Card Carrying Lesbian … What’s in your wallet?

Lesbians Don’t Nag

Posted on 02. Jul, 2009 by Sasha.

Since Remi moved in, the issue of household chores has gone through some sort of slow yet progressive evolution. In the beginning, I felt like she was a houseguest, so I did all the housework, her laundry and cooking. A few months into it and she lost her houseguest status and became a full fledged member of the family so to speak.

What she lost in rank, she gained in responsibilities. I figured since she’s the one that goes off every day to a grueling 9 to 5, I could still manage the bulk of the household duties. But I gave her my least favorite things to do: yard work, the floors and one bathroom. All of which could be done one lousy day a week. My chores on the other hand are like living in a perpetual loop of dirty laundry, dirty dishes, dirty everything that seems to NEVER stay clean long enough for me to feel like I’m making any headway!

So while she can get away with doing all her little things in a few hours once a week, I’m  left doing the same list of chores every day for the first few hours of my day. Hey, I work too! Albeit from home, so my commute consists of walking from the bed to my desk after a suitable amount of time spent enjoying my morning coffee. But still, I do work.

Yet somehow I always tend to feel like my work is so much less important then hers because my day can be pushed around to accommodate her laundry. Hmph. The fact that she has a regular paycheck and a strict schedule compared to my schedule of “write when my mind is clear or the muse of inspiration hits me upside the head” and a paycheck that is less then what I used to bring home as a biofeedback practitioner in a single week can definitely test a girl’s self-esteem.

All of this would still be somewhat more palatable if Remi actually did any of her chores when she was supposed to, which lets review: is only ONCE  A  WEEK. (more…)

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Evolving from GF to Partner

Posted on 23. Jun, 2009 by Sasha.

A while ago I posted a blog about all the silly reasons I disliked the term “partner.” Well it wasn’t too long after that, I was eating my words. But I’m nothing if not willing to admit when I’ve made a mistake.

Yep, it’s true. I have become one of “those lesbians” who sometimes calls her girlfriend, her partner, if only in my head. How could such a crime against my nature occur?

Well I guess for starters I either didn’t know my nature or it’s evolving with or without my consent. Remi and I have been living together for 6 months now and in that time she has put me on her insurance, bought most of the groceries, paid for my dogs astronomical vet bills and overall, made it her mission to be sure that I was OK at all times. Whether that was financially, emotionally or otherwise. She is just always there for me.

On my side of things, I do all the housewivey things … cook, clean, laundry …. but don’t tell anyone. Because that goes against the image I have of myself in my mind. You know the one, where I’m sexy and cool and so NOT housewife material. But it is what it is and it works for us.

So over time, I started to see what a lot of my readers commented on. The term “girlfriend” just isn’t enough sometimes. It’s what we used 99% of the time, but still …. there are those moments that the term “partner” just seems to fit better. It is a little more serious sounding, has more of a committed ring to it perhaps.

So that’s me … eating crow and loving it …. which says a lot since I’m a vagetarian.

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Why the term “Partner” is just toooo gay

Posted on 11. Mar, 2009 by Sasha.

Before Remi moved in she was my girlfriend. But as soon as we shared a mailing address we all of sudden were relegated to “partner” status. WTF is up with that?

Reasons I am less then fond of the term “partner”:

• It makes us sound like a pair of 50yr old lesbians that belong to a senior bowling league, garden and wear mom jeans.

• The term girlfriend sounds so much more fun, sexually active, young and carefree. The term partner sounds like we’re on the waiting list to adopt a Cambodian child after we get back from our tour with the Peace corps.

• Being partners sounds like we’re both vegetarian, animal rights activists, environmentalists hippies that obsessively read labels and then loudly proclaim how dangerous parabens and sulfates are in the aisles of the supermarket. But I’m the only one that does that, my “partner” just rolls her eyes and walks away pretending not to know me. Not too mention that she eats meat like it’s going out of style while I drool over my fried tofu.

• Somehow the label partner easily gets rolled into “domestic partner” which sounds even worse! Now instead of adopting a gaggle of orphans it sounds like we’ve become those scary old cat ladies down the block with twenty cats and a few ferrets for good measure. You know the one’s I mean, the ladies who wear pictures of their cats on their tee shirts and drive mini-vans that smell like cheetos.

• Once we’ve hit “Domestic partner” status “Life Partner” is just a hop skip and a jump away! Oh gawd …. every time I hear that my gag reflex kicks in. I mean seriously. Straight people don’t have to go around defining the state of their relationships as intricately as we do! You never hear Bob say, “This is my life wife” or “This is a very serious relationship as you can tell by my use of extra qualifying adjectives I put in front of her name when I introduce her.” Nope. Breeders simply introduce their significant other and people just smile and accept it.

