Card Carrying Lesbian … What’s in your wallet?

Non-Verbal Lesbian Cues go International

Posted on 28. Apr, 2009 by Sasha.

So as you know the combination of my fear of commitment and my Libra sense of perpetual indecisiveness I have made the big leap and committed myself to the love of temporary tattoos.

I searched the internet high and low for fake star tattoos. I found a few but they had little sparklies in them which while cute, I’m not always in the mood for glitter. So I found a cool website called Stray Tatts that lets you design your own tattoos, any color and size. So of course I immediately ordered some nautical stars in blue, purple, pink and green. Not all on one star! Each star is a different color.

I’ve been sporting a little star on my wrist almost every day, for several reasons. The first and most important reason is that I’m hoping to signal other lesbians that I too, am of the sapphic persuasion. The other reason is that it just makes me happy to look down and see a cute little star staring up at me. Ya ya, I know, I’m a dork. Never claimed to be anything else. But recent events have made me believe more then ever in Angels and every time I look at my little star I think of a little Angel watching over me. (Ugh gag me with a spoon, sorry about the sap.)

However for some lame reason I wasn’t wearing my little nautical star/I’m a big homo fake tattoo on my wrist today when I finally drug my ass back to the gym. And low and behold there was a new lesbian in class! I was so excited another gay girl was joining my gym and then I remembered, I didn’t have any secret code, star tattoo, or labrys on to show her that I was in the club too.

Then she ended up being my sparring partner for the day and she didn’t speak any English. Again it shot through my mind, how useful a non-verbal cue like a little tattoo would be when I spotted it …. yep …. a red and black nautical tattoo on her left wrist! Are you freakin’ kidding me?! Awesome.

Apparently even dykey Japanese exchange students are into nautical star tattoos.

So I’m thinking for Long Beach Pride which is quickly approaching, that I’ll wear a nautical star on each wrist, a labrys pendant, a silver ring on my middle finger and another on my thumb. But just to be safe, I’m getting another custom fake tattoo that says, “DYKE” and I think I’ll wear that on my forehead, since I’m so tired of women acting like I’m some straight girl that took a wrong turn and ended up at Pride.

ps: I realize I’ve been totally obsessed with these things lately, sorry about that. But hey, it’s better then crack

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When you realize you’re a lesbian ….

Posted on 13. Apr, 2009 by Sasha.

I’m in a constant state of awe at my total lack of self-awareness as far as figuring out I was a lesbian. I mean really, how could I not have figured out I was gay before the age of 24!?

I mean I could understand if I was bi. But I’m not. I’m just gay, I’m sooooooo gay it’s hard to fathom that it took me SO long to figure it out.

My girlfriend is one of the lucky ones, a lifer. She’s known her entire life since she was a little tomboy trying to impress all her older sister’s friends that she was a lesbian. Before she even knew the word for it, she knew what she was. God how I wish I could go back in time and tell my younger self, “Hey don’t waste your time on him. It’s his sister you really want.”

I can’t help but try to imagine how different my life would have been if I had known back in high school when I started dating. How smooth I’d be with women by now if instead of honing my skills on the more brutish of the species I had spent that time sweet talking the ladies. I also wonder how many women I would have slept with by now. No doubt I would have been a huge slut and slept with every girl on my cheer squad, every girl on the basketball team and even a few on the softball team. Then by the time I got to college I’m sure I would have been nothing less then a total mac.

I even wonder how knowing so early would have affected my style. Would I have ended up more butch? More tomboi/sporty? Would I have pushed for those karate lessons I wanted so dearly in lieu of all those ballet classes I took for twenty years? Maybe if I had known I was a lesbian in my formative years I might not have ended up such a femme?

Hmmmm ….. I really wonder what affect it has on one’s identity within the lesbian community at what age you come out, at least to yourself. Do lesbians that know from an early age tend to be more butch? Are femmes girls that didn’t have a clue till after they had molded themselves into societies idea of a lady?

