Card Carrying Lesbian … What’s in your wallet?

Lana a.k.a Lesbian Bait

Posted on 02. Mar, 2010 by Sasha.

The other night we went out to Girl Bar, with Lana in tow. I had assured Lana several times, that she would not be mauled, attacked or hit on. I mean after all, it’s a lesbian bar and while it is a bar, we are still women. Which in my experience has meant that in general, women are usually pretty shy and don’t hit on each other without some serious body language giving the green light. And not even then most of the time!

All too often lesbian clubs remind me of those horrible 6th grade dances when all the boys would stand on one side of the gym and all the girls would line up on the opposite wall, waiting, hoping and wishing that that cute little boy that was 6 inches shorter then them would have the nerve to come over and ask them to dance.

So after multiple assurances on my part, that Lana would not be molested on her first night at a dyke bar, the ladies of West Hollywood quickly took up the challenge to make a liar out of me.

We hadn’t been there ten minutes before a girl walks up to our group, circles around, gives Lana an up and down appraisal, literally shakes her head yes, as if to say, “Yep, that’ll do!” and walked over to our group of five. I mean really, how often does a woman have the guts to approach an entire group of females just to get at one in the center?

She leaned in and yelled over the blaring music, “My friend is having a party right down the street and told me to come and find some hot women to bring over.”

We smiled, said thank you and maybe. Laughing hysterically that Lana had just been cruised mere moments after sitting down.

This type of thing happened through out the night. It was actually pretty funny watching the women circle around Lana like sharks circle fresh chum.

But nothing would make my night like what ended up happening out on the dance floor. Apparently, Lana is irresistible to older, shorter lesbians. Well, one in particular. Before we knew it, she was being man-handled by a very pushy woman.

Seeing my friend in distress I did what any good friend does, I threw my girlfriend in between them, confident that the interloper would take a hint. [...]

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Who Owns the Abbey?

Posted on 11. May, 2009 by Sasha.

I got a comment from a reader, LB_Boi that read,

Hey Sasha,
Hope you’re ok. I’m sick of going to the Abbey because of guys like that. They are just plain rude. Someone once told me that the reason they are there is because they are investors, which makes their behavior even more disgusting.

The same thing happens over at Club HERE too and it’s such a pain to deal with. It’s too bad the behavior of some ruins our nights out.

Hopefully you won’t have that issue at Pride this weekend, LOL

OK, this totally makes sense because the ass wipe that groped me was there with a bunch of other pricks that were all sitting in a VIP booth like little kings. And to top it off this all happened only feet away from a huge bouncer that saw the whole thing and just turned a blind eye to it.

If the Abbey really is owned by guys like this, I want to know because I don’t feel like putting any money in their pockets after being treated like that. Especially since I’ve received a few private emails from other women who have had similar experiences there.

Does anyone know anything about the owners or investors of the Abbey? Please post in the comments section if you do. I’m really curious now.

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The Abbey: Part deux

Posted on 11. May, 2009 by Sasha.

Sorry to leave you in suspense for so long, lol … but here’s the rest of the Abbey debacle.

Remi continued to ream me in front of her best friend, which was uncomfortable for both of us. I swear if Amazon’s head could have turned any further away from the table, the Exorcist would have been jealous. You know, when your friends are being jack asses and acting out in public in ways that they should only ever act behind closed doors, and the only way you can give them the illusion of privacy is to try not to look. Yea, it was that bad.

So instead of just telling her what happened, I said, “Nothing.”

“Don’t fucking lie to me, I can clearly see a fingernail scratch on your face! WTF happened?!!!!” was of course, her response to my outright lie.

So this whole mature scene played out for a few more minutes of her yelling at me, demanding to know the whole story. While I felt more and more attacked and embarrassed so of course, I stuck with my story.

I swear, my tombstone will read: THAT’S MY STORY AND I’M STICKING TO IT.

My stubbornness in the face of being caught in so blatant a lie managed to piss my gf off to no end. We drove home in almost complete silence. The icy atmosphere only being broken up by her demanding to know what happened. But my migraine had kicked into full gear and there was no way in hell I was getting pulled into an all nighter. So I stood my ground.

It wasn’t until the next morning, about 5 minutes before she had to leave for work that I broke down and told her what happened.

But was she happy or satisfied? Yea right.

Now she just had even more to be aggravated with me over.

For one thing, I lied to her. For another, she was pissed I didn’t tell her when she would have had a chance to do something. Lastly, I lied to her. Did I say that already? Oh yea I did, but I thought it bared repeating since this was what had her stuck on repeat for the rest of the day.