• Partner also sounds like either a) we’ve opened a business together or b) I’m trying too hard to be politically correct. Which in itself can be seen two different ways:
  1) Am I trying to avoid saying I have a girlfriend as to avoid the judgmental looks of whoever I happen to be speaking to … or … 2) Do I think that the term partner is the best us gays can do till Prop 8 gets overturned and we have the right to use the term wife or fiance like everyone else?

• Last but not least, I might as well introduce my “partner” as, “This is my lover, Cindy.” *cough*gag*gag*

Why is the term partner seen as more serious then girlfriend?

Is it the gay version of fiance?

Is it the politically correct term for shacking up? I

s it just our way of getting a deal on car insurance and a Costco membership?

In our case it’s not a label we’ve embraced on our own. It was just sort of thrown on us by well meaning people who thought they were being respectful of our “alternative” lifestyle.

Well anyway you look at it, I don’t like the term for my relationship but I respect it when others choose to use it. As of right now, I have a girlfriend. Period.

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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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Multiple O’s = Domestic Goddess

Posted on 22. Feb, 2009 by Sasha.

Just when things seem hopeless …. great sex saves the day.

Last night when Remi got home, we both were in polite mode. Yes, please and thank you’s were exchanged as if we were strangers sharing an uncomfortably small cabin on a train. The same feeling of not being able to get off till the next stop, which wouldn’t be till morning made the curt pleasantries necessary, less we unravel into one of our marathon “talks” about what’s wrong with our relationship.

We’ve had that conversation for several nights in a row. There’s never any clear cut answers and fewer obvious fixes. So we both silently agree to ignore the big rainbow colored elephant sitting in the middle of the room: Our disintegrating relationship topped off with the fact that we had barely touched, little lone had sex in at least 5 days.

We settled into our night like mere roommates. We popped in reruns of Queer as Folk, grabbed some munchies and played with the dogs in bed. The night was going along just fine. But not great. Great would have been feeling like we were more then roommates. Great would have been wanting to kiss her and touch her and do things that roommates shouldn’t do. Great would have been feeling close to my girlfriend instead of farther away from her then when she was across the country.

We watched 3 episodes of Queer of Folk till I couldn’t keep my eyes open any longer. So I said goodnight and rolled over.

It was then that the night went from fine to great.

She wasn’t going to let me sleep. She grabbed me by the shoulder and made me face her. Kissing me like she wasn’t going to take no for an answer I let her do whatever she wanted …. and she wanted a lot. (more…)

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My first Ultimatum: Me or Her?

Posted on 17. Feb, 2009 by Sasha.

Remi and I are fighting. We’ve barely spoken since last night. She came home from work and for some reason everything she did was on my last nerve. Little things like not washing her dishes and expecting me to do it all the time to not wanting to eat dinner with me, even though I told her the night before to expect to have dinner together when she got home.

Plus she’s pissed at me for having stayed in contact with an ex. Who I said I wouldn’t talk to anymore. I know, I know …. bad Sasha. So shoot me. I suck at monogamy. But I’m trying.

Ughhh …. living together is not easy. I guess the honeymoon’s over.

That was fast. (more…)

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Two Lesbians Walk into the VA ….

Posted on 16. Feb, 2009 by Sasha.

Going to the Long Beach VA with my Marine girlfriend is always an experience within itself. The other day, she had to go in to get her wrist checked. Apparently, dating me may give her carpal tunnel syndrome or worse.

As soon as we step foot on VA soil, we go into “act straight mode” … no hand holding, no kissing, NO TOUCHING whatsoever. I tell myself that it’s the same thing as if I were going with my straight best friend (if I had one, but she’s long gone because she was a backstabbing bitch). I tell myself that people probably just assume I’m her best friend, totally platonic … uh huh … no hot lesbian action happening here! No sir.

But apparently we stand out over there. Either we look extremely gay or (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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First Night Out in a While …. Oh boy

Posted on 25. Jan, 2009 by Sasha.

A few of you asked me to re-post this so here it is. This is the previously deleted post that I took down because a reader left a scathing comment. Usually I have pretty thick skin but I guess I didn’t yesterday. But thanks to some of your comments I feel a little better so I’ve re-posted in an attempt to stay true to what I like to do, which is be painfully honest about the highs and lows. This was a low. So be it. I’m not only NOT perfect, I’m pretty fucked up sometimes. I know this. Remi knows this. I’ve apologized to her for the evening and she forgave me, so that’s all that matters.