What do you think? Does knowing you’re gay early in life affect what type of lesbian you’re going to end up being? Or is a butch a butch and a femme a femme no matter when the proverbial light bulb goes off that says “Oh, I like girls!”

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Confessions of a Pillow Princess

Posted on 04. Mar, 2009 by Sasha.

I was having one of those uncomfortable conversations late one night in bed with my girlfriend. It went something like this:

“It’s been two days.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I’m just really tired.”

“That’s what you said last night and the night before.”

“I know, I’m sorry!”

“Stop saying sorry! I just want to know what’s wrong.”

Dead silence for a few minutes. Reruns of Ghosthunters playing in the background. Then for no good reason I can think of, out of the blue I follow up with, “You want to know what I miss about having sex with a man?”

Really? What the hell is wrong with me!?

“What?” was the only thing Remi could say but I could already see that I should have kept that part to myself.

Not to mention that I don’t actually miss having sex with men, but in my convoluted thinking I thought to myself, “This will be a good ice-breaker into why I haven’t been in the mood lately!” …. *dunce cap please* …. just point me to the nearest corner.

So what was my brilliant reason for missing sex with men?! (more…)

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Activating your Gaydar

Posted on 24. Feb, 2009 by Sasha.

I realized something disconcerting: when my love life is a disaster zone, I’m quite prolific with my writing. In all areas: blogging, work, school … the whole sheebang. However, on the flip side, when I’m looking through rose colored glasses, freshly laid and amorous towards my girl, my creative streak takes a hit.

I mentioned this to my friend, Melody, who suggested that I write a blog offering advice on how to meet ladies.

What on earth gave her the idea that little old me would have anything to say on that topic?? LOL … Ok, maybe I do.

So here it goes:

First of all, the most important thing I can stress here is to resist the urge to behave in any stalkery fashion whatsoever. Do not become so obsessed with the first queer girl you make eye contact with that you lose your marbles and scare the poor girl. The last thing you want to do is get served with a restraining order or on a less dramatic note, get blocked from her myspace.

Since a lot of girls I’ve known have apparently had the stalker gene let me reiterate: Do not drive by her house a hundred times. Do not stop by her work a lot unless she works at a supermarket or something and you can legitimately get away with it. And do not cyber stalk her either. Even if she doesn’t know you’re doing it, you know and nothing is more unattractive than desperation. Girls can smell it a mile away.

So if you’re lucky enough to score her digits, do not text stalk her either. Remember, she could just change her number and how embarrassing will that be when you run into her and she lies about having dropped her phone in the toilet or something equally absurd just to avoid giving you her new number.

The main lesson here is to play it cool. You’re not cool, you say? I don’t care! Act like you are then hug your teddy bear and cry in private. But keep that to yourself.

So keeping your self-esteem out of the stalker gutter is of the utmost importance.

With that out of the way let’s move on to actually meeting your would-be stalking victim … Oh wait, you already promised me you wouldn’t do that. So let’s just call her the future object of your affection.

The first thing you need to do before you leave the house every day is turn your gaydar on.

How do you do that? It’s easy. (more…)

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Lesbian Housewives

Posted on 14. Feb, 2009 by Sasha.

I’m sure some of you have seen some of the comments a few readers have left me, indecent proposals I suppose. If I were single I’d be flattered, maybe a little worried since some of them have a bit of a stalker feel to them. But still flattering non the less.

Let’s take a look at some of the comments from my greatest hits list, shall we? (more…)

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Butch By Association

Posted on 08. Feb, 2009 by Sasha.

I find it endlessly interesting, the way that us lesbians feel the need to categorize ourselves and each other into these limiting roles of femme, butch, tomboi, androgynous and futch (right in the middle between femme and butch). I’m sure I’m missing some, but these are the ones I hear most often. Actually, I usually just hear femme and butch. But we all know that there’s a million shades of gray between those two extremes.

Even though I know better then to stereotype and label people, I find myself doing it all the time. If for no other reason then as a means of describing someone to someone else in a casual conversation. Or while people watching at a lesbian club. Last night, Remi and I went to Club Eleven in WeHo and could have been overheard saying any version of, “Look at that butch checking out the femme in blue.” Or, “Whoa, is that some butch on butch action?!” Not that there’s anything wrong with that.

