The only problem was that once she saw me face to face there was an unexpected “issue”, one that neither one of us could have foreseen. She claimed that I reminded her of her niece! So much so she couldn’t even bring herself to hold my hand, little lone kiss me.

Suffice it to say our first date ended with me close to tears, out of frustration and rejection. It left her baffled, wondering how we could go from such an amazing connection on the phone to such dead air in person.

Most would have chalked it up to a bad date and never seen each other again. But why would I choose the easy way out? Nope, not me. Several months later and I’m still semi-seeing this woman. We’ve gone from trying to date, to sort of dating, to me crying at my car and breaking up with her, back to us being friends, than a super confusing, “Let’s not use any labels, if we sleep together once in a while we don’t need any strings attached” bull crap, back to me breaking up with her via instant messaging and telling her to leave all my stuff on the curb outside my house, to five minutes later making up and begging her to come see me after work. Ahhhhh!!!!! I know. Drama.

Everything seems to be going alright, if by alright you mean we don’t communicate very well, we have awesome sex once in a while, we’re not really dating but get jealous when we see other women leaving myspace comments on the other’s page. Then to top it all off, there’s this other girl.

Yep there’s this other girl that’s slowly and determinedly working her way into the picture. Which is totally legal by the non-rules we have going on with the no-label, no dating thing. Not to mention she rocks on so many levels.

But wait, before we get to the other girl …. Last night I asked the first woman, I call her Mr.. I asked Mr. if I still reminded her of her niece. To which she replied a short and curt, “Yep.” …. Ughhh, stabbed in the heart again. Since she has claimed this to be one of the reasons she keeps me at arms distance.

Then I ask, “Does it still bother you?”

Her immediate reply, “Yep, sometimes.” (Sometimes obviously being the times we are NOT intimate.)
As soon as she answered I felt the familiar punch to my gut I feel every time she mentions some reason why I’m not good enough or not the right type for her. Let me run down the list:

I remind her of her niece.
I’m too tall. (About an inch taller than her.)
I’m too young.
I live too far away. (9 miles, whatever.)
I’m not Hispanic.

I can’t tell you the countless times she’s thoughtlessly or maybe not so thoughtlessly brought those issues up, none of which I can change. All of which totally have to do with her perception of me.

So last night after I tried to cheer her up on the phone, right before going to bed, she once again reminded me of why I will never be right for her.

Right before I wrote this blog I got a text from the other girl. It started out with, “Hey beautiful ….” Something I never hear from Mr.. Something I don’t even think Mr. thinks about me.

It’s hard to want someone who doesn’t want you back or even worse, they want you to change.

It’s nice to be called beautiful and be appreciated for all the things you are and not judged on things you can’t change anyway.

The lesbian dating scene is hard enough without trying to navigate through someone else’s minefield of issues they have with you. So this other girl has Mr. to thank in some way, for constantly opening the door for her. Every time Mr. hurts my feelings I feel less and less like putting myself out there for her and more and more like putting myself out there for someone who actually thinks I’m pretty cool just the way I am.

Don’t get me wrong, I really care for Mr.. It’s just how many times can I take being rejected by the same person over and over again?

Yep. When I count how many gold-star lesbians I know I don’t have to hurt my brain with the math. It totals a sky high one. You read that right, I only know one woman that can legitimately claim to be the real deal.

For those of you living under a rock, a gold-star lesbian is a woman who has never ever had sex with a man. Gawd, what I wouldn’t do to turn back time. But until that happens all I can do is be proud of the fact that I’ve been sleeping with women for more years now than I had slept with men. That should count for something, right?

Which brings me to my point. One night one of my friends announced proudly that since it had been five whole years since she had slept with the enemy, she was now a born-again lesbian. Which is about as realistic as straight-church-going-born-again virgins but hey, it got me thinking. Why not?

Personally I didn’t sleep with a boy till I was twenty. No I wasn’t a late bloomer, I was just gay and didn’t know why I was stalling so long. My detour into Hetero-Ville lasted till I was twenty-four. With a year or two after that stuck in Bi-Town. I eventually got my sense of direction and have been living happily in Homo City for the last four years, six if you count my over all time as a queer girl.

So you see, I’ve been sleeping with women for two years longer than I was mistakenly sleeping with men. Maybe we can get some sort of credit for that? Like a silver star once you’ve slept with women for as long as you slept with men? Or once you’ve slept with more women than men. You get a bronze star once your time in Homo City has surpassed your time in Hetero-Ville.

Shoot, maybe we could get a tarnished gold star once we get married to the woman of our dreams and adopt a bi-racial baby?

Well, while I would love to claim to be some sort of gold star lesbian I can’t. Unless you count what’s inside and not just my past. Because if you could see beneath the surface, you’d see a big bright gold star stamped on my beating heart. Representing the pride and love I feel for the lesbian community and the hope I have for finding the future Mrs. Sasha … er, wait. Just because it’s legal I’m still not jumping on that bandwagon. We’ll just call her Miss Right.