So tonight was the first night that Remi and I have been out since she got discharged from the Marine Corps. But before we get to WeHo let’s back up a bit. (more…)

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Being a “Typical Lesbian” never sounded so good.

Posted on 17. Dec, 2008 by Sasha.

The other day my friend Maggie left me a myspace comment that read: “Secondly, I have concluded that you are a typical lesbian. I know, I know, we thought it not true, but as it turns out (and to our dismay) you actually are.”

Another comment left on my blog that read: “You sure have turned into quite a GIRL.”

Now to the average reader, being called a girl or a typical lesbian may not seem like the scathing insult it’s meant as, when bantered between women such as ourselves.

Maggie and I used to be the only single ladies in a group of happily coupled lesbians. I have many fond memories of Maggie and I drinking vodka, texting each other even though we were sitting right across from one another, sarcastically commenting on our friends making goo goo eyes at their girlfriends or feeding them tacos with so much affection we wanted to gag.

We’ve had long philosophical conversations about how we must be intrinsically different from our friends. Since we were able to separate sex from love and vice versa. We prided ourselves on always being the one in control in any relationship. Always being the one that walked away, slammed the door or hung up first. Never the one that begged and pleaded or got overly attached against our better judgment. We were never such GIRLS.

So imagine Maggie’s surprise and maybe a little disappointment in reading my current trend of blogs in which I confess my undying love and devotion for my girlfriend in the most GIRLY, DYKEY way imaginable … complete with sappy stories of breaking up and getting back together and finally … u-hauling.

Geez. I guess she was right. I have turned into quite a GIRL … and I love it.

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A Lesbian Love Shack

Posted on 10. Dec, 2008 by Sasha.

I’m taking the train down to China Town today in search of some mythical boxes that will solve all my problems. Apparently there exists somewhere, hidden in the depths of China Town a magical set of chests and once I find them and bring them home, there will be nothing standing in my way to finishing my floors!

Follow my logic: My living room is more of a storage space and less of a living space. Yet my garage is filled full to overflowing with a million things I’ll die without, so that means I have to find a way to store all my necessary objects while still clearing away space so that I can move all the furniture, rip up the carpet and put down my shiny, new hard-wood floors …. all before Remi moves in!

So my brilliant lesbian solving skills came up with the over-simplistic idea of getting pretty boxes to put all my crap in. This way they can stay in the living room as end tables and such with no one the wiser.

Apparently, there is nothing quite as motivating to get oneself off one’s ass as to invite your girlfriend to move into your fixer-upper, slightly better then a shack of a house. Granted, I’m proud of the fact that I own real estate. But I’m not so proud of the current condition of my half-torn up dwelling. Nothing says procrastinator louder then walking around a house full of half done projects, exposed dry-wall, kitchen cabinets without doors (I was going to strip them and re-paint them … well that was the plan) and half torn up floors.

Yep, that’s right. I’ve invited my gf to move into a construction project.

But it’s going to be ok. I have 12 days before she shows up on my doorstep for leave. That’s plenty of time to do what I haven’t done in the last two years!

So I’m off to China Town in search of the magical set of chests that will transform my drab little house into a girlfriend-friendly, dykey abode of domestic bliss.

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Who Knew I had a U-Haul?

Posted on 09. Dec, 2008 by Sasha.

If you’ve been reading my blog for a while, and by a while I mean before I met my gf, Remi, you may have noticed that I used to have a serious problem with commitment. It wasn’t so much a problem for me, as it was for the ladies I would date. I guess you could call it a long standing feud between myself and the ever-claustrophobic, panic-attack inducing status called “Being in a relationship.”

But as you all know, that’s slowly changed as my relationship with Remi has evolved. So much so that we’ve decided to take the ultimate plunge into lesbian euphoria and we’re moving in together.

Gasp …. shock … and awe ….. those were my initial responses after the reality of what we’d decided on had hit me.

Hold on a second! Calm down. Before any of you who know me personally start typing madly away on your little keyboards to leave me either a scathing comment yelling at me because I couldn’t so much as commit to a date more than 24hrs in advance with you, or a teasing comment because you’re my friend and you know how ridiculous this all sounds coming out of my mouth. Stop and read on to see how this amazingly lesbian turn of events came to be.