I however didn’t see it as a “lie” per say, but more as a timing issue.

To me, a lie is when you have no intention of telling her the truth. But that’s not what happened. I had totally planned on telling her everything, I was just waiting for the right time. I think it was more like strategically timed truth telling. The “lie” she was so upset over was more like a diversion till the truth made an appearance.

Anyways, the long and the short of it was we fought all day long via text messages and then when she got home we had to go sit in the car and continue our argument because any yelling upsets my dogs too much.

We never really came to a conclusion. More of a standstill.

I think she deserved to be temporarily mislead for several reasons and she thinks I have a habit of “lying” to her when bad things happen and only telling her the whole story days later.

So we agreed to disagree and just move on. There comes a time when you just have to let things go and we’re actually getting pretty good at it.

In the long run I guess I’ll tell her if something like that happens again just to save myself the aggravation. But after reading some of the comments I doubt it will, since she’s not likely to let me out of her sight for a while now.

PS: LB PRIDE is coming up this weekend …. you all better be there!

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Drawing Blood at the Abbey

Posted on 05. May, 2009 by Sasha.

Saturday night, Remi and I met up with our good friends, Amazon and Alexa at the Abbey. I haven’t seen the Abbey that packed in … well … ever. It was a madhouse and the crowd was a good trail mix of gay boys, femmes, butches, trannies, lesbians and straight tourists.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not straight-a-phobic. Some of my best friends are straight men. But call me crazy, when I go out to a gay bar in gay WeHo with my gay lover Cindy and our lesbian friends, I don’t appreciate being groped, stalked and grabbed by straight or bi-curios men. Which seemed to be the theme of the evening.

I know I’ve been down this repetitive road before. Yes, maybe I don’t have short hair spiked up into a faux hawk, I wasn’t wearing a cool fedora and a man’s blazer and unfortunately I wasn’t wearing my DYKE tattoo on my forehead. But I would think that the setting, combined with WHO I was there with, holding hands with, and kissing would be some sort of sign that I don’t drive stick.

Yet a random medley of ass hole men still thought I was fair game.

At one point in the evening, Remi and I had gotten into a little tiff and instead of going with her and her bff across the street to grab some munchies, I stayed put by my lonesome to stand in line for the ladies room. On my way to the back of the club I was grabbed again by one of my evening’s stalkers. He was so drunk or just such a big ass that he actually grabbed me and tried to kiss me! When I pushed him off of me and into an innocent group of twinks, he lunged back at me and grabbed my face. By this point I was till off balance from slipping on spilled drinks in four inch heels and trying not to fall down the few stairs that I was teetering on. It was so crowded the only thing I could think of was to go for the groin. So although that is my least favorite area of the male anatomy, I gave it a good slap with the palm of my hand and watched as the pain and shock rippled through him. He immediately let me go and I took off for the bathroom where I found one of Alexa standing in line.

But do I tell her what just happened? No. Of course not. Why? Because my friends are like me, and if someone bothers one of my friends, I want to hunt them down. So I just let it go.

But then I saw the idiot with a group of his friends coming up on the other side of the line so I made some lame excuse to my friend and got out of there. I just didn’t want to deal with it anymore. I was getting a migraine, I was sort of mad at Remi and knew she was mad at me. I was quickly getting over the whole evening and just wanted to go home.

I made it across the street to where Remi and her friend were having a burger. I had calmed down enough to tell her what had just happened but wasn’t sure if I should just wait till we were in the car. Because first of all, I know for a fact that she and Amazon would want me to go back and point him out. I didn’t want a confrontation that night. Not that our group of female Marines couldn’t totally fuck up his group of bougie posers. That wasn’t the point. I just wanted to go home.

But by the time I sat down, Remi was already pissed at me for having run off by myself and then she looks at me in the bright lights of the burger joint and says, “What the FUCK is on your face?”

“What?!” I really had no idea what was on my face.

“That!” she said as she pointed above my lip. I searched Amazon’s face for some answers or a hint and it was obvious that she too saw whatever had Remi seeing red.

“What?!” I asked again.

“That! That’s blood! There’s a scratch on your face and it’s bleeding. WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED?!”

Great. So much for waiting for the right moment to tell her ….

——-to be continued—–

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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. [...]

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The Abbey

Posted on 18. Aug, 2008 by Sasha.

Something funny happened when she told me, “I didn’t expect to fall for you so fast.” I could barely hear her over the music and the crowd of pretty gay boys packed into the Abbey as if it were the only place in West Hollywood that night. When she said that, I felt like the whole room stopped just for a split second.

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.

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