But that’s sort of my point. Why is it considered taboo in some circles for two butch women to date? (more…)

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Damsel in Distress seeks Hero on White Steed

Posted on 05. Feb, 2009 by Sasha.

Last night after the lights went out, my gf and I started having one of those deep conversations that only come from being a little drunk or so tired you’re almost delusional. We were both exhausted, which translated into being too tired to hit the edit button on our brains. There’s also something about talking in the dark that’s a lot like talking on the phone. It gives you a feeling of being unobserved, allowing you to pause and ponder what the other just said, unafraid that your partner will misinterpret the trepid look on your face.

If any of you read the comments left on my last blog you could see how I may have felt a little targeted yesterday. And like a good girlfriend, Remi came to my defense. I didn’t ask her too, I never would. Not that I would ever have to. While mild mannered in most ways, she’s always too happy to come to my rescue.

Which is what we were talking about last night …. my apparent need of the occasional Knight in Shining Armor and her need to be that for me. I started to worry recently with some other things that have been going on in my life that Remi would soon tire of having to always “save me” even though it’s usually from myself. (more…)

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Why don’t femmes pay?

Posted on 14. Jan, 2009 by Sasha.

Why don’t femmes pay?

When we were up in Oregon on our road trip to visit Remi’s family, we stopped by her sister’s work. It’s a pretty small town and I’m pretty sure we were the only lesbian couple walking around town holding hands. After we left, her sister was swarmed by the people in her office. One girl got up the nerve to ask what everyone else was wondering, “When your sister and her ‘friend’ go out, who pays?”

Hahahaha …… that was the biggest question? Not, “Is your sister gay?” Because apparently that’s obvious. But who pays was the question of the day. To which her sister answered, “Ummm …. I think my sister pays.”

Which brings me to the topic of todays blog, well actually, it’s a few things.

1. How come when we go out to eat, the waiter ALWAYS puts the bill in front of Remi.

2. Why do people automatically assume that she pays for everything and that I never pay for anything?

3. But more then that, why is that the case? Why does she insist on paying and why do most femme’s expect that their date picks up the bill? (more…)

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Why am I the Wifey?! WTF??

Posted on 24. Dec, 2008 by Sasha.

The other morning when I went out to get the mail I was pleasantly surprised to see a Christmas card from Remi’s parents. Oh how sweet I thought. I opened it up and read it to Remi over the phone. “Awwwwww” was both of our responses.

But later I was copying her parents address into my address book when I realized how the envelope was addressed:

Remi and Sasha

“Our” home address

Holy fuck!!!

I’ve never been part of an “and” before on mail! This was the first “couple mail” I’ve ever received and I sure as hell am not used to having the same address as my girlfriend. Whoa. It took me a minute to absorb the gravity of the situation.

In an attempt to calm myself down I called Remi who then laughingly told me that her sister was going to address our card to:

Remi and Sasha (insert Remi’s last name here)

As if we’re married! Hahaha very funny to play with the commitment phobic couple.

But if that’s not bad enough, why does everyone assume I’m the wife!?

I know, we’d both be “the wife” if we were married, but you know what I mean. Somehow I automatically get relegated to “wifey status.” WTF??

Just because I like to bake when I’m upset does not mean I’m anyone’s wifey.

Ughhhh you know I’m just venting.

I actually adore her family and think they’re hilarious. Remi reminds me every once in a while that they wouldn’t tease me if they didn’t like me. It’s ok, I can take it.

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The Sign Read: Helpless femme, please rescue me.

Posted on 23. Dec, 2008 by Sasha.

I was at Home Depot the other day to buy some knee pads. Yes, knee pads. But before your dirty minds go where they’re most comfortable, there’s a perfectly good reason that a lesbian would need knee pads while her girlfriend’s away.

I’m laying down flooring in my house. I know, I know … how very butch of me. I can’t help but giggle when I think about it, but it’s true: I’m sort of handy. Not in a very butch way, but more in a “Look up how-to-videos on youtube and then feel over-confident about my abilities” kind of way.