It all began with her deployment. Since she was going to be gone for a year or so, there was no need for her to keep paying rent some place just to keep her things in. So of course like the wonderful girlfriend that I am, I offered up my place as a temporary yet safe haven for all her worldly belongings.

Well, I didn’t really realize it was going to be all of them. But as it turns out my girlfriend may be the most low maintenance woman on the planet and everything she owns fits into a few boxes that are not so neatly stacked in my spare room. But that’s neither here nor there, my point is still yet to come.

I’m trying to explain to you how our eventual co-habitation in dykey bliss has come about.

After she left her things at my house and let her other place go, it just made sense that she change her mailing address to my address while she’s away for bills and such. Then I realized that when she gets back from Iraq she’s going to need a place to stay while she looks for an apartment. Who knows how long that could take? It could be a week or a month! So of course I told her she was more then welcome to stay with me when she got back till she got herself settled back into civilian life.

We both liked this idea and started talking about how nice that would be to spend that time together. Enter our road-trip to Oregon: where I freaked out before going because I was sure I was going to feel claustrophobic, panicky and not be able to sleep next to her since I can NEVER sleep with anyone in the same bed. Hence my habit of driving home at 4:00 a.m. disheveled, rather then risk the dreaded cuddle time.

However to my great surprise I wasn’t only able to sleep next to her, I was able to snore! Yep, as it turns out, she’s the cure for my insomnia. Something about having her next to me in bed acts like a qualude and I’m instantly sound asleep. I slept better with her than I do without her. If that’s not a sign than I don’t know what is.

Coming back to the present and the more we talked about when she comes back and the more we realized that it made more sense for her to just stay in my place then look for her own apartment where she’ll still have to find a roommate.

This way we both win. She doesn’t have to live with a stranger and I can get a good nights sleep. It’s even more selfish on my part then that. I’m at a stand still with the remodeling of my fixer-upper home and don’t think it didn’t cross my mind that moving my lesbian lover in would probably do wonders for all the little projects I’ve yet to tackle on my own. I mean what’s gayer than two lesbians spending their weekends doing home improvement projects!?

So while it was born out of necessity, the more we talked about it, the more excited we got about the idea of domestic bliss. We finally just agreed that she was already moved in and all that was missing was her. So when she gets back from the Marine Corps, we will be entering a whole new phase of lesbian relationships: The U-haul phase.

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Breaking Up is Hard To Do

Posted on 25. Nov, 2008 by Sasha.

It wasn’t a joke or some overly dramatic gesture. When I took off her dog tags, we were really over.

We sat there in my car at 3:00 a.m. Both of us stunned at the turn of events, as if it was happening to us. Like observers that had no control over the situation, we both just sat there and tried to accept what had just happened.

In a tone as cold as I’ve ever heard anyone speak, I heard my own voice tell her, “You can ask your ex to take you to the airport tomorrow and you can keep all your stuff at her house.” Knowing every time I said the simple word, her, it stung both of us as deeply as if someone had stuck us with a blade.

How could a simple three letter word hold so much power and so much hurt?

Finally Remi spoke. Full of emotion and regret I could see she meant every word. But it was too little too late. At one point she got out of my car and ripped off the necklace and the ring she wore every day, the ones from her ex and she threw them into the dark street. I hoped that they had landed in the gutter where they belonged, but I was still too angry to take her back. Again, it was too little too late.

We sat there for hours. The sun was about to come up and neither one of us had slept in about 24 hours. I was so tired the whole world started to spin and I thought I might actually black out right there, sitting in my car. Broken up with my girlfriend who I was still in love with and who was about to go off to war.

We had gone over and over everything several times. There was nothing more to say. Finally she picked up her dog tags that she had thrown down on the floor. She looked at them for a few minutes as if charging them with all the emotion she felt for me and all the commitment that we once had for one another and that she hoped we would have again.

She leaned in towards me and this time I didn’t push her away. I sat there like a statue, barely breathing. She looked at me with so much hurt and regret in her eyes as she put the chain back around my neck.

I felt an electrical charge through my body as her hands barely touched me. Gently she brushed my hair out of my face. I felt myself melt into her hands and when she kissed me I knew that we had to try again. I knew that she meant it when she said she didn’t mean to hurt me.

I refused to tell her exactly what I wanted from her in order to get back together. I’m not into ultimatums. I wanted to know what she was willing and wanting to do to make things OK again. She told me she would change the things that had been hurting me and that she would never do them again. I’m not perfect either. I’ve made mistakes too early in our relationship. But she forgave me and I’ve never made them again. So now it was my turn to forgive her.
When she put her lips on mine and her hand on my heart, I knew I didn’t have a choice. I loved her more than I had ever planned on loving anyone. Forgiving her was the easy part. The hard part was going to be saying goodbye in 24 hours.

So while we were broken up for several hours, I think it was for the best. We needed to get some things out in the open so they could be fixed. We only had one more night together and we were going to make the most of it.

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A Going Away Dinner in more ways then one …

Posted on 24. Nov, 2008 by Sasha.

A few hours later and we were in the backseat of her sister’s car, on our way to the airport. The last I heard, the party was still on at her ex-girlfriend’s house for that night. So I was planning a quiet night at home with my dogs.

Remi leaned over and told me that she wasn’t going to the party. She listed several reasons, one of them being that she didn’t want to go if I wasn’t invited. Maybe it wasn’t the main reason why she wasn’t going and maybe it was. I can’t really be sure. Either way as soon as she told me that the party was off, I went into my super-organized mode and my blackberry and I arranged a dinner party for ten of her closest friends within the next 15 minutes. Reservations and invitations all taken care of, I took her hand in mine and enjoyed the feeling of being able to be the one that planned her going away dinner. As it should have been from the beginning.

That morning found Remi and I sleep walking through Portland airport and trying not to hurl on the flight home. We finally landed in Long Beach, home of the surfer lesbian and neither one of us have ever been so happy to be back home. Ahhh ash and smog infested air …. smells like home.

The dinner was great. Afterwards we all headed to Executive Suite, the only place for lesbians in Long Beach on a Saturday night. My new best friend, Becky was getting pretty close with my “straight” best friend, Zoe. Remi and I were trying to have fun, but flashbacks to the night before with some other woman’s legs wrapped around her waist kept intruding into my thoughts and marring our night out on the town.

I tried to put it out of my head but I just couldn’t. When Zoe (who was the first woman I ever fell for) danced up next to me a few times, I took full advantage of dancing with her. Partly hoping to make Remi realize how it felt for me the night before. It must have worked at least a little since Remi quickly pulled us apart and gave Zoe back over to Becky. Who was more then happy to take her off my hands.

A few hours later and we were all ready to call it a night. But when I went to pull Zoe away from Becky, they had already made other plans. I usually like to take home the women I bring with me. But this was an interesting situation. Here we had my “straight” best friend and my new best friend who’s not so straight and they want to go home together. Who am I to get in the way?

So with my blessing they drove off together, both vowing to give me all the details in the morning.

That just left Remi and I for a nice quiet ride home. We were both sleep deprived so the plan was that I was going to drop her off at home and pick her up the next day so we could spend our last night together.

Everything was going fine on the way home. I was telling her what time I’d be by the next day when she asked me specifically what time, so that she could be back in time since she was having lunch with her ex.
…………………………………………….. that was the screeching halt of our relationship you just heard and the shattering noise that followed, that was my patience being thrown out of the window.

I drove the last five minutes back to her place in dead silence. She knew instantly she had made a mistake. However she didn’t realize just how big.

I parked the car and looked her dead in the eye. I was surprised at how little I felt. I felt anger, hurt and betrayal a few minutes ago. But now all I felt was numb.

I sat there for a minute taking emotional inventory before I spoke and then calmly I heard myself saying, “That’s it. I’m done.”

I took off her dog tags and handed them to her. It broke my heart to remove them. I hadn’t taken them off since she gave them to me and I had sworn to wear them every moment she was gone until she returned home safe and sound. Now I was taking them off and giving them back to her. If my words didn’t quite make sense to her, that gesture made it perfectly clear. I was done. We were over.

All of the little things that had been eating away at me, a little at a time all came crashing down on me in that instant. When I was trying to plan our last night together and she brought up the fact that she was having lunch with her ex right before I picked her up was just the last straw. I couldn’t believe what an utter fool I had been up to now.

I looked back on all the little things and wondered if I was just an idiot? The first night she ever asked me to be her girlfriend and I told her that it bothered me she still wore the ring her ex gave her. It bothered me so much that I cried forever and even broke up with her that same night. Yet the next day she showed up still wearing it. She wore it every single day. Earlier that day I had even asked her to leave the jewelry her ex had given her with her sister because I couldn’t have it in my house. That it bothered me that much. To which her response was a shrug and, “But it looks good.”

I had even given her another ring to wear so that she would quit wearing her ex’s ring. But instead of taking it off, she just wore my ring on another finger. Talk about rubbing salt in a wound.