So I haven’t actually started laying the floors yet. But I do have the outfit. I have the knee pads, the sexy torn jeans with paint splatter from when I painted my own house, the very sexy eye protection and by very sexy I mean dorky. And finally my hair up in a ponytail, under a well worn baseball cap. Hopefully I don’t look like I’m trying to hard, because I might actually be.

I might not look like I’m trying to hard, but I obviously don’t look like I know what I’m doing either. I was browsing the aisles of Home Depot when I realized I was being followed, and not so subtly might I add. A few feet behind me on every aisle was the same butch woman suspiciously eyeing me. Finally when I was looking at the knee pads she came up to me and asked, “What exactly does a girl like you need knee pads for?”

To which I involuntarily giggled because I have a dirty mind and she smirked, because she did too.

I proceeded to explain that I was in a mad dash to rip up my old carpet and lay the floors before my girlfriend got out of the Marines and moved in with me. At the mention of my girlfriend, her eyebrows shot up, “You’re girlfriend? Oh …. well … um … You know I’ve laid plenty of wood … I can help you out no problem. I’m right down the street from here, it would be my pleasure.”

I couldn’t help but think to myself how Remi would react if I did indeed took home a strange woman to help me get the house ready for her. While my intentions would be totally pure, my would be Knight in a shining tool belt might not be as innocent.

I thanked her for her generous offer but had to turn her down. She shrugged and handed me her business card, just in case I change my mind. Uh huh …

When I got home I looked in the mirror but couldn’t see it …. I kept looking but still couldn’t find the sign that read: Helpless femme, please rescue me.

Uh. Maybe it’s written in invisible ink and only people with hero complexes can see it. Not saying that Remi has a hero complex, or that any of the other women that offer to come to my aid do, but I swear, I’m starting to get one. What the hell is it about me that makes other women think I need so much damn help?!

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Butch/Femme relationships versus lesbian relationships

Posted on 24. Aug, 2008 by Sasha.

Now before you go and bite my head off yelling at me that butch/femme relationships are lesbian relationships let me tell you that I am well aware of that fact.

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.

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High femme vs Stone Femme: one interpretation

Posted on 23. Jun, 2008 by Sasha.

There are countless ways to define the femme identity/gender and as many ways for each woman to express it in her own way. But for the purpose of this single blog I will define these two versions as such:

High Femme: a femme lesbian who is ultra feminine in her appearance and behavior. May chose to only date butch women. Plays the passive role in the bedroom i.e., she is the one fucked, never the one doing the fucking.

Stone Femme: a femme lesbian that may appear to be an ultra femme in her appearance but expresses butch attributes in bed and may not allow her lovers to fuck her at all. Leaving all the seeming power securely in her capable hands.

Or she may allow herself to be fucked by her partners but never allows them to actually touch her where it counts. Emotionally, intimately, at her core, to break down the walls she’s so skillfully erected over time.

She’s figured out a way to expose her body and hide her heart in her nudity. Her sexuality has become a weapon, not a weakness. She understands that when they’re looking at her body they’re not really looking at her at all. So she’s able to hide in plain sight, to hide in full view, naked and aroused but untouched where it really counts.

A Stone Femme can wield her power over her lover and make her lover feel as if they’re the one in control. She’s strong enough to give up control of her body to someone else, because she knows that they’ll never control anything else about her.

Her lover may dominate her in bed but her lover will never really know her. She only sees what the Stone Femme allows her to see. Even tears are carefully placed props. What seemed like vulnerability was anything but.

Be careful if you know a Stone Femme. Chances are you do, but you don’t realize it. Stone Femmes are mistresses of disguise. Oscar worthy actresses and brilliant chameleons. They’ll be the girl of your dreams and your best friend. They’ll adapt to their environment without even trying, all those years of surviving have molded them into experts at blending in while standing out.

They can do and become anything you need them to be. Anything to keep you at arms distance, but no further. Tied to them through lust and desire but constantly pushing you away with ambiguity and neurosis.