There were countless times that her ex’s fragile feelings seemed to trump mine. But the whole party situation stuck in my craw. Yes, in the end she called it off and we had our own dinner party with her friends. But the fact that it was ok with her to hurt me instead of her ex was something I just couldn’t wrap my head around. That night it just seemed to make sense.

She must not love me like she claimed. She must still love her ex. It was clear that her ex was still in love with her, but I thought it was one sided. Had I been a fool this whole time?!

My mind whirled over the last few months and all the times I swallowed my jealousy and tried to be the bigger person. Each time I shrugged and tried to let it go. But for some reason it all seemed too big tonight to ignore anymore.

She was about to leave for the next year and I was expected to be faithful to her the entire time. But how could she ask that of me when she constantly put another woman first?

No way. I was done. We were done.

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Is it a duck? Is it a plane? No wait! It’s Sasha being a dork.

Posted on 21. Nov, 2008 by Sasha.

Day two of our road trip found us in beautiful, yet desolate Oregon. OK, maybe it’s not exactly desolate but it’s not exactly a bustling metropolis either. I knew I was out of my element when I saw something strange up ahead in the mountains and I asked my GF, “Oh my god, what is that?!”

To which she replied, “Fog.”

I continued to show my lack of wilderness experience a few hours later when she told me to keep an eye out for deer. Almost immediately I spotted something moving in her headlights, so I shouted, “Oh I think I see one!”

To which she replied, “That’s a rock.”

See what happens when you take a girl from LA and plop her down in the country? Nothing good. Unless of course you enjoy watching her make a fool of herself.

We were lucky enough to stay with her sister who happens to be as awesome as my GF. Going back home with Remi really explained a lot. If you want to better understand your partner, go home with them and see where they come from, what their family’s like and all of a sudden a lot of things start to make sense.

For instance, I always thought my GF was kind of wild and crazy. But after meeting her sister I see that she’s the reserved one in the family.

It was raining cats and dogs the first night we got into Oregon. Despite the freezing cold temperature, the room we were staying in was a bit stuffy so we slept with the window open. … Ahhh the sounds of wilderness wafted in all night long …. at the first quack I sat straight up in bed and tried to wake Remi up, “What the hell was that?!”

But she was out cold and was absolutely no help at all in helping me identify the mystery noise that I was convinced was coming from inside our room! I heard it a few more times and I figured it was some sort of giant cricket that had climbed in through the window. So I covered my head with the blanket, since we all know that a blanket over the head is the ultimate protection against a.) monsters b.) murderers and c.) wild life that you’re sharing a room with.

I tried to get some sleep but was woken up hours later by the same quacking. Only this time it was much louder and more persistent. I sat up in bed trying to determine what and where it was coming from. My city-slicker ears that are more used to falling asleep to gun shots than the sound of rainfall determined that it was a duck.

A duck!? Oh crap! Now I was worried about the poor little duck that was outside in the freezing cold rain! But I calmed myself down by telling myself that it was an Oregon duck and it was probably used to the cold and that it probably had it’s winter feathers on, or whatever the fuck ducks in Oregon wear when it’s raining.

Early in the morning that damn duck woke me up again quacking away. I finally had enough and woke Remi up, “What the hell? Is that a a duck?’

To which she replied, “It’s a frog. Go back to bed.”

Sheesh! A frog!? How the hell am I supposed to know that? I swear it was quacking and it sounded like a freaking duck.

So my first night in Oregon with my GF, her cool-ass sister and a duck. Well in my head it was a duck. Since I never saw the frog, I am not convinced.

Oh and about our little “issue” over her ex-girlfriend’s feelings trumping mine? Still unresolved at this point. I had decided to swallow my pride and let it go … sort of. I really honestly felt it was more important that Remi have a good time before she left then it was that my feelings were validated. But you’ll see how well that worked out in the coming blogs ….

How’s that for a cliff hanger? Let’s just say, you’ll want to check back to read about how Oregon really feels about lesbians, getting kicked out of a jumpy thing in a club for being too gay, yelling at my GF in front of her entire family for dirty dancing and finally …. breaking up …. or did we?

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Day 1 of our Road Trip …. One Night Stand Anyone?

Posted on 20. Nov, 2008 by Sasha.

There’s nothing like hitting the open road, spending every single second together, 24/7 over an entire week, going to another state to meet your girlfriend’s family to either make or break a relationship.

I’ll be honest, right before we took off on our trip, I thoroughly freaked out. When I say I freaked, I am not exaggerating. I almost broke up with her to get out of going! I felt like the walls were closing in on me and I couldn’t breathe. All my old demons and commitment phobic tendencies started to wield their ugly heads with a vengeance. I felt myself pushing her away and I panicked.

But true to form she stepped up and calmed me down. She’s really the only person who’s ever been able to do that. So with a renewed sense of well being, we took off on our little trip. Our last chance to be together before she got recalled into the military.

Our first night was spent in San Francisco. I think I was the only “out lesbian” from Southern Cali that’s never been to the Gay Mecca before. So I was all hyped up about finally seeing what all the fuss was about.

Ehhh … it was alright. San Fran didn’t really hold up to my expectations. It was just another big, overcrowded city to me. I’m born and raised in LA, so it wasn’t really that special to me. (Please don’t get me wrong, the people in San Fran were super cool and friendly. It’s just that the congestion sort of freaked me out.) Not to mention that our one night in San Francisco was marred by Remi and I fighting over her ex-girlfriend.

Oh yea! Side bar: Earlier that day Remi informed me that I was persona non grata at her going away party that was being hosted by her ex-girlfriend! Wait. What?

Hold on. Let me get this straight. I wasn’t allowed to come to MY girlfriend’s going away party that was being hosted by HER ex-girlfriend who was clearly STILL in love with her.

Fantastic.

I was told this little bit of awesome news early into our trip. I immediately went into “Be the bigger person” mode and told her that it was not about me, it was about her. I wanted her to have a good time and that it was important that she got to see all her friends before she left.

However, I made no bones about how I felt about her ex and how selfish I thought she was being. But I wasn’t going to sink that low. She could have her party. I’d even give her ride to and from the party. I just really wanted her to have a good time before she deployed.

But 8 hours later and it had had time to marinate in my lesbian brain. Since we only had one night in the city we went to what was supposed to be the best lesbian bar in town. Add alcohol to all the marinating I’d been doing and guess what? I totally lost it.

I practically yelled at her as I begged her to tell me why it was more important to protect her ex’s feelings than mine?

Why was it OK to make me feel like crap, but not OK to just tell her ex that it wasn’t OK with her that her own girlfriend who she’s supposed to love wasn’t welcomed to her going away party?!

The levels of how butt-hurt I was and how much I couldn’t wrap my head around the way she had dealt with the situation was just mind blowing. So I drank a bottle of wine and then we proceeded back to our hotel room. Where we had amazing, yet emotionless sex.

I thought that if we were intimate it would break through the icy wall I had unintentionally thrown up in defense of the recent events. But no such luck. We went to bed sweaty, tired and angry. The next day she said it felt like a one night stand with a stranger. That when she looked me in the eyes, she couldn’t see any emotion, as if I wasn’t even there.

So day one of our road trip ended with a one night stand with my own girlfriend and and an icy night in San Francisco. But don’t worry, things could only get better from there …. check back tomorrow to see how it turned out.

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I’m leaving! … But I’ll be back!

Posted on 10. Nov, 2008 by Sasha.

As you know, my girlfriend has been reactivated in the Marine Corps. So we’ve been trying to fit in as much fun, sex and laughter in this last month as humanly possible before she leaves. Well, the time is almost here so as our one last hurrah, we’re taking a road-trip up to gay mecca, also known as San Francisco and then further north to her hometown to meet her family.

Eeeeek!!! I’m actually taking a trip back home with my significant other to meet her family!!! Let’s just say that is a first for me. It’s also going to be the longest trip I’ve ever taken with someone I was dating. Suffice it to say, my anxiety level is about equal to my excitement level.

So you won’t be hearing from me for about a week. But when I get back expect to be fully briefed on my new adventures. I’m sure I can get into some kind of trouble on the road. You know me ….

Wish me luck!

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Note to self: Suggesting three-somes with your GF’s friend? Not too smart.

Posted on 27. Oct, 2008 by Sasha.

After my adventures in Palm Springs with a bunch of crazy, yet lovable butches and a few naked gay men thrown in for good measure I managed to make it back to LA in time to head to Ripples with my gf.

Before we got there, Remi informed me that there was a small chance we might run into her ex-girlfriend. A girl that I have not met yet and for some reason, I’m hesitant to meet her. Honestly, there’s absolutely no reason for me to feel this way. She’s one of Remi’s closest friends and everything I’ve ever heard about her leads me to believe that she’s a a wonderful person.

…. Huh. Go figure. I might not be looking forward to meeting my girlfriend’s amazing ex. Call me insecure. It wouldn’t be too far off the mark.