There’s something about them you can’t get enough of. They’re addictive and dangerous yet something about them makes you want to save them. When you hold her body in your arms, the softness of her curves makes her feel vulnerable. When you look into her eyes, behind the long dark lashes you mistakenly think you see weakness. Something in her that needs to be protected.

You’re only half wrong. There’s no weakness left in her but she does need to be saved. From herself more than anything. But she’s made of stone and there’s no way you or anyone else can chip away at it. She’s a Stone Femme. It’s taken her whole life to make her that way. It’ll take a lot more than artful fucking to save her from herself. But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try.

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Hard Femmes

Posted on 08. May, 2008 by Sasha.

Since butch women are my current obsession, so to speak I’ve been thinking about the differences between butch and femme. What those labels imply, what it means to be either or both or neither in many cases. I’ve heard from a lot of women on both sides of the table and I have to tell you that I feel as if I’ve fallen down a rabbit hole. This is a seemingly endless topic with offshoots that lead to unexpected places to ponder, discuss and in some cases cause oneself to totally rethink certain preconceived notions.

It’s impossible to blog just once on this topic. So I guess I’ll just take it one little step at a time.

Earlier today my mother, bless her heart, who is trying with all her might to be the most supportive and cool mom any dyke could ask for was questioning me about the topic on hand. The discussion got to a point where I heard myself saying, “From my own experience the women I know that identify as butch are actually the softest, most gentle women I know in a lot of ways. While on the other hand, the femme looking ones, myself included have a very hard side to our personalities.”

Which made me wonder about this and then I read a few emails and comments left by several butch women. They all expressed a similar feeling of just being born that way, not feeling as if they had too much choice in the matter. This was just the way they are, they didn’t know why and it hurts them that others sometimes discriminate against them for it.

It dawned on me that maybe the softness, for lack of a better word I see in the butch women I know comes from the fact that they live their lives in a very vulnerable state. They don’t really blend in, they either can’t or don’t hide who or what they are and they should never be made to feel that they should. But what I’m saying is that they just sort of put themselves out there. For better or worse, they’re more vulnerable in some ways than a femme.

Here, let me try to illustrate my point. As a femme woman myself I have grown up very aware of the affect my body and sexuality has on men. I grew up well aware that beautiful women get by easier in this world. So I played the game with the best of them. I learned how to feel comfortable with that and I think a lot of women do.

It’s almost like a femme woman gets up in the morning and she puts on makeup/warpaint. Like a woman preparing for war she puts on her armor/wonder bra. She dresses in whichever way will benefit her and throw her opponent off his game a bit. Maybe that means high heels, sexy business suits or whatever. But she knows there’s a game to play and even if she doesn’t like it, she’s still in the game the minute she walks out of her front door. So she dons her public persona …. a feminine ideal, carefully calculated to help her navigate her way through a male dominated world. If we can’t hide our feminine wiles, we might as well use them when it suits us.

Looking at myself and my friends I can see that we all have a very definite image we present to the world. While we are very feminine and attractive we like to think of ourselves as cold hearted and maybe even ruthless when necessary. It’s almost as if the softer a woman looks, the harder she’s become along the way.

A beautiful woman doesn’t go through life without constant sexual harassment coupled with being underestimated on a daily basis. This causes callouses of sorts that result in a very dangerous product: A beautiful woman that’s capable of anything to get what she wants.

So while femme women maybe able to hide parts of themselves behind the makeup and pretty clothes. Our butch counterparts could be seen as more exposed for who they really are. Femmes are able to “pass” in straight society, hardly having to face any prejudice from ignorant strangers. While perhaps other women do have to endure injustice and in some cases physical harm for what they look like.

All I’m saying is that whatever this whole “Butch/Femme” thing is, whether it’s about looks, style, gender or roles … it doesn’t really matter because when you get to the heart of it, what you’ll really find is the heart of a woman.

In my humble opinion the hearts of femmes may be harder than you might think so be careful of lip gloss wielding women, we’re more trouble than you might expect.

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