But by the time we got there, we got word that we would only be hanging out with her friend Becky and that her ex had already left the club. Whew, guess I didn’t have to down so much liquid courage in the parking lot. Oh well, at least I’d make a good impression on Becky. Nothing like meeting someone for the very first time and they can barely stand up straight.

We spotted Becky as soon as we entered the club. I had never met her before but as soon as I saw her I realized that Remi does not have any ugly friends. Here was yet another fine example of how effin’ hot women in the Marines are.

The night was a blur of alcohol, dancing, flirting and fun. Just to be sure I don’t miss any of the important parts I’ve put together some pseudo bullet points for you:

First impressions of Remi’s friend, Becky:

Cool ass chick, hot and down for a good time.

Becky quickly pointed out a little cutie in a hat that sparked her fancy. So being the excellent wing woman that I am, I made my way over to her and brought her back for Becky as a little token of our new found friendship. Sort of a “Welcome to my world, here’s a tight little femme for you. If you don’t like this one, just pick another and I’ll bring her back for you. All she’s missing is a bow.”

I’ll be honest, due to a serious lack of sleep within the past 24 hours mixed with a good amount of rum and parts of the night are nothing more than a blur. But I clearly remember watching my gf and Becky getting a little dirty on the dance floor. Not that I minded.

I was sidelined on the carpet, drink in hand and about 6 inches from the floor show Remi and Becky were putting on. Some random chick that was standing next to me was also enjoying the eye candy. She leaned in and yelled in my ear, “Are one of those your girlfriend?”

“Yes! That one!” I yelled back over the music and pointed to Remi who had slid all the way down Becky to the floor. Becky was doing her best impression of a stripper pole and Remi was, well … the stripper.

The chick I was talking to licked her lips and said, “Lucky you! Maybe you can take them BOTH home tonight!”

In my drunken state that sounded like a plan. So I gulped down the rest of my drink and made my way into that sandwich.

The funniest part was that we had Becky slammed up against the mirrors, then me, then Remi groping me from behind and that random chick was about 4 inches from our faces on the side, just totally enjoying herself.

At one point she leaned into the mix and yelled, “Somebody’s gettin’ lucky! You lucky bitch!”

After the club closed we stumbled over to Becky’s Jeep where I proceeded to make a total ass of myself.

I’m pretty sure that I suggested a threesome. Not just once but several times. I am willing to take the “Jerk face award” for this one.

Let’s just say that after a few more feeble attempts on my behalf to get our drunken asses on the sand that was just a few feet away, my gf had had enough. The problem with Remi is that when she’s pissed, she hides it. She actually hides it a little too well.

Excuse me for thinking that because Remi and Becky may have fooled around in the past (I say may have because they’re both a little foggy on the details) and the fact that they were practically giving each other lap dances in the club, lead me to the mistaken conclusion that it was a free for all in the way of flirting our asses off that night.

I was wrong.

Very very wrong. And the fact that Remi refused to speak to me on our rather fast drive home that night was only the beginning.

I would prefer not to further humiliate myself on my own blog by sharing all the details of how stupid I felt that night apologizing to Remi. But one part that did sting was when Remi finally did decide to speak to me again, this is what she had to say, “Excuse me for thinking that a month into our relationship may be too soon for you to suggest a threesome with my friend, the first fucking night you ever meet her.”

Ouch.

I was drunk but I take full responsibility. I was out of line and I was an ass. Yet again.

However this story has a happy ending. Remi not only forgave me but took partial responsibility and I got a new friend out the night. I’ve said many times now that Remi has the coolest friends. So far every friend of hers I’ve met have been some of the coolest women I’ve met in a while. They always say you’re known by the company you keep and my gf keeps some pretty hot company.

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Thank God I drive a Caddy

Posted on 19. Oct, 2008 by Sasha.

I’d just like to say, for the record that my girlfriend is no longer wondering why we don’t have sex more often. In fact, she had to stay home tonight to catch up on her sleep. Not that I blame her, I didn’t let her put her clothes back on till that weird guy with a flashlight on his head walked by my car at 6:00 a.m. this morning.

But who needs sleep when you can have sex till the wee hours of the morning?

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Had to Change my MySpace Status

Posted on 18. Sep, 2008 by Sasha.

OK, so after all the deliberating and drama inherently involved in all lesbian relationships, I took the plunge. It’s official. Yep, the Marine and I are happily coupled up. In spite of the fact that she’s getting deployed in exactly two months, I decided it was better to live fully in the present moment and stop worrying so damn much about tomorrow and tomorrows down the road.

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.)

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